#Turkish poet

[lesewut]

Freedom Has Hands

Nâzım Hikmet is considered the founder of modern Turkish poetry and one of the most important poets of Turkish literature. Born January 15, 1902 in Thessaloniki, died 61 years ago on June 3, 1963 in Moscow.was a Turkish poet and playwright. He is considered the founder of modern Turkish poetry and one of the most important poets of Turkish literature. Hikmet, Nazim: Bütün Şiirler (All Poems) 1924 - 1962, edited by Nahide Dikel and Gülçin Erol.

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Freedom Has Hands Proudly they were running, our horses Toward the calm sea The way the pigeons were flying Perhaps it’s the happiness of freedom! Kissing was forbidden, did you know, To think To fight for labor work force, was forbidden! They separated the product from its tree Selling it as much as it sells at the bazaars The branches of effort broken Light is blinding, they say, Freedom a ticking bomb. The ones who break our light And put a arson on freedom are themselves! When we reach for it they want it to explode, And burn. There are minefields Bread and water sit in the darkness. Freedom has hands, Eyes, feet, To wipe away its sweat To see tomorrow, Headed toward equality. I’m a cage, you’re ivy; Twine as much as you can twine This is a love for freedom, It only takes one to see it once It’s a piece of clothing that will last It’s a dream that is the truth Brave drivers of the historic movement Workers, the bees of the world’s beehive Flying around a piece of dark bread Brothers who bring freedom to our world. With the thoughs of that bread they wake up, With the thoughts of that bread the nights meet mornings; With that sun we can reach freedom. This hope is the door to being free; A tiny crack into happy days. This happiness is the light of better days; It reflects upon us quietly, frightened. Come, people of my nation, To the doors of freedom are like a branch; Behind it, the sky is blue. [Translation from his poem 'Elleri var özgürlüğün'] More

[pinardenizs]

Thank God we're together, Esra.

[strokeofserenity]

Having two ears and one tongue, we should listen twice as much as we speak.

[faaun]

the way that diff languages sound r so fascinating they're all different and all so vivid

[ashotasfireandasdeepastheocean1]

...❤️

.

The most beautiful sea

hasn't been crossed yet.

The most beautiful child

hasn't grown up yet.

Our most beautiful days

we haven't seen yet.

And the most beautiful words I wanted to tell you

I haven't said yet...

Nâzım Hikmet

[kaybolanbirruhgibi]

ay ve sen ay ve biz ay ve ben

ay ve anılar

[uwmspeccoll]

Marbled Monday

Marbling reminiscent of river stones? Sure, why not?! This lovely blue, grey, and white marbling adorns the cover of Brief Lives, a book of poems by American poet and professor William Dickey (1928-1994) published in 1985. The poem shown here is the first poem in the book.

William Dickey was professor of English and creative writing at San Francisco State University and wrote 15 books over the span of his career. His partner Leonard Sanazaro was also a poet and teacher at City College of San Francisco, as well as a scholar on the work and life of Sylvia Plath. Dickey passed away in 1994 from HIV-related complications.

The marbling, book design, and printing were all done by letterpress printer and paper marbler Robin Heyeck at the Heyeck Press in Woodside, California. It is a stone or Turkish pattern printed on light grey laid stock with darker grey and light blue forming the pattern. To create this pattern, colors are simply dropped into the bath on top of one another—the new drops push the ones already in the bath away, creating the veining that mimics marble.

View more Marbled Monday posts.

-- Alice, Special Collections Department Manager

[gnawgag]

pathetic polite - from grit by silas denver melvin ( @sweatermuppet) // photo by michal macku // photo by rusty1

[postcardswithoutanaddress]

" he who longs to meet you through his days and looks at the sky when you are away. whose world lights up with your smile and whose ruined house turns into a warm home with your voice and approaching footsteps. who falls deeper every time he looks into your eyes. who dishevells himself to fulfill your every whim. "

~ postcardswithoutanaddress

[dramalama69]

"Kapıyı kapatmak zorunda kalmış ama pencere kenarında ömür harcamış."

"She had to close the door, so she spent her life by the window."

[prabhghuman]

"Geceydi her yer, sen yildizdin." 💫

( It’s was night Everywhere, you were the STAR.)

{Picture by Me..}

Turkish Poem

"Aşk"

Aşk yürüyüşü yürüdüğüm yerde,

Ben değilim artık, başka birisi var.

Gözlerim gördüğüm yerde, ben değilim,

Bir başka göz var karşımda, bir başka var.

Dilim konuştuğum yerde, ben değilim,

Bir başka dil var dudaklarımda, bir başka var.

Kulaklarım dinlediğim yerde, ben değilim,

Bir başka kulak var yanımda, bir başka var.

Her şey başka olmuş, her şey değişmiş,

Yalnız senin hatırın, yalnız senin için aynı:

Senin için bir yıldız düşer her gece,

Senin için bir güneş doğar her sabah.

Aşk yürüyüşü yürüdüğüm yerde,

Ben değilim artık, başka birisi var.

- by Orhan Veli Kanık

Translation:-

Love walks where I walk, I am no longer myself, there is someone else.Where my eyes see, I am not there, There is another eye in front of me, another one.

Where my tongue speaks, I am not there, Another language is on my lips, another one. Where my ears listen, I am not there, Another ear is beside me, another one.

Everything has changed, everything has transformed,

Only your memory, only for you it remains the same:

For you, a star falls every night,

For you, a sun rises every morning.

Love walks where I walk,

I am no longer myself, there is someone else.

[bloodintoink-blog]

~Yalı Çapkını

[busraspostsblog]

Bir damla inciydi kirpiklerinde,

Aşkın ıstırapla dolu rüyası

Bir başka güzellik var kederinde

Bir başka âlem ki ruhunun yası,

Sessiz incileşir kirpiklerinde.

Ahmed Hamdi Tanpınar - Leylâ

[waltzing-with-butterflies]

teeny tiny haiku collection:

ne söylenmeli

ilk kovana koşmaktan

yorgun çocuğa

(what should be said to/ the child, ever so tired from/ running towards first hive)

_______________________

serin yağmurun

sesine muhtaç kalmış

kiraz ağacı

(how deeply the cherry tree/ yearns and longs for the sound/ of the cool spring rain)

_______________________

tuza yansımış

erimiş altın damla,

güneş yanığı

(molten golden drop/ takes the form of a sunburn/ reflected on salt)

-stella

[thedoktoyevskigirl]

wrote this poem 2 years ago...

duygularımın savaşındayım,

mutlu muyum, üzgün mü?

yaşadıklarımın etkisindeyim,

hayal mi? gerçek mi?

hiçbir yere ait hissedemiyorum,

ruhum günden-güne yok oluyor.

bulutlar,kitaplar,çiçekler…

tek sevdiklerim iken,

insanlar,şehirler,ülkeler…

en uzak olduklarımdır.

bir kuş olsam, yükselsem bulutlara,

bir balık olup da, dalsam derin okyanuslara,

bir yaprak olup, savrulsam rüzgarlara,

bulur muyum gerçek yuvamı?

severler mi beni?

renklerimi soldurmadan, gülüşümü benden çalmadan,

ait olur muyum tek gerçek mutluluğa?

bilseydim bu kadar ağır olacağını yalnızlığın

ister miydim insan olup, bu gamsız dünyaya hapis olmaya?

-thedoktoyevskigirl (fidan)

[golge200505]

Must Be True

I just wanted my pages to make sense to someone.

So I’ve kept explaining myself in the hopes of finding understanding in a pair of eyes.

Only to realize that validation of a stranger mouth was not going to make me feel proud over my life.

But my mind still gives power to people to control my heart.

The words I hear feel like an arrow shot to my most vulnerable parts.

Somedays I am okay, somedays everything feels so suffocating that I feel like I won’t make it to the next page.

The slightest confidence I gain disappears with a single insult.

I tell them that I don’t care, but my eyes give me away.

A little salt in words, a little increase in volume; yeah they are ready to cry.

And I wonder sometimes, how my life would look like if I didn’t let the monsters hurt me the way they do right now.

Do I really have a say in it, actually?

It feels like my faith, giving into any kind of an assumption that is made about me.

Like an empty canvas, accepting any color people want to put on, interpreting your worth according to the people’s view of you.

‘Cause it must be true.

It’s not like they would ruin someone’s life, just to get what they think about them out of their system, right?

So whatever they say, must be true.