Advaitam Speaks Literary | Contemporary Turkish Poetry and Visual Arts | Vol. 4 - Issue 2

CONTEMPORARY TURKISH POETRY & VISUAL ARTS

ADVAITAM SPEAKS L I T E R A R Y Vol. 4 - Issue 2 AN INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF POETRY, POETICS & VISUAL ARTS

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF : DEBASISH PARASHAR, UNIVERSITY OF DELHI GUEST EDITOR : RUHSAN ISKIFOÄžLU MANAGING EDITOR : ANTARIPA DEV PARASHAR

Founder, Publisher & Editor-in-Chief : Debasish Parashar managing editor : antaripa dev parashar

New Delhi-World advaitamspeaks@gmail.com

Advaitam Speaks Literary

Founder, Publisher & Editor-in-Chief : Debasish Parashar Managing Editor : Antaripa Dev Parashar.

E-mail:

debasishparashar87@gmail.com advaitamspeaks@gmail.com

Published by Debasish Parashar New Delhi, India.

https://advaitamspeaksliterary.wordpress.com/ Copyright Š2020 The Authors

The contributors named in this book have asserted their moral rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act to be identified as the editors and authors of this work.

All rights reserved.

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TEAM ADVAITAM SPEAKS LITERARY

Debasish Parashar Founder,Publisher & Editor-in-Chief, Advaitam Speaks Literary.

Antaripa Dev Parashar Managing Editor, Advaitam Speaks Literary.

DEBASISH PARASHAR - UNIVERSITY OF DELHI (INDIA) EDITOR-IN-CHIEF, ADVAITAM SPEAKS LITERARY JOURNAL.

Debasish

Parashar

is

a

Multilingual

Poet,

Creative

Entrepreneur,

Singer/Musician, Lyricist based in New Delhi, India. He is an Assistant Professor of English literature at the University of Delhi. Parashar is the Founder & Editorin-Chief of Advaitam Speaks Literary journal and is associated with the World Poetry Movement. With his debut song ‘Pamaru Mana’ (2018), Debasish became one of the first Indian singer/composers who dared to experiment with the idea of fusing 500-years-old Borgeets of Assam with Western Orchestral music (with layered violins, pianos, snares & vocals), challenging the religious and ritualistic conventions of the Satras. His debut Music Video ‘Shillong’ from his debut EP ‘Project Advaitam’ released in the month of September 2018. He has sung for Raag, In Search of God, MUSOC XXV and elsewhere.

His

write-up

on

Majuli

has

been

listed

amongst

top

100

online

#worldheritagesites stories globally in May 2016 by Agilience Authority Index.

His

literary

works

have

appeared

in

Kweli

(New

York),

Sentinel

Literary

Quarterly (London), Voices de la Luna (USA), Contemporary Literary Review India, Enclave/Entropy (USA), La Experiencia De La Libertad (Mexico/Spanish), Expound (Africa), Asian Signature, Kitob Dunyosi (Uzbek), SETU, Five2One (USA),

Moonchild

(USA)

and

elsewhere.

Debasish's

works

are

featured

in

international anthologies such as World Poetry Almanac 2017-18, Epiphanies and Late Realizations of Love (USA), 'Where Are You From ?' (New York), 'Apple Fruits of An Old Oak' (U.S.A),‘22 Wagons’ (Serbian) and ‘Flowers of the Present’(the Netherlands) among others.

Debasish

has

read

or

received

invitations

to

read

in

various

national

and

international literary events/festivals including the 30th Medellin International Poetry Festival (the youngest Indian poet till date and the first from Northeast India), 4th Indija Pro Poet 2020 (Serbia), Dylan Day Project 2020 by London Welsh Centre, Gronthee, WPD-2020 Reading of Festival Internazionale di Poesia Civile e Contemporanea del Mediterraneo (Italy), 9th World haiku Seminar by World

Haiku

Association

(Japan),

Project

'Building

Smiles'

by

Fisdace

Foundation & CACB (Equador), 12 th International Writers Meeting organized by

UNESCO

International

affiliated Writers’

Writers

and

Festival-India

Artists by

Union

India

of

Tarija

(Bolivia),

Inter-Continental

12

Cultural

Association (India) and The 3 rd Edition of Festival Itinerante in Colombia among others.

Debasish Parashar was honored with the ‘Festival Charter for Interpretation’ award at the Indija Pro Poet-2020 International Literary Festival. He has received an Honourary Diploma (Diploma de Honor) signed by the Consul of Isla Negra, Chile by Movimiento Poetas Del Mundo (Movement of Poets of the World). Red Door

Café

and

Art

Gallery,

Denmark,

has

permanently

curated

his

poem

‘Fundamental Right to Dream’ in his own voice as part of ‘Poetic Phonotheque’, a

classic

collection

of

contemporary

world

poetry.

The

Poetic

Media

Lab,

Stanford University has curated the cinematic video of his poem ‘Fundamental Right to Dream’, a few other poems and a letter for the ‘Life in Quarantine’ project.

The Indonesian translations of some of his poems were included in the English Poetry Appreciation syllabus of Makassar Islamic University, Indonesia for the year 2017-18. Parashar has been/is getting translated into more than 30 world languages including Italian, Russian, Dutch, Spanish, Czech, French, Romanian, Serbian, Albanian, Persian, Afrikaans, Indonesian and Arabic. His poetry has been

featured

in

more

than

15

different

books/anthologies

from

renowned

publishing houses in India, the USA, Latin America, Russia, the Netherlands, Serbia and Mongolia. Overall, his poetry has appeared in more than 30 countries of the world.

RUHSAN ISKIFOĞLU - POET, TRANSLATOR AND ACADEMIC (CYPRUS) GUEST EDITOR, SPECIAL EDITION OF CONTEMPORARY TURKISH POETRY AND VISUAL ARTS

Ruhsan Iskifoğlu was born in Hatay in 1984. She completed her middle and high school

education

at

Eastern

Mediterranean

College

in

2001.

In

2005,

she

graduated from the Department of Turkish Language and Literature at the Eastern Mediterranean University Faculty of Arts and Sciences. In 2007, She completed her master’s degree at Eastern Mediterranean University Faculty of Education.

She gave Ottoman Turkish lessons between the years 2013-2015. In the spring of 2016,

she

worked

as

a

part-time

instructor

at

the

Eastern

Mediterranean

University.

Between 2013 and 2016 She did poetry and panel translations for International Cyprus İskele festival.In 2018, she participated in Eskişehir Poetry Festival. Her poems have been published

in magazines such as Varlık, Sincan İstasyonu, Şiiri

Özlüyorum, Yasakmeyve, Turnalar, Şiirden, Arka Bahçe, Kurşun Kalem, İnsan Zaman Mekan , Caz Kedisi, and Advaitam Speaks Literary. Her translations have appeared in magazines such

as , Şiiri Özlüyorum, Sincan İstasyonu , Şiirden,

Kurşun Kalem ,Turnalar . She is responsible for translation and foreign relations of the Literary Magazine Uçsuz. She continues to pursue her academic studies and offers modern literature courses.

She is the author of Gözlemci Konuk Yazılı Kağıt Yayınları (2013), Şeffaf Söküm (2020).

Yasakmeyve Yayınları (2016) and poetica şiiri özlüyorum kitaplığı

content

POETRY GÖKÇENUR Ç.

ELIF SOFYA

RAHMİ EMEÇ

BETÜL DÜNDER

SELAHATTIN YOLGIDEN

ERKAN KARAKIRAZ

NURDURAN DUMAN

ÇAĞLA MEKNUZE

BETÜL TARIMAN

METIN CENGIZ

C. HAKKI ZARIÇ

EFE DUYAN

METIN TURAN

NIHAT ÖZDAL

HAKAN CEM

ERKUT TOKMAN

NILAY ÖZER

ANIL CIHAN

ASUMAN SUSAM

BIONOTES OF THE TRANSLATORS

VISUAL ARTS AHMET YESIL

GÖKÇENUR Ç.

Gökçenur Ç. is a poet, translator, editor and poetry activist based in Istanbul. As poet He has seven poetry books in Turkish, with his first book he’s got Arkadaş Z. Özger

Best

Kudret books been

Debut

Aksal are

Poetry

Literature

published

translated

into

in 30

Book Prize

Prize

and

Serbian,

and

Metin

with

Altıok

Romanian,

languages.

In

his

the

latest

Poetry

Bulgarian, Lettres

book

he’s

Prize.

Italian

Capitales

His and

got

Sabahattin

selected his

Project

poetry

poems of

have

European

Capital of Culture Marseille 2012, his book in handwriting in French and Turkish has been prepared and published as a single exhibition copy.

As

editor

He

is

the

editor

of

the

Turkish

magazine

Çevrimdışı

İstanbul

(İstanbul

Offline). He is the co-editor of the Turkish domain in Poetry International and is on the editorial board of Macedonian-based international literary magazine Blesok. He also edited many of poetry and poetry in translation books.

As

translatorHe

has

translated

and

published

selected

poetry

books

of

Wallace

Stevens, Paul Auster, Ursula Le Guin, Igor Isakovski, Katerina Illiopoulou, Claudiu Komartin, Milan Dobricic, Anat Zacharia, Ivan Hristov,

and many other poets into

Turkish. He is a member of Cunda International Workshop for Translators of Turkish Literature (CIWTTL). In CIWTTL he took part in translations of great Turkish poets Enis Batur, Behçet Necatigil, Haydar Ergülen etc.. into English.

As poetry activist He has participated and/or organized poetry translation workshops and festivals in many countries. He is the curator and co-director of Word Express; co-director

of

Gaziantep,

and

International

international Turkish

Poetry

poetry

American

Festival,

International Poetry Movement.

festivals Poetry

Crete

Offline Days;

Istanbul, and

International

board

Poetry

Mosaic

of

member Festival

Metaphors of

and

Nilüfer Kritya

Söyle Sevdin mi Kayısı Ağaçlarını?

Tell Me If You Liked the Apricot Trees

Sarıl bana,

Hold me

anlat

and whisper,

omuzlarına benziyor mu

does the world

dünya?

resemble your shoulders.

İstemem

I don’t want to

çıkmak dışarıya,

go out

anlattıkların

what you speak of

yeter bana.

is enough for me

Söyle sevdin mi

Tell me

kayısı ağaçlarını,

if you liked

sevdin mi

the apricot trees

saçlarını

or the rains

ıslatan

soaking

yağmuru?

your hair

Sen sevdim de

If you only say I liked it

ben sana yazarım

I’d write a rain for you,

uzun, sicim gibi,

A long, thread like rain

atlara tanrıları

that compels the horses

unutturan

to forget their gods

bir yağmur.

Hold me Sarıl bana,

and whisper,

anlat

does the world

omuzlarına benziyor mu

resemble your shoulders.

dünya?

(Translated by Gökçenur ç)

Seherin Sarı Kısrakları

Atlar geçiyor apartmanın önünden.

Hiç dinmeyecek mi bu yağmur? diyorsun, uykulu.

Yağmur çoktan dindi sevgilim gün ağardı,

The Yellow Mares of Morning

şiir bitti.

Horses passing

Ama bak,

in front of the apartment block.

sözcükler çırpınıyor hâlâ anlatabilmek için seni.

Sleepily you ask, will this rain never stop?

The rain has already ceased my love, the day has dawned, the poem is done.

But look, the words keep fluttering in order to speak of you.

(Translated by Gökçenur ç)

RAHMİ EMEÇ

RAHMİ

EMEÇ

was

born

in

1959

in

Eskisehir.

He

worked

as

a

journalist

in

the

Eskisehir offices of the Hurriyet and Milliyet News Agencies, Evrensel (Universal) and Emek (Labour) newspapers and also local newspapers in Eskisehir. His poems and

writings

took

(Edebiyat-81),

part

in

Tomorrow

many

cultural

(Yarın),

Sweep

and

art

magazines

(Dönemeç),

such

Universal

as;

Literature-81

Culture

(Evrensel

Kültür), Coast (Kıyı), Vessel (Damar), Country of Poetry (Şiir Ülkesi) Good Writings (Güzel Yazılar), Sincan Station ( Sincan İstasyonu), Akatalpa, Yazılıkaya, Forbidden Fruit (Yasak Meyve). He is publishing a magazine called ‘Yazılıkaya Şiir Yaprağı’ with Haydar Ergülen and Erol Büyükmeriç. He is married and has a son and daughter named Gökçe and Umut

AWARDS: Youth Poetry Awards, laudable (Yeni Türkü Publications, 1984), PetrolWark Union Poetry Secondary Awards 1991, Petrol- Work Union jury’s special award 1992,

Ali

Rıza

Ertan

Poetry

Achievement

Award

1994,

Sabri

Altinel

Poetry

Secondary Awards 1994.

BOOKS:

Sevgiyi

Dağlara

Salacağım

1991,

Ertelenmiş

Düşler

Kitabı

2005,

Kırık

Zihinler Sahafı 2011, Bakışsız Gece (2013), Masallar Mektuplar ve Kuşlar (2014), Uzak İnsanın İçindedir (2016), Hasarlı Tarih Notları (2016)

Randevu

bana cumartesi gel; postadan çıkan, sait faik pullu mektuplar gibi, okşanmaya hazır.

diğer günlerin de, hatırını sorma inceliği olsun gülüşümüzde. sade, içten ve kendine büyüyen, akşam üstleri kadar durgun.

anılara çekilmiş de, keyfini çıkaran bir tebessüm olsun yüzünde; cumartesi gel bana…

Rendezvous

come to me on saturday ; out of the post, like a sait faik stamp letters, ready to be carresed

other days too, ask about gracefulness our smile. pure, heartfelt and self growing, calm as much as evening.

drawn to memories, have a smile on your face; come to me on Saturday…

(Translated by Ruhsan İskifoğlu)

VİCTOR JARA

VİCTOR JARA

victor jara’yı düşündüm bugün;

I thought Victor Jara today;

gitarın sesi,

the sound of the guitar,

doldurdu dünyamı.

filled my world.

nereden aklına gelir,

where

insanın durup dururken,

all of a sudden,

başka hayatların tanıdık yüzü?

familier face of others

-selam, uzak yerlerin yakın sesi

-hi, the close voice of distance places

yarım kalan şarkısı hepimizin,

the unfinished song of all us,

onurlu,

honorable,

güzel kardeşim benim.

my kind brother.

it does comes to

mind

lifes?

(Translated by Ruhsan İskifoğlu)

SELAHATTIN YOLGIDEN

Selahattin English,

Yolgiden

German,

Hungarian

and

was

Italian,

Bulgarian.

born

in

Dutch, He

is

İstanbul.

Croatian, a

His

poems

Serbian,

member

of

the

have

been

Swedish, editorial

translated

Malayalam,

board

to

into

Greek,

Çevrimdışı

İstanbul Literature Magazine and Offline İstanbul International Poetry Festival.

His books are: Su Kıyısında Kimse Yoktu, 2004, Adam Yayınları (Winner of the Cemal Süreya Poetry Award in 2004) Gün Geceye Küstüğünde, 2007, İkibinaltı Yayınları (Winner of the M. Sunullah Arısoy Poetry Award in 2007) Unuttuğum Limanlar – 2009 Sel Yayıncılık Lacivert Bir Oyundu İkimiz Arasında, 2011, Kırmızı Kedi Yayınları (Winner of the Arif Damar Poetry Award in 2011) Eve Geç Kaldım Yalnızlık Bekler – 2013 – Kırmızı Kedi Yayınları (Winner of the Behçet Aysan Poetry Award in 2014) Gittiğim En Uzak Yer Sizdiniz – 2015 – Kırmızı Kedi Yayınları Herkes Ayrıldı Kendinden – 2017 – Kırmızı Kedi Yayınları

richard wagner

parsifal: prelude to act 1

rüzgârın tırnakları uzayan bir ölü içimde, tıkırdayan a'sı bozuk bir daktilo

richard wagner vazgeçtim tanrıların sözlerinden kendi kitabını yazacak bir peygamber

parsifal: prelude to act 1

yarattım kimsesiz bir gölgeden

nails of the wind ekim huzursuzların ayıdır yırtılmış biletler, sararmış havlular bel kokan bekar evleri, kendini

a dead body growing longer inside me, a clattery type writer with a broken a

bir öğrenci yurdunun giriş kapısına asan zürafa, memur cesetleri ve istanbul biri plajda dans ediyor temmuz'dan beri

beni unuttuğun klavyendeki s harfinin yepyeni olmasından belli.

i gave up the god’s words up i gave life to unclaimed shadows and created a prophet who’ll write his own book

october is the month of the anxious ones torn tickets, pale towels, semen smelling bachelor pads, a giraffe who hanged himself to the dormitory door, dead public officers and istanbul someone is still dancing on a beach since july

from the spickandspan s we can see you already forgot me.

( from “herkes ayrıldı kendinden” . Translated by Gökçebur Ç. )

cezanne

sallanan sandalyede yaşlı bir adamdan kalan kırık gözlük ve kar kuşları bahçede eski yılın son günleri boğuyor geyikleri

çocukluğundan kalan yalanlar kar tanecikleri gibi dönüp duruyor

cezanne

avluda titreyen köpeğin etrafında

broken glasses on a rocking chair ipe asılı buldular göl kıyısında bir ağaçta fa teli kopuk bir kontrbası

forgotten by an old man, snow-birds in the garden, choked deers by the last days of the year

tabutu gibi yanında ağzı açık kılıfı

lies remained from your childhood atlı tramvayın bir aralık günü ezdiği johan kalktı otopsi masasından, elinde beyni

circling like snow flakes around the dog trembling in the yard

“bana öğretin ayakta kalmayı öldüğümde”

they found the f string broken double bass üç çocuk nehir kıyısında ölü bir kuzgunu inceliyor değneklerle

hanging down a tree by the lake, its half open case was like a coffin aside

morartan mart soğuğunda

johan, who was crushed by a horse-tram, bir baykuş sallanıyor dalda kahkahayla

got up from the autopsy table, holding his brain in his hands and said “teach me how to stand still when I am dead”

three kids are examining a dead crow by the sticks, by the river everything becomes blue in the march cold

an owl swings on a branch as it bursts in a laughter

(from “eve geç kaldım yalnızlık bekler”. Tranlated by Gökçenur Ç.)

NURDURAN DUMAN

Nurduran Duman is a Turkish poet and playwright who lives in Istanbul. Pursuing her

passion

for

the

sea,

she

received

a

degree

as

an

Ocean

Engineer

and

Naval

Architect from the Istanbul Technical University. And, she’s a columnist in one of the most prestigious newspapers of Turkiye, Cumhuriyet.

Her books include Yenilgi Oyunu, the 2005 Cemal Sureya Poetry Award winner, and Mi

Bemol.

Semi

Circle,

a

chapbook

of

her

poems

translated

into

English,

was

published in the United States in 2016, and “Selected Poems” (2017, MacedonianEnglish-Turkish) in Macedonia, “Selected Poems” (2019, Dutch-English-Turkish) in Belgium. Her poetry collection “Steps of Istanbul” (2019, Chinese-English-Turkish) was published in China in 2019, and was awarded as “The Poetry Collection of the Year

of

the

Second

Boao

International

Poetry

Award”.

She

featured

in

the

#internationalwomensday2018 (#IWD18) Modern Poetry in Translation (MPT) list of ten women poets in translation from all over the World in 2018.

Her

poems

Turkish,

also

have

Bulgarian,

been

translated

Romanian,

Slovak,

into

Finnish,

French,

Chinese,

German,

Spanish,

Occitan,

Azerbaijani

Macedonian,

and

Italian etc. She curated two events in Istanbul in 2019, in the name of the World Poetry Movement. She is a member of Turkish PEN.

gök yerleşmiş göle

gök yerleşmiş göle, bulutlar uçan halı adımladık adımlıyoruz ayı, yürüyüşünü üstünden geçiyoruz dansının, suyla zamanın

uçuşarak hidrojen etekleri süzülüyor yanımızdan başımızdan. tan. saçıp saçılarak tarçından maviye elmastan arıdan tarlalar bahçeler beziyoruz yerin ipeğine

öğreniyoruz biz de ekip biçmeyi: ışığı

the sky settled on the lake

the sky settled on the lake, the clouds a flying carpet we prepare to step on the moon, its walk and pass over the moon’s dance, its water and time

rustling hydrogen skirts float passing by our sides by our heads. daybreak. we spread and are spread from cinnamon to blue from diamond from bee we’re graced with fields and gardens on the earth’s silk

we, too, are learning to cultivate: the light

(Trasnlated by Andrew Wessels)

yeti

ışık çarpışır çiçekle göz varsa renk olur yoksa oluştur, olan oluşur sadece

kulak yoksa ormanda çıtırdasın yaprak ses oluştur sadece, yankının bekleyişi dağı

koku koklanmak ister ad için isim için uçuşur çeperden çeper, tenin tenle bilişi

insan artı biridir dünyanın katma değeridir, ayrı ayrı vergisi aynı sevişi

ability

light collides with the flower if there’s an eye color becomes if there’s no eye it’s just being, becoming becomes only

if there’s no ear let the leaf crunch sound is only being, the echo waiting for the mountain

scent desires inhalation to discern/divine the name the reputation membrane flies from membranes, the knowing of skin with skin

the human is the plus one of the world she is the added value, individual talents the same loving

(Translated by Andrew Wessels)

BETÜL TARIMAN

Betül

Tarıman

is

a

Turkısh

poet

and

essayist.

She

studied

History

at

Hacettepe

University. Her first poem appeared in Kıyı magazine in 1992. Other magazines that have

included

her

work

are

Varlık,

Gösteri,

Sözcükler,

E

Edebiyat,

Damar,

Yasak

Meyve, Adam Sanat and Edebiyat ve Eleştiri. She was the recipient of the Necatigil Poetry Prize in 2005. She currently writes literary essays for Cumhuriyet Kitap.

AGOSTİNO

AGOSTİNO

bana bir gün biri one day somebody gave me a blue bir mavi verdi ı got confused aklım karıştı the world is the oldest dünya en eski blue mavi

ı sat down in the corner oturdum köşeye snow fall down on my shoulders omuzlarıma my soul is the oldest kar düşmüş blue köşelerimden biri en eski mavi

anlama indim

ı sought after the meaning

anlamaya olup biteni

to understand what is going on

aklım karıştı

ı got confused

yüzüm en eski

my face is the oldest

mavi

blue

herkes benden kötü

everybody is worse than me

herkes benden ötürü

everybody is because of me

dün bana biri geldi

yesterday somebody came to me

tenim en eski mavi

my skin is the oldest blue

(Translated by Özgün Eylem Aktaş)

DEM DEM DEM

TİME TİME TİME

time time time dem bu dem eyes are looking up to sky gözleri göğe eyebrows are scowling at it kaşları kalkan

yesterday ı was contented dün zengindim today ı m lonely bugün tenha

time time time dem dem dem time is a river wich wrecks its own dem bu dem strem bed fazla yaşamak yatağını zorlayan should ı live a lot? ırmak or should ı die? az mı yaşasam for not to ashame theearth çok mu yaşasam toprağımı utandırmasam should ı be a cliff?

uçurum mu olsam

(Translated by Özgün Eylem Aktaş)

C. HAKKI ZARIÇ

C.

Hakkı

Zariç

was

born

in

the

town

of

Susuz,

which

is

located

in

the

east

of

Turkey, on January 5, 1972. For nearly ten years he was imprisoned on the basis of his political views. Together with some of his friends, he published a journal titled Ağır Ol Bay Düzyazı (Take it Easy, Mr. Prose). He served as an editor for Evrensel Culture Magazine and Evrensel Publications, which were both shut down upon the issuance of a state legislative decree. His poetry and articles have been published in Turkish journals such as İzlek, Öteki-siz, Varlık, Yasakmeyve, Edebiyat-ist, Rüzgâr, Bireylikler, Yeni e, and Eliz Edebiyat. Not only has his work been translated into various directed

languages, a

he

has

documentary

been

about

invited

literature

to

a

number

titled

Zaman

of

international

Işık

Kelimeler

festivals.

(Time,

He

Light,

Words), which was broadcast on the channel Hayat TV. Currently, he works for a non-profit

organisation

and

serves

as

editor

of

the

culture,

arts,

and

literature

magazine Yeni e and the Turkish publisher Manos Books.

Books (in Turkish):With the Burn in Our Mouths (1999), If Only… (2001), Letters to Poets (2006), With You (2006), Zero (2014), Shame and Dignity (2015), Women of Dust (2015), Zoster (2017), and The Warning (2019).

Awards

in

Turkey:

His

poem

“If

Only…”

was

awarded

the

Mısralık

Youth

Poetry

Prize in 2000, and he won second place at the 2008 Behzat Ay Literature Awards. In 2017, he was granted the BUYAZ Honorary Poetry Prize.

In addition to being a member of the Turkish Writers’ Union, for which he served as general secretary during its 19th, 20th, and 21st terms, he is also a member of PEN International.

Yaşlı evlerin özlediği çocuk seslerinden geçtim Konuk olduğum limandan batık gemiler geçti

Güz Ağrısı

İnsan nerede duruluyor ki…

Bilemedim Kim söker ölü atların toynağından nalbandın çekiç seslerini?

Sorudur, aynaların geçmişinde saklıdır gözleri.

Sesini çınar yaprağına ödünç veren kentlerde yaşayan kimdir?

Serinliğin uğramadığı çeşmelerde su kimsesizliğe akar, ömrümüz şelale.

Mektup yazsan pulda güz ağırlığı, yola çıksan zarf ödünç.

Kış’tan yorgun sözcükler satır başında eksikti sabaha.

Durgunluğun telaşıyla kırıldı Sur, çayın deminde utanç birikti.

Ihlamurdan sonra içine çekildi bahçeler, Erdal Eren’den evvel Ankaralı ve yerleşikti ayaza tuzak. Ufalmış sokakların saçını tarayan caddeler yeni gelenlerin kollarında dineldi. Kiminin yarasına incir yaprağı, kiminin hakisi için defne körükledi pişmanlığı.

Dağın mendilinde eter, çığlık yutkunan istasyonda yürümenin bakiyesi eteklerini topladı yağmurdan.

Hayata kaldır başını, yoldaki taş onarsın kalbini geride kalanın.

Hangi kapıdan geçsen toprağın imzası kazılı mermere, bunu biliyor lacivert erkân ve öncesi.

Dizini dövmedi doruktan uzağa bakanlar, herkesin içinde kundaklanmış telaş, ellerine şaşırdı herkes, yaz’ın sözlerini fısıldadı durmuş saatlere geri çekilenler.

Suça meyli kışkırtmayan yaşadım demesin!

Aşkın huzuru sevdiğine kim tanık olmuş, ne hakla?

Kalbi kırılsın eğninde tılsım gezdirenin.

Uzağa hükmü geçmeyenin şarkısını kim söyler ki Kütahya’da?

Yanıtı yoktur haritanın somut olana.

Ben sana su kuşları, gazete dağıtan işçiler, ben sana yazılı kâğıt.

Uzun namlulu bir öfke gibi uzaktan ben sana.

Leylakların çocukluğu saklı sanki orada akşama kalmış sözcükler, kıvılcım salyaları vuruyor kentin kıyılarına.

Hatıra saklayacağımız ağaç dibi kalmadı. Issız ve ev doluyuz.

Kuytular mahsur nicedir, güneşi bekliyor bütün gece mülteciler.

Yalan silkeliyoruz aynaların üstüne.

Kehribar kederler edindik, yalnızlıktan daha fazlası yaşadığımız.

Acıtan ve sevdiğini iddia eden bir dünya bu, ölsek umurunda değil, yaşadıkça alacaklı hayatımızdan.

Yine de kalbimizi çelmenin bin yolunu biliyor, insafsız! İnsafsız!

Süzülsün gemiler, batsın liman!

I traversed children’s voices that old houses longed for, Shipwrecks traversed the harbour where I was a guest

Autumn Ache

Where could anyone settle down…

I wouldn’t know Who pries the ringing of the farrier’s hammer from dead horses’ hooves?

A question, its eyes obscured within the histories of mirrors.

Who lives in the towns that lend their voices to a sycamore leaf?

Fountains unvisited by coolness flow into desolation, our lives are waterfalls.

If you write a letter, the stamp bears the weight of autumn, if you set off on a journey, the envelope is a borrowed one.

By morning, words wearied by winter were missing from the indents of their lines.

Sur was sundered by the hurried stillness, shame pooled in the darkly steeped tea.

After the linden trees, the gardens also withdrew into themselves, they had settled in Ankara long before Erdal Eren, traps against the frost.

Avenues that comb the hair of shrinking streets stood tall in the arms of newcomers. Some had fig leaves for their wounds, while daphnes fanned the flames of regret for the khaki of others.

Ether on the mountain’s handkerchief, in that station which gulps down screams the remnants of walking drew back its skirt from the rain.

Raise your head up to life, may the stone upon the ground mend the hearts of whoever has been left behind.

No matter which door you pass through, the soil’s signature is etched into marble, the dark blue dignitaries know this as do those who came before them.

None who gazed from the peak into the distance pounded their knees, the flicker of haste was fanned aflame within everyone, all were surprised by their hands, and those in retreat whispered the words of summer into clocks that had stopped.

Those who don’t incite others to crime have no right to say they have lived!

Who has ever borne witness to love’s affection for peace, how dare they claim so?

May whoever wears an amulet strung across their shoulders be heartbroken.

In Kütahya, who could sing the song of those who hold no dominion over distance?

The map has no response for that which is concrete.

I am to you as waterbirds, workers handing out newspapers, I am to you as handwritten pages.

I am to you as far away as long-barrelled fury.

The childhoods of lilacs seem to be hiding there, words lingering overnight, the spittle of sparks crashing against the town’s shoreline.

There are no more trees for us to hide our memories under. We are solitary and yet a packed house.

Secluded places have long been cut off, refugees wait all night long for the sun to appear.

We brush off lies onto the surfaces of mirrors.

We acquired sorrows of amber, what we endure is much more than solitude.

This is a world that inflicts pain and says it loves, yet not caring if we die a claimant upon our lives until the day of our death.

Still, it knows a thousand ways to steal our hearts, that savage! That savage!

Let the ships glide on, let the harbour plunge down!

Su sonra Su Kasten su

toz yüzyılı

İnsan nerede doğmuyor ki…

Yoldaş Paramaz’a ve…

Ekmeğin şiirden kovulduğu yerden geliyorum Bütün meyhaneciler Rum. Ömrümü kime emanet etsem?

Gecenin kumaşı eskimiş, uykusu doğranmış perdelerin, kasaturalar Avlu kapılarında potin izleri. Gençlikten konuşuyoruz, ilk şarkısı İdam edilen bir halkın kalkışmasından, mağrur ufuk çizgisi bazen Umutsuz mavisinde serçelerin göğü. Meydanlar ve barut kokusu Unutmanın perçeminde saklıyor yorgunluğun ölgün rengini Umursamaz masalarda nasırlı dirseklerin aklından yekinmek geçmiyor

Gidelim, Van’da ikimizin resmini yapacak biri vardır mutlaka Çiçekleri yoracak annemizin peştemalinde

Her nasılsa bir eve armağan ediyorum beni, uzun saçlı bir dalgınlık gibiyim. Pencerede gözlerim eskiyor, uzak bir söylence dolaşıyor yenilerde. En çok Diyarbakır, bazen Kars, Afyon hatta, İzmit belki de Kastamonu. Tırpanla biçiyor insanın ömrünü Haydarpaşa’dan kalkan tren Seni Gümüşsuyu’nda bir kuyunun kör sesine bağırsam kim çıldırır ikimizden

Ki rüzgârın sesi dolaşıyor zeytinliklerde, kırılmış kalemden geriye Yanıtsız bir ülkenin uzun parmaklı elleri ve mahcup bir hâkim kalıyor

Oysa ödünç hüzünler büyütüyoruz nicedir katiller meşru müdafaa savcılar için. Devlete delil gerekmez. Ninni çözer meseleyi.

Utanır üç ayaklı ahşap ve urgan.

Sen saçlarını uzat sevgilim İstanbul’dan Suriye çöllerine doğru savur yüz yılı.

Erken ölenlerin sesi gibi, dalgın kentlere düşen çiğ gibi telaşlı sabahlar İncinmiş bir halkın susması gibi konuş, onların sesiyle sula çiçekleri

Then, water Water Wilful water

a century of dust

People can be born anywhere and everywhere…

For Comrade Paramaz and….

I come from a place where bread has been driven from poetry, All the taverna keepers are Greek. In whose hands shall I place my life?

The fabric of night is threadbare, the sleep of curtains butchered, bayonets Boot marks on the courtyard gates. We talk of youth, the uprising Of a people whose first song was executed, the horizon is haughty sometimes, The sky of sparrows a despairing blue. Town squares and the stench of gunpowder Veil the faded hue of exhaustion beneath the fringe of forgetting Calloused elbows propped on apathetic tables never think of rising

Let’s go, there has to be someone in Van who can draw our picture, Exhaust the flowers on our mother’s peshtemal

Somehow I make a gift of myself to a house, I am like a long-haired state of distraction. In the window my eyes become worn, of late a distant myth has been wandering. Diyarbakır most of all, sometimes Kars, even Afyon, perhaps İzmit or Kastamonu. The train departing from Haydarpaşa mows down our lives with a scythe

If I shout your name into the blind voice of a well in Gümüşsuyu which of us will go mad?

And as the wind’s voice roams the olive groves, all that remains from a broken pen Are the long-fingered hands of a country without answers and a humiliated judge

But for so long now we have been cultivating borrowed sorrows, in the eyes of prosecutors murderers act in self-defence. The state needs no evidence. A lullaby will solve the problem.

A three-legged stool and rope hang their heads in shame.

My love, hold out your hair from Istanbul Drive the century toward Syrian deserts.

Uneasy mornings like the voices of the untimely dead, like dewdrops descending on distracted towns, Speak like an aggrieved people who now keep silent, water the flowers with their voices!..

(Poems Trasnlated By İdil Karacadağ &Mark David Wyer)

METIN TURAN

Metin

Turan

technical in

Şiir,

born

education,

1981.He

writer

was

in

has

many

Erde,

in

1966

health

and

contributed progressive

which

in

Kağızman

economics.

as

a

in

His

publishing

editions

published

(Kars-Turkey).

the

such

as;

1980s.

first

tale

was

coordinator, Amatör

Also

he

studied

published

delegate

Sanat,

has

He

İmece,

contributed

and Yeni

to

the

magazines as an owner: Sanat Hareketi, Promete, Sendika, Ürün, Anadolu Ekini,

Mecaz

Folklore

ve

Service

Praksis.

Award

In

of

1995,

he

Folklore

was

honored

Research

with

Institution.

the He

Turkish was

the

folklorist who won this award at the youngest age so far. Metin Turan is the

president

Literatures

of

KIBATEK

Institution)

and

(Cyprus,

Folklore

Balkans,

Researchers

Eurasian

Foundation.

Turkish

His

poems

were translated into Polish, German, Arabic, Bulgarian, Persian, English, Korean, In

Macedonian,

addition,

Serbian

his

and

Romanian,

book

Russian,

“KÖROĞLU”

published

in

these

was

countries.

Uzbek,

Ukrainian

translated In

into

1997-98,

he

and

Greek.

Albanian worked

in

and the

Ministry of Culture of the Republic of Turkey; Culture and Art Broadcast Advisory Board and Folk Culture Broadcast Advisory Board. Also he was a

member

of

publishing contents

the

coordinator

are

literature, publishing Literatures

editorial

and

of

folklore, has

director

of

“Türk

published

KIBATEK

Institution),

Dünyası”

magazine.

FOLKLOR/EDEBİYAT

anthropology,

been of

board

which

sociology,

since

1994.

(Cyprus, started

In

magazine

history,

he

Eurasian,

activities

in

is

the

whose

music

addition,

Balkans,

its

He

is

and the

Turkish

1998,

and

TURNALAR, an international translation and literary magazine.

His

poetry

Ülkeler

books:Suları

-şiir-

(2007),

Islatan

Ağustos

Gidiş (seçme şiirler) (2015).

Mecnun Aldı

–şiir-

Sırlarımı

(2003), -şiir-

Sokaklar

(2013)

and

Kentler Hal

ve

GÖZLERİNDEN YAKALADIM SENİ

Caught You By Your Eyes

hüznümü sevince döndüren

your face was a lilac sun

leylak bir güneşti yüzün

turning my sorrow into joy

gerdanından yakaladım seni

I caught you by your neck

taş merdivenleri döndükçe endamından

as I climbed the staircase of your figure

saçının rüzgarından yakaladım seni

I caught you by the wind of your hair

buğday sarısı bir dalgadır,

a wave as yellow as wheat

upuzun ki haritası gibi sevdamın

as long as the map of my love

yolculuğu gölge kılıp günüme

I caught you by the way you left,

çıkıp gitmenden yakaladım.

the journey was the shadow of my day.

You know how the earth becomes a fairground bayram açar ya yeryüzü

I caught you by your hand

yüzün yüzüme değer gibi

as if your face touched mine

elinden yakaladım seni I caught you by your eyes gözlerinden yakaladım seni

an aquamarine infinity

bakır çalığı bir uçsuzluk

by the fire of your voice

mermeri

that melts marble

eritiveren

sesinin yalımından now your hands smell like jasmine şimdi yasemen kokusu ellerin

and your skies have bloomed into April

ve nisan açmış gökyüzünle

and you are in another continent

bir başka kıtada sen

with me in yet another, growing your melancholy

efkarını büyüten başka bir kıtada ben I caught you by my life ömrümden yakaladım seni (Translated by Cem Akaş)

YALNIZLIK KİTABESİ

bilirdim bütün falcıların yalancı aşkların inkarcı olduğunu gözlerim de yoruldu/ömrümü seyretmekten

leylekleri fotoğraftan seyrediyor çocuğum soluk bir sonbahar resmi gibi kendini görse aynada

elini ürkerek uzatıyor

belgesellerin bu kadar ilginç olması ondan eve yorgun dönen babaya dönüşmüş hepsi sırtlarında taşımaktan korktukları okul kitapları

çizgiye dönüşse gözyaşın dünya sele boğuluyor herkes belediye başkanına buluyor suçu aynı coğrafyayı

betonlaştırıyor

attığımız her izmaritten yonttuğumuz selvi dalından ağaçtan, börtü böcekten habersiz ödenmez bir ah’ın günahını taşıyoruz

sırtını rüzgara vermiş ömrün ortasındayım artık gölgeyi kendine saklayan söğüt ağacı sular ki buharlaşır kurur her yanım attığım sapanla kendimi vuran ben şimdi ormanımda yalnız ardıcım.

fincanlarla kadınların kahveyle gerçeğin yerini değiştiren aklım sana da elveda diyor gönlüm bir ısparta gülü kadar beyaz emirdağ türküsü kadar

yalnız.

The Epitaph of Loneliness

I knew that all fortune tellers were liars that every love is denial and my eyes grew weary watching my life go by

my son follows the storks in a photograph like a faded autumn painting when he sees himself in a mirror he timidly reaches out that’s why documentaries are so interesting all children have turned into tired fathers coming home with books they are afraid to carry on their backs

when your tears turn into lines the whole world is flooded everyone blames the mayor and covers our lebensraum with cement we carry the sin of a curse that offers no redress, oblivious of every cigarette butt we throw away, of the cypress branch we sharpen, of all the trees and insects

my back turned to the wind, I’m in mid-life now a willow saving its shadow for itself the waters evaporate, leaving me dry all over I hit myself with my sling now I am the lonely juniper in my forest.

my mind replaces women with cups, reality with coffee, my heart, as white as a rose, [my heart, as white as a rose from ısparta] as lonely as the blues, [as lonely as a folk song from emirdağ] bids you farewell.

(Translated by Cem Akaş)

HAKAN CEM

Hakan Cem (1961-): State

Sypmhony

The writing and poems of

Orcherstra,

have

been

published

Cem who is cellist for the İzmir by

the

publishing

houses

Varlık,

Kitap-lık, Forbidenfruit, Özgür Edebiyat etc. And have also been published on the internet poems

Artful

were

Living

translated

Literature into

portal

French,

as

Cem

well

as

together

in

literary

with

journal.

poets

Sina

Some

Akyol,

of

his

Coşkun

Yerli and Seyhan Erözçelik, took place in the Renga poetry chain consisting of short poems

that

engage

with

the

human

condition

and

Encylopedia

of

“Literature

from

Tanzimat and Today” published by Yapı Kredi publishing. Cem is one of the few poets in the field of Haiku poetry in Turkey. Cem who is also a member of PEN Turkish Writers Association, lives in izmir.

Poetry: Beyon Silence (2004), Kiss Drops (2007), and Guide fort the Dead (2014, S Arısoy Poetry Award)

hiç’in vesveseli uzun şiiri

al götür sözlerimi, yazıya dökülenlerin adıyla oku! kuru otların şarkısını söylüyorum, derindekileri. ölüm efendisidir ben’in, itiraf ediyorum: yoruldum denize bakan yaşlı sandalyede. uysal gözlerim ve sabırlı bekleyişim daha çok bir orman gibi sessiz.

(…)

burada, yalnızın ocağında sana tutuştum. yoksun!

(gölgesini usulca ağacın gölgesine bıraktı. yeraltı sularıymış kayıkçının yol aldığı huzur!)

ölüm biziz!

the long restless poem of nothing

come and take my words, read them with the names of those that were written!

I sing the song of the dry grass, of the ones lost to the depths.

death is the lord of me, I

confess: I'm tired in the old chair facing the sea. my docile eyes and patient waiting are silent more like a forest.

(...)

here, in the hearth of loneliness I burn for you. you are not here!

(he casts his shadow softly into the shade of the tree. subterranean waters were the peace that the boatman sailed!)

death is us!

(Trasnlated by Alev Adil)

dünyanın dar sokağında

annem mualla cem’in 89. yaş anısına

oturuyorum – sandalyenin yorgunluğu gülümsüyor, tutsak sesi kim büyüttü seni?

in a narrow street of the world

yasemin çiçeği! – bahçe kapısına sarılan

In memory of my mother Mualla Cem's 89th birthday

gözleriyle, uzun yıllara duran yasemin çiçeği! – yorgun düşerek…

I'm sitting -

susuyor iç çeken kış rüzgârı iniltili sesiyle emilen sütün

the chair smiles its

weariness , its captive voice who raised you?

mayhoş tadı! – mermer yontuyor... the jasmin flower! – that hugged the garden gate

(…)

with its gaze, standing for long years the jasmine flower! -

falling tired ...

ölümün tazecik gençliği! the sighing winter wind falls silent

(…)

milk sucked with moaning sound its sour taste! – that sculpts marble ...

(uyanıp yaz ikindileri dudağında, daha şimdi sen vardın, diyor

(...)

dünyanın dar sokağında.) the fresh youth of death!

(...)

(Waking up

summer afternoons on her lips,

just now you existed, she says in the narrow street of the world.)

(Translated by Alev Adil)

NILAY ÖZER

Nilay Özer is an Istanbul born and raised poet. Nilay Özer graduated from Kandilli Kız Lisesi and studied biology teaching and primary teaching in Marmara University, Department of Biology Teaching and Department of Primary. After she worked as an elementary school teacher for two years she received her MA degree from Bilkent University, Department of Turkish Literature with her thesis about the form-content opposition in Turgut Uyar’s book entitled Divan. She received her PhD from the same department in 2012 with her dissertation titled “Images in Nâzım Hikmet’s Human Landscapes From My Country: Society, History and Cinema”. She has been teaching Turkish, Creative Writing and modern Turkish Literature in major universities and attained different workshops and gatherings about literature in various NGO’s and instutions since 2008.

Following her early poems published in various literary magazines including Varlık, Adam

Sanat

in

1995,

her

first

book

titled

Zamana

Dağılan

Nar,

was

published

in

1999. She received the Cemal Süreya Poetry Award in 2004 with her second book titled Ol!.. Her third book Korkuluklara Giysi Yardımı were published in 2015. Nilay Özer’s literature for children has been publishing by Yapı Kredi Yayınları including Meşe Palamudu Macanda (2015), Uçan Kaçan Bir Pijama Öyküsü (2016), Yara Bandı Fabrikası (2016), Üç Ejder Masalı (2017).

yüzü kelebeklerle örtülü

çiçeklerimi sulamanı istemiştim gömleği buruşuk petunyayı melek tavusa dönüşen begonvili hayvanlarımı doyurmanı istemiştim kanınla sütünle kendi etinle hep bir hayat nakli hasarsız organ nakli aramızdaki

eşyalarını taşırken boşaltırken evimi unuttururken sözlerimi zamana şunu yanıtla demiştim suyun kalbi neresinde neresinde suyun kalbi geçmişin bahçesinde bir taşın oyuğuna gömdüğüm kuş cesedini rüzgâra ver demiştim yapabildin mi hep bir mezar nakli kasıtsız anlam nakli aramızdaki

çelişkiyi benden al bu yokuşu bu düzü bir dağa isim düşünmüş kadar yorgunum çoğu zaman ve oldurmak istiyorum şeyleri bozkırın ortasında soyunup kelebekleri çağırıyorum tenimle gelip örtüyorlar yüzümü her yerimi hep bir rüya nakli uçuşsuz kanat nakli aramızdaki

üzüntünün şeklini almış bir köpek beni öylesine değiştirdi ki yaşayamıyorum eski yüzümle sende dudaklar gördüm iki ayrı denizden ağlayan gözler ne çölde kum sayımı ne ölü dilleri konuşan yağmur sıradan cümleler bağışla bana hep bir imkân nakli hep bir imkân nakli aramızdaki…

her face covered with butterflies

I asked you to water my plants the wrinkled shirt petunia the angel peacock bougainvillea I asked you to feed my animals with your blood your milk your own flesh always a life transplant an undamaged heart transplant between us

emptying my house of your belongings letting time forget my words I asked you to answer this where is the water’s heart the water’s heart where is it a garden of time past the bird I had buried in the hollow of a rock I asked you to hand it to the wind were you able to always a grave transplant an unintended meaning transplant between us

take away the conflict this climb this flatness from me I’m often so tired as if I’ve had to think up a name for a mountain and I want to bring things into being naked on a meadow I lure the butterflies to my skin they arrive to cover my face my entire body always a dream transplant a flightless wing transplant between us

a dog in the shape of sorrow has changed me so much I cannot live with my old face I saw lips on yours eyes that cry two separate seas neit her counting sands in the desert nor the rain speaking in extinct tongues offer me just plain sentences always a possibility transplant always a possibility transplant between us

(Translated by Aron Aji)

incir çatlatan

fig splitters

gidip gelip incirlere bakıyorsun

you come and go checking those figs

dallarda kalıyor gözlerin göz göz

your eyes caught in the eyelets among

şehrin ötelerinden

branches

yıkıntıların ve yağmur piyanosu çatıların üstünden

from the city’s outskirts

gidip gelip incirlere bakıyorsun

above the ruins the rain-piano roofs

yok mu bir olgunlaşan

you come and go checking those figs hasn’t even one ripened yet

incirler kendi sütleriyle kendi içlerini emziriyor

figs suckle themselves

incirler ham yalvaç henüz

feed on their own milk

daha var olgunlaşmalarına

these figs are green mere fledglings

sütten kesilmelerine daha çok var

still time before they ripen plenty of time before they wean

incir ağaçlarının altında neler oluyor sana bir baygınlık.. diz çözülmesi.. hatırlanmayan bir hatıra.. sesler duyuyor gölgeler görüyorsun incir ağaçlarının altında yaşam ve ölüm birbirlerine fısıldayarak senin adını bakıyorlar gözlerinin içine incir çatlatan

güneş kavuruyor kenti herkes kendisinden yorgun başkasından yorgun kum tanelerinin ayırt edilebilir sesi kumsalda dünya konuşuyor mu seninle neler söylüyor bir ormandan çıkıp bir ormana giriyorsun düşünde

incirlere bakıp duruyorsun günlerdir oysa var daha sütten kesilmelerine acılaşıyor ağzının safir suyu

what happens to you under the fig trees this dizziness weakness in the knees a memory unremembered you hear voices see shadows under the fig trees life and death whisper your name to each other they look into your eyes fig splitters

the sun is scorching the city everyone’s weary of himself everyone weary of the other these sounds of sand grains on the shore does the world speak to you what all does it say you walk out of a forest to walk into a forest in your dream

for days you’ve been checking the figs yet there’s time before they wean a sapphire secretion stings your mouth

bakarken bakarken diş çıkartan iştahın

your hunger teething as it craves the fruits

geçiveriyor incirlerin etine

digs into the figs’ flesh

ne zaman başladın

when did you start consuming

senden olmayanı sana kendini sunmadan

what isn’t yours before it offers itself to you

tüketmeye you came you checked the figs geldin.. incirlere baktın.. your gaze tore into the unripe body bakışınla çatlattın olmamışın bedenini.. it used to be firm it’s dried up on the branch sertti kurudu kaldı dalda its milk dripped into the emptiness boşluğa damladı sütü it split open like a breast yarıldı bir meme gibi

gökyüzü hikâyeni bilirdi

the sky has known your story

gökyüzü seni hayatın boyunca izledi

the sky has followed you all your life

bir ağacın ortasında saklanırdın neden

you used to hide yourself in a tree hollow

insan gömüyor ve unutuyor gömdüğü yeri

why do humans bury then forget where they buried

birinden kaçardın kimden

you used to run from someone

seni biri incitmişti memeden kesilmeden

someone had hurt you before you were weaned

incirin sütüne fısıldardın öfkeni

you used to whisper your anger into the fig’s milk

yok ki bir olgunlaşan..

but look

who was it

not even one has ripened

(Translated by Aron Aji)

ASUMAN SUSAM

Asuman Susam was born in Izmir and studied Turkish Language and Literature at Ege University. Her first poems appeared in Milliyet Arts Magazine in 1989, and the Young Poets Anthology of the same year. In addition to poetry, she also writes on literature

and

cinema,

and

her

articles

have

appeared

in

various

magazines.

Her

collection of poems is Kemik İnadı (2015) for which she was awarded the first Ruhi Su Prize for Poetry in 2016. The poet's last published book, is the Placenta(2018). yazı

Bir impalaydık belki sararan otlar afrikasında siz nereden bilecektiniz bir leşyiyici değilseniz.

Sesler birbirine karışırken Dirmit bir taraktan boşalırken sayıklamalar aynı ağızdan fısıldarken o çok yaşlı kadın ve kız çocukluğumuza iliştirilmiş muskalarda içrek sözlerde kaybolmuş, aldatılmış olabiliriz

büyümüş halimizle bir damın tepesinde ufkun sonsuzluğu baskısı üzerimizde biteviye söylenmiş söylenecek yalanlardan yorgun dünyayı bir tablo gibi seyrederiz el ayak çekildiğinde konuşkanlaşır

etraf

bunu bir ikimiz biliriz zamanın içine kaçmış taşları ayıklarız da zamanı parçalara ayıramayız

söz uğultusuyla yükselirken evlerin bacalarından bu dil başkasına nasıl çevrilir sır yoksa söz düşkün hafızanın camına çarpıp çarpıp bir öleydik bu kez

deriz

keçi yolunda yürümek bizim mırıldanma cesaretimiz

önce sesten sonra sözden geçmeliydik o boşboğaz dilbaz lafazan beylik sözden gözümüz değer değmez dünyaya kulak da işitsindi susunca yoktuk hayatta kalmak içindi gevezelik akan çeşmelere konuştuk akşamüstülere ağızdan ağıza uçtuk onunla büyüdük büyülendik

sonra loş bir kitaplığa düştük annemiz bildik onu da kadına yakışmaz dediler Dirmit kitap sizi üşütür sözden öyle alkor yanarken bir şey söylemedik harflerin kancaları vardı karanlıkta parlayan levh-i mahfuzdu, boştu tane tane okunaklı yazıydık yazılıydık artık.

Writing

we may have been the impala in Africa's yellowing grasslands how would you know if you were not a carrion eater

in the intermingling sounds, Dirmit, in the ravings streaming down from a comb in that ancient woman’s whisperings and the girl’s, in the same tongue we may have got lost, deceived among the arcane words in the amulets pinned to our childhood

in our grown-up state on a rooftop pressed down by the horizon with no end tired of the lies told and to be told nonstop our gaze is on the world like a painting it becomes chatty all around us in the dead of night only you and I know this we sort out the stones that have slipped down into time yet cannot break time into pieces

as words rise from the chimneys, humming how can this tongue be translated into another without its mystery the word is disabled hitting against memory's glass pane again and again we say, wish we just died this once walking up the footpath is our courage, murmuring

first we had to go through sound then words those tell-tale, glib, commonplace words the ear had to hear them once the eye touched the world

we didn't exist when silent, chattering meant survival talking to running fountains, to the evenings, we flew from mouth to mouth, we grew up with them, bewitched

then we tumbled into a darkish room of books we knew her as our mother too it doesn't become a woman, Dirmit, they said books will turn you cold like hot coal we flushed and burned with those words but said nothing the letters had hooks that shone in the dark in the ever-sheltered empty book of fortune, singly, one by one, and legibly we became writing itself, ourselves written down.

(TN: Dirmit, in the first line of the poem, is a reference to the young protagonist of Latife Tekin’s autobiographical novel (Sevgili Arsız Ölüm), written in 1981, now a modern classic of Turkish fiction.

Translated as Dear Shameless Death (by Saliha Paker and Mel Kenne, Marion Boyars,

2001), it tells the story of a young girl who grows up struggling in a world full of supersition, under the watchful eye of her mother and the rest of her family.)

sıcak taş

I Avuç içlerim kadar sıcak biriktirdiğim taşlar ağrıyan yerlerine bırakacağım tılsımını taştan bir heykele dönüşeceksin korkarım gözlerini öpeceğim elmacık kemiklerini suyun anlattıklarını dinleyen bir pars olacağım kanımın hışırtısıyla uyutacağım seni barbar diyecekler ama olsun sırf kemik kalacağız yolun sonunda bilge değilim boşuna sözümde durma benim

The Hot Stone

I. the stones i saved hot as the palms of my hands on your aching parts i'll leave them to work in their charm fearing you'll turn into a stone carving i'll kiss your eyes, your cheekbones be a leopard listening to the water's story put you to sleep with the rustling of my blood they'll call me barbarian, never mind at the end of the road we'll be nothing but bone i’m no one of wisdom so don't stand by my word in vain

ormanı okuyorum boş zamanlarımda

reading the forest at my leisure

gövdeye bakıp kökü görüyorum

i look at the trunks seeing the roots

ağaçların yatay serüvenini

the trees in their linear adventure

çayırlarında iyiyim ülkenin

in the meadows of this country I feel good

acı ot topluyorum zor zamanlara

i gather bitter herbs for hard times

şifa olarak duruyorum ağzının kenarında

i stand as healer at the edge of your mouth

ovayı titretip geçiyor yılkı dediğin o tek nefes

that single breath you call a jade horse shoots by,

rüya sanıyorlar onu yeryüzünün nabzı

shaking the plain

bir atın soluk soluğa terlemesi

they think it's a dream, pulse of the earth

aşkın iması say onu genleşen bir şimdi

a breathless horse, drenched in sweat take it as love's implication, present time expanding

II Orda kalsaydı dünya ya da biz atılmasaydık

II

buraya if the world were left out there

or

unutuyorum bunu taş sıcak avcum yangın if we hadn’t been hurled over here ... uyusam diyorum tümseklerinde ovanın i keep forgetting this ... the stone’s hot, my palm’s hatırlamak için sararana dek otlar on fire şarkı gelse, karanlığın kalbindeki oku çıkarsa if i slept in the mounds of the plain, i say, gitsem sonra ben, kuzey rüzgarlarına av olsam to remember till the grass turns pale and dry düşsem kendimden bir hayvan mezarlığına if the song came to pull out the arrow kemiklerin arasında kemik kalana kadar in the heart of darkness, then, if i made ağlasam. my way to be a prey to the north winds, if i dropped my self off in an animals’ graveyard and, till i'm left a bone among bones, wept.

(Poems Translated by Saliha Paker)

ELIF SOFYA

Elif Sofya (Istanbul, 18 August 1965) graduated from Istanbul University, Faculty of Economics.

She

continued

her

masters

education

at

the

Department

of

Business

Administration and Visual Arts at Istanbul Technical University. For a long time he worked on painting and opened exhibitions. He prepared and presented programs on culture, art and politics on a political radio. He worked as a television program editor.

His poems and writings have been published in various magazines and joint books.

Poetry books: Reverse Thought (Forbidden, 2005), Irregular (Pan / Heves, 2010), In meinem Mund ein Boomerang (collective; Wunderhorn, 2013), Dik Âlâ (YKY, 2014), and Hayhuy (YKY, 2019).

KUZULAR KUŞLAR

Siz bu ırmaklarda yıkanmadınız Hislenmediniz hiç histerilenmediniz Ne zor şimdi birden bire

hıçkırmak

Savrularak uçmak oradan buraya Ne zor şimdi içinizin açılması Açıklanması göğsünüzdeki o büyük taşın

Sarı sabır zamanlara doğdu çocukluğunuz Buradan hızlanarak geliyor suskunluğunuz Böyle ama böyle işte Derinizin değişmesi mesela

Lambs and birds

Kelimelerin kör kalması dilinizde Bundan işte

You didn’t get washed up in these rivers You didn’t get moved or hysterical

Şimdi sizinle ne yapılabilir Hangi kavgaya girsek Bileğiniz kırılgan ve kaypak Hangi ölüme karşı dursak

So hard for you to hiccup now all of a sudden Flying driven backwards and forwards So hard for you now to lay open Revealation of the big stone in your bosom

Midenizde kuzular kuşlar…

Born into times of yellow patience, your childhood To come picking up speed from here, your quietness Like this and just like this Your skin sheds for example Words stay dull in your tongue That’s why

What can be done with you now To which battle we run into Your wrist fragile and unreliable To which death we oppose In your tummy lambs and birds...

(Translated by Nazım Hikmet Richard)

SEVGİLİM

Bana göğsü kör bir kuyu sevgilim Ağzında bir marşın ortası Ellerinde son yüzyılın köşeleri sevgilim İçindeki çizik sanki Çin’den ve Sarı Nehir’den Bana biraz yabancı

My Dear

Giderek uzak bana sevgilim

To me, you are a dark well my dear Bir yıkım krallığı kuruyorsun hızlıca Irmaklara parmakların geçiyor Hidroelektrikleniyor serbestliği suların Kırlara kırılarak dağılırken hayvanlar Dağların derisi yüzülürken Kışkırtılmış kahkahalar boğuluyor yamaçlarımda İçimde ağaçlar ve

In your mouth there is the mid of a march In your hands the corners of this century my dear The scratch in you is as if from China And from the Yellow River A little exotic for me Breaking away my dear

çılgın çalgılarıyla kuşlar yürüyor You build a kingdom of disaster

O anda çiziyorum üstünü Gözlerine bir kış saklayıp güneşe çıkan sahtekâr sevgilim Kimi zaman her şey kolay Her şey mümkün Her şey düz

Your fingers passing through rivers The flowing of water is getting hidroelectrical The animals spreading out to the fields parting While the skin of the mountains being scalped Agitated laughters get stifled on my slopes Inside me walk trees and Birds with their loony instruments

Thus I draw on you My dear faker you go out to the sun Hiding a winter in your eyes Sometimes everything is easy Everything is possible Everything is simple

(Translated by Nazım Hikmet Richard)

BETÜL DÜNDER

Betül Dünder was born in Istanbul in 1975. She graduated from Anadolu University, Faculty of Literature, Department of Sociology. Her first poem was published in the magazine Varlık. She was found "remarkable" in the 2002 Yaşar Nabi Nayır Poetry Award;

ın

2005

Rıfat

"Jury Special Award".

University Identity academic

with

and

her

Ilgaz

thesis

"Being

Award

and

2005

A.

Zekâi

Özger

received

the

She completed her master's degree at Mimar Sinan Fine Arts titled

Representation

study

Poetry

a

in

"Being Poet

Woman

a

Woman

Women

among

after

Poets:

A

among 80".

Poets:

The

Book

of

The

first

Problem

volume

of

Conversations"

of the

was

published by Paradoks yayınları (2013). Her latest poetry book, "A Brief History of Forgetting" was awarded the 2018 Ruhi Su Poetry Award.

She participated in many national and international festivals. Her translated into many European and Eastern languages Yorgunluğu"

(Mayıs

Yayınları,

2005).

"Başka

poems have been

Published poetry books:

Dünyalar

İçinde"

2013) “Unutmanın Kısa Tarihi” (Yitik Ülke Yayınları, 2018)

(İkaros

Ayna

Yayınları,

MAKAS

Soruyorsun güne başlamaların neden böyle yaprakların üzerinde yürür gibi hışır hışır ellerin sürekli topluyor bir boşluğu neden

di yo rum hangi yola başlasam içimde ölümlü bir nefes dönemeçler, patikalar ve kâğıttan evler kendime kılavuz bildiğim kuşlar yangınlara uçuruyor beni oysa beni bütün yolların ortasından başlatmalılar

acının da paylaşımcı bir tarafı var bölüştürüyor kendini zamana ama kalanlardan olmak ne zor sevgilim ve olmayanın kelimeleriyle başlamak güne gördüğüm en son kar henüz erimedi bende çiy taneleridir dilimde tuttuğum ondandır içini soğuturum seni her öptüğümde

diyelim bir an yaşadığıma inandım seni sevince cüret ettim yaban atlara ve çayırlara bir onların yeleleri bir de senin gözlerin düş göremem koşturur dururum kendi içimde

soruyorsun yıldızları saymaktan usanmadım mı diye bir güz ikindisinde durup durup hatırladığım ne

çok zamandır hırçın bir makas duruyor elimde di yo rum kestiği bir kumaş kağıt olmayacak sorma bana sabah akşam çiğnediğim bu gül ne onu yuttuğum gün enime boyuma tüm dikey ve yataylığımla beni de senden kesecek o makas

Scissors

You ask why I start each day like this as if walking through rustling leaves hands forever gathering up emptiness why

I reply When I set out on any road within me are lodged mortal breath, sharp turns, paths and houses of paper The birds I took for guides Merely ferry me to where fires blaze In truth I must be set down in the middle of every road

pain too has its sharing side it portions itself out over time but my love how difficult to be stuck in the ruins starting each day with the words of what’s missing the last snowfall I watched has still to melt within me I hold its dewdrops there on my tongue And that is why you shiver inside whenever I kiss you

let us say loving you I believed I was really alive I dared into the meadows and up onto the wild horses Their manes and your eyes a vision I cannot see but still within I gallop and gallop

you ask if I have grown tired of counting the stars what is it I keep remembering this autumn afternoon

for an age now I have held a surly scissors in my hand sa y ing the cloth it cuts will never be paper do not ask me morning or evening what this rose i chew is for the day I swallow it from my the tip of my down to my toes this scissors will sunder you from me

( Translated by Neil P. Doherty )

İKİ DAĞ ARASINDA

Betül Dünder Rakka’da satmışlar kızkardeşimi elleri kalbinden büyükmüş alanın ağzı ellerinden büyük o kadar olur zaten çiğnemeden yutanın

dün bir serçe gördüm sanki uçarken ölmüş güneş ne zaman terk etti onu nasıl çekiverdi dağlara

ışıksız soğuk

gövdesine dolanmış kardeşimin bir kara sarmaşık Rakka da gök gök değil mi dağ dağ da dağa uçan kuş değil mi

yokluyorum kendimi etim kemiğime geçmiş ruhum akranım çıkmış içimi dolaşıyor acının suyu bu kızlar pazarı değil mi dün bir rüya gördüm sanki celladım üzerimde ölmüş

Between Two Mountains

Yesterday in Raqqa they sold my sister the buyer’s hands bigger than his heart his mouth bigger than his hands the fate of all those who swallow without chewing

yesterday I saw a sparrow dead as she flew when did the sun abandon her how did the lightless cold drag her into the mountains black ivy entangled round the body of my sister

is not the sky in Raqqa the sky the mountain the mountain is not that flying towards the mountain, a bird?

I inspect myself my flesh has penetrated my bones my soul has become my accomplice the waters of pain course through me is this not a market to sell girls In my dream last night I saw my executioner die upon me

I opened my eyes and cast him aside all I had lost was a single finger stuck there in Raqqa between two mountains just as I was showing my sister to God

(Translated by Neil P. Doherty)

ERKAN KARAKIRAZ

Erkan Karakiraz studied “English Language & Education”. He lives in İzmir. He is one

of

the

four

founders

of

“Açık

Şiir

Hareketi”

(Open

Poetry

Movement)

which

turned into ana international movement. His poems and essays were published and have

been

publishing

in

various

outstanding

literary

reviews

and

fanzines

both

in

Turkey and abroad.

He

edited

and

published

the

fanzines

titled

“Yerüstü”

(Overground),

“Şatokilitli”

(The Castle Is Locked) and “Yer Üssü Alfa” (Ground Base Alpha). He still continues to publish “Yerüstü” as a book series, and the adventures of the fanzine “Yer Üssü Alfa” continue. He is still on the editorial board of the literary magazine CazKedisi (JazzCat) which focuses on “poetry and poetry culture”.

His first poetry collection “İçgeçit” (Innerpath) was published by Noktürn Publishing in April 2016 and the second one “Gürült.” (Nois.) was published by KÇP Publishing in December 2018. He continues to write poems, critics, essays, plays and stories. He is also a musician, a video-art director and a performance artist.

varsayım 11: yirmi dokuz mart, 14:34:04

(ah) nasıl bilmem o güvenli kıyıyı? yolun en ümitsiz dönemecinde karşılaştım onunla. ben döktüm o çıplak cennetin çakıl taşlarını, denizini ben kuruttum... ne bu şiirin hammaddesi öyleyse? dil mi? kil mi? susmaksa en güzeli, niye var şiir? susmaları mı taçlandırıyor ele avuca sığmaz sözcükler? toprağa kök salmış mart kedileri, daha dürüst benden

assumption 11: twenty-ninth of march, 14:34:04

(ah) how do i not know that safe shore? i met him at the most desperate bend of the road. i poured the pebbles of that naked heaven, i dried its sea... so what are the basics of this poem? is it the language? or is it the clay? so if the best thing is being silent, why does the poetry exist? do unruly words crown the silences? the march cats rooted in the ground are more honest than me.

varsayım 15: dört nisan, 20:46:58

camgöbeği sarsıntı: iplerle yönetilen... şişe dibi rengi toprak, kıpkırmızı gök kubbe soluduğum havayı bıçaklayan sürgü titriyor elleri gök gürültüsünün kapatma suspus göğü!

assumption 15: the fourth of april, 20:46:58

a cyan shake: ruled by ropes... the earth colored in bottle bottom, a crimson vault of heaven the bolt that stabs the air i breathe the hands of the thunder are trembling don’t cover the mute sky!

(The Poems are trasnlated by Erkan Karakiraz)

ÇAĞLA MEKNUZE

Çağla

Meknuze

(Turkey,

1985)

is

a

poet

living

and

working

in

Istanbul.

She

graduated from Galatasaray University Communication Faculty (2007), served as a reporter, editor and producer for NTV between 2008 and 2011. She was invited to participate

in

the

group

exhibition Young,

New,

Different

in

2014 at

Gallery

Zilberman. Her poetry series The Body of Ave won the notable category of the 2015 Varlık Magazine Yaşar Nabi Nayır Youth Award and was published as a book. Her poems

have

appeared

in

many

literary

magazines,

both

in

Turkey

and

abroad,

including the 2017-2018 World Poetry Almanac, which includes 100 poets from 70 countries.

Poetry

The

festivals

Festival,

the

2nd

she

participated

Offline

in

Istanbul

include

the

International

2nd

International

Poetry

Festival,

Nilüfer

the

11th

International Istanbul Poetry & Literature Festival and the Winternachten 2020 in The Hague. She was one of the final laureates entitled to participate in the project Be Mobile-Create Together! and was residing Writers Unlimited in January 2020, in the Hague.

Her poetry is also available in English, Dutch, Croatian, Kurdish and Hebrew

bunca kötülük arasında

seni bekledim ateşböceklerini kafesliyor ipekböceklerini kaynatıyordu insanlar

seni bekledim

Amongst All This Evil

denizden balık çalıyorlardı koyundan kuzu

I have waited for you people caging fireflies

seni bekledim

boiling up silkworms

sirkten kaçan filleri vurdular atları nalladılar

I have waited for you they plundered fish from the sea

seni bekledim

lambs from their ewes

köylerin adı değişti satıldı kız çocukları

I have waited for you they shot runaway circus elephants

seni bekledim

they whipped

their horses

ormanlar yakıldı harlandı ateşe olan açlıkları

I have waited for you village names changed

bunca kötülük arasında

daughters all sold

sevmişiz birbirimizi bunca kötülük arasında seni beklerim beklerim

I have waited for you forests burned hunger burstıng into flames

amongst all this evil somehow we loved each other amongst all this evil I’ll wait for you I’ll wait

(Translated by Claire Ölmez)

oysa tarih yazmadı hiçbir kadın kaşifi

döndüm içime uyudum dünyanın tüm şehirlerini kapanmadı gözlerim güneşi batmayan ucunda gezegenin sonra yetindim alacakaranlığıyla diğer köşenin

geçtim

Yet History Has No Record of Any Woman Explorer

kimi aşk kimi savaş kimi açlık ülkelerini hiçbirinde yadırgamadım yerimi

I returned to my inner self and slept through all the cities of the world My eyes remained open at the edge of the planet

günaydınında tınısı var nicedir konuşulmayan dillerin

where the sun does not set and then sufficed with twilight from the other side

ritmine aşinayız tanınmamış kabilelerin

I passed through lands of love

dünya yuvarlak kanıtıdır bu gece başladığım yerdeyim

of war of famine And never felt out of place

vardığım yerdesin Languages long – forgotten resonate with your ‘good morning’ We recognise the rhythms of unfamiliar tribes

The earth is round Tonight is the evidence I am where I started You are where I arrived

(Translated by Claire Ölmez)

METIN CENGIZ

Metin Cengiz, particularly

poet

on

the

and

writer

problems

was of

born

poetry.

on His

3

May, poems

1953 are

in

Göle-Kars.

translated

into

He

wrote

nearly

40

languages and his book has been published in 13 languagaes. He wrote 18 poetry book and 16 theorical and essay books. He has received numerous prestigious awards in his country and other countries.

AYNI KADER

The Same Fate

Uyuyorum,

I am asleep

Bahçedeki ağaçla aynı kaderi paylaşıyorum.

Sharing the same fate as the tree in the garden

Onun dallarında kuşların hafif uykusu,

On its branches the light sleep of birds

Benim dallarımda gecenin bağışladığı düşünceler. On my branches thoughts the night has bestowed

Uyanıyorum,

I wake up

Akşamdan kalma bir yağmur serinliği düşümde.

In my dream the hungover cool of rain

Dün gece soluğunu tutmuş güneş

Yesterday the sun held its breath

Uyuyor düşüncelerimin gölgesinde.

And slept in the shade of my thoughts

ORADA

There

Biliyorum

I know

Orada, karanlıkta

There in the dark

Deşip duruyor yüreğini

A mole is tearing at your heart

Toprağı alt üst eder gibi bir köstebek

As if it were turning the soil upside down

Gecenin güneşi içinde

In the sun of the night

Alevden atkısını dolamış boynuna

Your scarf of flame round your neck

Yürüdüğün yoldan geliyor

It comes down the road you walk

Ben tıpkı bir gece kuşu gibi

And like some night bird

Acının sağlam ipine bağlıyorum

I bind myself to pain’s sturdy rope

Ve bir muammaya taşıyorum kendimi

To bear myself into some riddle

Burada, karanlıkta

Here, in the dark

Biliyorum, yol ısıtacak kemiklerimi

I know, the road will warm my bones

Beni rüzgâra çarşaf gibi assa da

Even if it hangs me out like a sheet in the wind.

(Poems translated by Neil P. Doherty)

EFE DUYAN

Efe

Duyan(b.

been

invited

readings since

1981, to

and

several

including

in

Turkey)

workshops,

international

2009,

Evenings

İstanbul,

has

poetry

organizations

Turkish

Copenhagen,

Poetry

Word-Express

Project (series of poetry readings in several Balkan

Countries),

Festival,

London

Festival,

Edinburgh

Book

Lodeve

Fair,

Poetry

Book

Berlin

Poetry

Festival,

Riga

Poetry Days, Swiss PEN's Day of Writers in Prison

Meeting

in

Geneva,

Goran's

Spring

Festival in Croatia, Felix Poetry Festival in Antwerp, Writer’s Month Reading Series in Slovakia,

Czechia,

Poland

and

Ukraine,

Mexico City Poetry Festival, Divan: Berlinİstanbul Project, Eurovision Poetry Series in Berlin,

İzmir

Literature

Festival,

Iowa

University International Writers Residency, and

Hurst

Visiting

Professorship

at

St.

Louis University among others.

He gave guest lectures on poetry at Ca-Foscari University, Atlanta University, and George

Washington

University,

affiliated

to

Boston

Massachusetts

University

as

a

short-term scholar.

Some of his poems have been translated into Bosnian, Czech, Chinese, Croatian, and many other languages.His translation works in poetry includes poetry collections of Radu Vancu (Romania), Matthias Göritz (Germany) and Lloyd Schwartz (USA).He co-created

poetry

workshops

along

with

the

Istanbul

Offline

International

Poetry

Festival, Turkish American Poetry Days and Gaziantep International Poetry Festival.

He

acts

as

International Carolina.He

the

Turkish

Archives has

been

and

co-editor advisor

included

in

of to

the

Rotterdam Nâzım

Poetry

Hikmet

anthology

of

Foundations’s

Poetry

Turkish

Festival

Poetry

Poetry

in

North

PAPER

SHIP

(Great Britain, 2013), European Poetry Anthology GRAND TOUR (Germany, 2019), and EUROPOESIE – 21st Century Poetry Anthology (Great Britain, 2019).He worked in the editorial committees of literature magazines Nikbinlik (2000-2005) and Sanat Cephesi (2006-2010) and Istanbul Offline Magazine (2016-2019). His critical essay The

Construction

of

Characters

in

Nâzım

Hikmet’s

Poetry

has

been

published

in

2008. He edited a contemporary poetry anthology Bir Benden Bir O’ndan (2010) and is

a

member

Istanbul.His

of

the

poetry

Questions,

2016),

2006).

is

He

editorial

board

collections

Tek

currently

University in Istanbul.

Şiirlik

are

Aşklar

teaching

of

the

Sıkça (One

history

of

acclaimed Sorulan Poem

literature Sorular

Stands,

architecture

at

2012)

magazine

Offline

(Frequently

Asked

and

Mimar

Takas

Sinan

(Swap,

Fine

Arts

BEN DEĞİL

NOT ME

seni öper öpmez

as soon as I kiss you

bir buz parç

an ice floe

giriyor damarlarıma

enters my veins

ve yavaşça erirken

and while melting slowly

dönüp duruyor bedenimin çevresinde

it circulates through my body

tutuyorum nefesimi

I hold my breath

birden duruyor dünya

the world stops

ve bir kahin gibi hissediyorum kendimi

and I feel like a diviner

uzayın karanlığında

in the darkness of space

takımyıldızları canlanıyor

constellations come alive

büyük ayı’nın kuyruğu, aslan’ın gözü

the great bear's tail, the lion's eye

sönmüş yıldızların anıları dökülüyor

the memories of extinguished stars

buruşmuş çarşafın üzerinde

fall on the crumpled sheets

bir boya paletine benziyoruz

we look like an artist's palette

çoktan yeryüzünden silinmiş bir dilde

color names

renk adları

roll out of my tongue

çıkıyor ağzımdan

in a language long erased from the earth

uzanıp bir daha öpüyorum seni

I lean and kiss you again

bu defa

this time

akıyor üzerimden

everything I've known

tüm bildiklerim

flows across my body

akıp gidiyor

and down

evrenin giderinden

the drain of the universe

biliyorum

I know

seviştiğimizi bedenim anımsayacak sadece

only my body will remember we made love

ben değil

not me

( Translated by Aron Aji )

SABAH MİTOLOJİSİ

Morning Mythology

Efe Duyan

the gods were still asleep

daha uyanmamıştı tanrılar

my joy of life

yaşama sevincim

was feeding on

ölüm korkumdan

my fear of death

besleniyordu dust had gathered üzerinde toz birikmişti

on the dreams I told you about

sana anlattığım rüyaların I'd been steering my youth gençliğimi sürüyordum

like pushing a shopping cart

bir alışveriş arabasını

slowpoke, hipshot

ağır aksak iter gibi * * the gods had not yet started daha gündelik

their daily chores

İşlerinde başlamamıştı tanrılar the dreams I didn't tell you about sana anlattığım rüyalardan

I was making into gifts and souvenirs

hediyelik eşyalar topluyordum my morning cheer sabah neşem

was feeding not on people

İnsanlardan değil de

but, strangely, on my fears

Korkularımdan besleniyordu nedense *

* the gods were still yawning the worlds they'd made, some already worn out esniyordu daha tanrılar I had turned to you, was wearing away çoktan eskimişti dünyalarından bazıları but not turning into you sana dönmüştüm ben, eskiyordum ama sana dönüşmüyordum

her rüyanın sonunda

at the end of every dream

beyaz havlular sallıyordu bize

the ants returning from a wedding

bir düğünden dönen karıncalar

waved white towels at us

ve gördüklerim üzerindeki gücüm

and when I woke up

uyanırken

my power over what I had seen

puf birden yok oluyordu

poof, would suddenly disappear

seni seviyordum

I loved you

ama başkalarının

but was feeding on

yalnızlığından besleniyordum

the loneliness of others

*

*

hiçbir şey için

I don't blame you

seni suçlamıyorum

for anything

uzun yola çıkmadık daha bu yaz

we haven't taken a long trip yet this summer

rüyalarımı çabuk unutmaya başladım

I'm starting to forget my dreams quickly

tanrılar

the gods

dayamış ağızlarını yol başlarına

have planted their jaws at road ends

terimizi içiyorlar kahvaltıda

they drink our sweat at breakfast

ilginçtir kanımızı değil!

strangely, not our blood

( Translated by Aron Aji )

NIHAT ÖZDAL

Nihat ÖZDAL was born in Halfeti in 1984. He is a curator and surf coach. He has worked with visual poetry, and has installations exhibits that question the concepts of time and hope through various objects.

His

books

translated

Macedonian, Bulgarian,

Tatar

in

Russian,

(Crimean),

Bosnian,

Italian,

Croatian,

Ukrainian,

Uzbek,

Kurdish,

French,

Arabic,

Shonan,

Sesotho,

Syriac,

Afrikaans,

Setswana,

Sepedi,

Serbian, Armenian, Xitsonga,

Tshisvenda, IsiZulu, IsiXhosa ,Isi Ndebele and Siswati languages.

Books: 2011

Poetry:

Homeros

Google’den Poetry

Önce

Awards,

(2015), and Deri (2017).

(2010

Worthy

–Mehmet of

praise),

Fuat

Young

Kanat

Poetry

İzleri

Awards

(2012),

and

Düğmeler

33°55'09.3"N 8°08'50.2"E

Varoluş çayırlardır.

Oysa sesinde dönüşen yönleri, ağaç sanmıştım.

Yanıma,

dönmeyeceğimi

sanarak

vardığım

bir

uzaklık

aldım.

Altı

beni

parçalarımdan

taşıran,

sende dudaklarını ısıran bir masal var. Kendini öne süren, geri çekilen, olmayan. Kahramanları erken ölen masallarda gemilerin suçu olmaz. Herkes bir şeyler kaybeder, görüntüyü biçmekten çok göze almakla ilgilenir yürümek. Ayakkabılarını kaybetmedin, onlar yola koyulmak istemediler.

Bazen nasılsa dersin, nasılsa üzgün, nasılsa dünya, nasıllar ayakların?

Ben rastlantıyla şahin avcısı oldum. Kanadın görünüşünü değiştiren karşılaşmalardır. Masanın üstünde kına ve fal tortuları. Yeniden başlayabilir miyiz hurma çekirdekleri toplamaya?

Bu sadece birimizin gitmesi için yeterli olacak…

33°55'09.3"N 8°08'50.2"E

Existence is fields.

Whereas I had thought trees those paths that turned in your voice.

I took a distance that I attained when I thought you were not returning, to me. There is a fairy tale whose base makes my pieces flood, making you bite your lips. That which asserts itself, recedes, is not. In stories whose heroes die young, ships are free of blame. Everyone loses something, moving forward is more concerned about taking chances rather than reaping images. You did not lose your shoes, they did not want to hit the road. Sometimes you say somehow, somehow glum, somehow world, how are your feet doing?

I became a hawk hunter by chance. What changes the apearance of a wing are encounters.

Residues of henna and fortune tellings on the table. Can we start picking the stones of date palms again?

This will suffice so that one of us leaves...

( Trasnlated by Pelin Batu )

Denizkestanelerinin Ölümü

Aniden gelişen bir buğuyu olduğundan daha pembe göstermeye tutku denir.

Pek az şey olur. Alglerle beslenen denizkestanelerinin ölümü dahil!

Deriye yönelen güçlükleri meyve tohumlarıyla beslemek; güzelliğin çevresi gibi unutulması zor kuralları

var.

Şakayığın

kokusunu

içine

çekmekle

o

kokunun

içinde

kalmak!

Benliğin

ötesine

geçmek için bize güllerle beraber iki şey bırakıldı deri ve kuşku! Onları toplayarak daha hızlı yayılabiliriz.

Death of Sea Urchins

What we call desire is the endeavour to make pink a sudden formation of mist.

Few things become. Including the death of sea urchins that feed upon algae.

Feeding seeds of fruit to those difficulties that gravitate towards skin; like the sphere of beauty it has an arduous set of laws that is difficult to forsake. Taking in the perfume of a peony and staying

inside

that

perfume.

To

go

beyond

the

beyond

the

self

we

were

besides roses skin and doubt! We can spread swiftly if we pick them up.

( Translated by Pelin Batu )

left

with

two

things

ERKUT TOKMAN

Erkut Tokman is a Turkish poet, actor,visual artist,editor and translator was born in İstanbul in 1971. He used to live

and work respectively in London,Bucharest,Milan

İzmir and Istanbul where he studied poetry, modern dance and acting yet he currently lives in İstanbul. He used to work as editor for Yasakmeyve-literary review in Turkey and

Levure

Litteraire,

Artfulliving.com.tr

and

Kado,

Nathr

reviews

Tersdergi.com.

He

in

abroad

interviewed

and

Orhan

currently Pamuk,

works

Joyce

for

Carol

Oates, Adonis, Aslı Erdoğan,Knut odegard, Milo de Angelis,Slobodan Dan Paich etc.

He is the founder of AÇIK ŞİİR His

poems,

articles,

and

also

avangarde poetry movement based on performance.

short

stories

have

been

published

at

leading

literary

reviews of Turkey such as “Hürriyet Gösteri”, “Varlık”, “Kitap-lık”,“Yasakmeyve”, “Caz Kedisi”, “Akatalpa”, “Özgür Edebiyat”,“Ç.N” etc. since 1996. He took part in poetry anthologies and collective books in Turkey

as well as abroad and participated

literary events and festivals in different countries. He is the president of İntercultural Poetry and Translation Academy of Turkey (IPTAT) and the member of Turkish and İtaly P.E.N -WiPC (Writers in Prison Committee). He was on the advisory board of “Roboski” Human-right’s museum.

His poetry books : “Giden ve Kalan”-1999-Liman ( The Arrivals and Departures Liman Publishing House-1999), “Bilinmezi Dolaşan Ses”-2007-Yitik Ülke ( Strolling

X.

Kıyısında ıslak kumlarıyla Gel-git oynayan Thames

nereye doğru akar

Bulanık sularıyla?

Orada bir aktör, Genç bir çiftin Nehrin kıyısında koşmalarını, Bir köpeğin ta uzaklara fırlatılmış Kemiği yaklamak için Kendini suya atışını izler; İşte yaşam kendi güzelliğine akan Bir nehir gibidir şimdi; Sanki herşey yazılmış Bir filmin senaryosudur Hayattan alınma

Hitchcock gibi ben de kuşlardan Sanırım bu kötülükleri, Ah yanılgı bir sanrıdaki o yarasa sarnıçta uyuyan Başımıza zaten ne geliyorsa ah bu kuşlardan, Ah sizi gidi kargalar! Gagalar!

Uzatma burnunu bozulmasın aralar!

B,i,r de Edgar alan Poe Ölümün kıyısında bir Kuzgun gibi dolaşan Bir de Kuzguncuk’da Can Yücel Ağzı bozuk serkeş karanlığı söyler

X.*

Where Thames runs to While it is playing by its shores Ebb and flow Within its blurred waters?

Thereat an actor witnesses Lovers that run along the riverside A dog unleashes itself into waters While trying to catch by its mouth Thrown away bone. That’is how Life become a river flowing through its own beauty As if

a scenerio taken from a film

As in life.

Like Hitchcock I predict all those evils May be emerging from birds an error is a bat in delusion that sleeping in a cistern O whatsoever happens us

from those birds!

O, you rascal crows! Beaks!

Do not pry

wrecking the mood!

On the edge of death wandering like The Raven A,l,s,o Edgar Alan Poe Can Yücel in Kuzguncuk** as well As swearing and disobedient as he talks on darkness

**District on the shore of Bosphorus which comes from Kuzgun(Raven) in Turkish. Turkish poetCan Yücel often was resting and writing in the cafe of Kuzguncuk.

XIV.

Metronun tüp geçitlerinde Köşe başlarını Çalgıcılar kaplar; Günü kurtarmak için Penny* toplarlar Her ulustan Birleşmemiş milletlere

XIV.*

On the corners of Undergorund’s tunnels Buskers perform For a penny To save a day All World gets together For helping ununited nations

Yardım için We could not be united either as you know

Biz de birleşemedik biliyorsun Kendi içimizde bile yalnız Tanrı’nın yalnızlığıdır bu biliyorsun Dünya’nın ilk gününden beri Kendinden yoksun, Yoksun bu yüzden işte varken de Varırken de bir hedefe, Dönerken de bir kavşaktan, Atlarken de bir engelin üzerinden Tükenirken de yavaş yavaş yıllarla Ve ölürken de son nefesinde böyle olacak Toprağın altında ve Göklerin üzerinde Ebedi karanlık İnsanlığı sınayacak Günü yeniden kazanmak için Şehirlere döneceğiz yine

While we are

still all alone

As you know this is loneliness of God Since the very first day of World Once even God were not exsisted yet, Perhaps therefore you may exist or

not

While your are still reaching at your targets, Turning a junction , Jumping hurdles Running out by-gone years and ageing Evenif you take your last breath, all will be the same Under Earth Over sky While Eternal darkness Questions Humanity We will return back cities once again to save a day My darling!

Sevgilim! * Two of London Poems were originally written in 2000

and

author.

(

“Şehirlerle

revised

afterwards

Extracted Yanar

from

the

Dünya”/

and

translated

poet’s “The

book

cities

World”-Yasakmeyve poetry series-2017.)

(Poems trasnlated by Erkut Tokman himself)

by

the

called rekindle

ANIL CIHAN

Anıl Cihan was born in İstanbul in 1989. He attanded both primary and middle school in Küçükçekmece, İstanbul. In 2011 he graduated from the Department of Accounting in Uludağ University in Bursa. He now earns his living as a bookseller in İstanbul.

His first poems were published in the Şehir Edebiyat literary magazine. These were then followed by poems and interviews with various poets and writers in such Turkish journals as Varlık, Kitap-lık, Sözcükler, Şiirden, Şiiri Özlüyorum, Ecinniler, Mühür, Bireylikler, Hayal.

belki ben bu sabah güzel şeyler duymak istiyorum

şunu iyice anlamanı isterim ki ikinci dünya savaşına katılmayan bir ülke gibisin canımın içi sayıca yetersiz ve her an işgal edilme korkusu içinde olan

nevrimi kaza süsü vererek kırdığım bardaklara sorun yetmezse ellerime sorun herhangi bir kriz anında doların alıp başını gitmesine benziyordu yokluğun (gülmen için değil, gülümsemen için oluşturuldu bu dize) bir ülke nasıl düzelir hiç düşündün mü binnur yastık altında bekletilen hayaller ve argümanlar ne zaman sürülür piyasaya inanmazsın orta asya medeniyetin beşiği değil karın boşluğudur inanmazsın bir uçak ne zaman rötar yapsa sana benzeyen biri gelir aklıma

olgulara güvenen bir kalbim var, sanırım bunu daha önce de söyledim modernizmi meditasyon sanan bir kedim olsun istedim orhan gencebay dinlerken, kohen’e bilet bulmaya çalışan saksı çiçeklerim (kohen ölmemiş miydi yeaaa) katılıyorum yağmura yakalanmak büyük maharet ister, ıslanmaksa cesaret afrika’nın kurak bir kıta olduğunu söylüyor henüz almadığım stekhaus menüm

tekrar edildikçe anlamını yitiren bir şeye dönüşmek üzereyim asla ölmeyen, ölmesi teklif dahi edilemeyen bir dizi kahramanına dördüncü kadehten sonra tersinden yakılmış bir sigaranın bozulan adabına afrika’nın ıslanırken yağmura yakalanmayışına (ki bu bir maharettir ve anlamını yitirmiştir) yanlışınız var ben bu şiirde iki defa afrika demedim – deseydim boğulurdunuz susuzluktan-deseydim büyürdünüz açlıktan koloni latince bir kelimedir diyemedim ama konumuz bu değil, konumuz başka elimin tersi neyi gerektiriyorsa kırdım bütün bardakları nevrime seslendim lozan barış antlaşması! on yılda bir açık alınla çıktığımız klasik meydanlar! cumhuriyetin bilmem kaçıncı galaksi yüzyılı! bütün bunlar hassas olduğumuz noktalar, kabul

ama şunu da bilmeni isterim ki bu dünya artık koskoca bir toplama kampı canımın içi

perhaps I would like to hear some nice things this morning

i want you to understand this clearly my darling you are like a country that kept out of the second word war underpopulated, forever fearing invasion

ask the glass i broke and dressed up as an accident about the colour of my face if that doesn’t suffice, ask my hands, but be sure they won’t give a damn about you your absence was like the dollar as it absconded every time a crisis broke out (this line was forged not for your laugh, but for your smile)

so can a country really be reformed, have you ever considered that binnur when will the dreams and arguments stored under pillows be launched onto the market you won’t believe it central asia’s not the cradle of civilization but a pain in the guts you won’t believe it whenever a plane is late some one like you comes to mind

i have a heart that believes in the facts i think i have said this before i always wanted a cat that mistook modernism for meditation my potted plants’re trying find a ticket for cohen while listening to orhan gencebay (mannnn didn’t cohen die or what?) i agree that getting caught in the rain demands great skill and crying, great bravery the menu i have yet to receive in the steak house says africa is an arid continent

i am about to turn into something that loses its meaning the more it’s repeated a tv soap hero who never dies, whose death they never even consider the poise of a cigarette lit from the wrong side after downing the fourth glass or africa as it’s not caught in the rain but still getting soaked (that too’s a skill but it’s lost its meaning) you’re mistaken i didn’t say africa twice in this poem – if i had you’d have died of thirst, you’d have grown from hunger i could not bring myself to say that ‘colony’ is a latin word but this is not the matter at hand, that is something else entirely what ever the back of my hand needed –i smashed all the glasses calling out to the colour of my face the lausanne peace treaty! the classical squares we sauntered into this decade, our foreheads bared but in whichever cosmic year of the republic, I dunno; all of these are sensitive issues for us, agreed.

i want you to understand this clearly this world is now a huge concentration camp,my one and only.

(Translated by Neil

P.Doherty)

beni nasıl bilirdiniz

çünkü bir mezara çiçek olmaya gidiyorum beni nasıl bilirdiniz

:doğmuş ve doğrulmuş olarak ekmek fırınlarını basan uğur dündar gibi başka nasıl olabilirdi -

aksiyonu bol romantizmi zirve tadında ama iyi bilirdik değil asla

toprakla karşı karşıya kalınan net pozisyonlarda gözyaşını zorlama al da at dercesine savurma – ağlama herkes en az bir defa ölü takliti yapabilir ardımdan #kamboçya #haiti #somali #ruanda

dekoratif güzellik – sömürge sanatı –koltuk rengimizle uyumlu kan gurubu bunlardan bir tane de eve almalıyız balıımmm yaz bir kenera öyle ya bir mezera nasıl çiçek olunur kimseden öğrenecek değiliz soruyorum sana bilim dünyasında büyük tartışmalara yol açan gördüğün her su birikintisini lastik bir asa ile ikiye bölme kudretini kim bahşetti ruhuna – en çok beni anla ben yani orta doğu ’ya bakan içkisi kumarı sigarası olmayan dini bütün pembe panjurlu bir koca ideal mal sahibi beyaz gömleğin altında bembeyaz bir fanila sırılsıklam ama mutlu bir gelecek hayal ediyorum ikimiz için tabii canıımm hiç bilmez olur muyum: bu alemde önce sen sonra son sürat musa

ekranların reyting rekorları kıran dizisi bu topraklara kralım ve ülkem adına el koyuyorum yepyeni bölümleriyle çok yakında oturma odanızda hem teknoloji çok gelişti tazmanya aslında ispanya dünya kupasında final oynamasa – ender gelişen aztek atakları golle sonuçlansa – evet hala iknalardan yanayım sevgilim bir sorun mu var: yaratılan infial süsü: üstü örtülen katliam yok olmanın eşiğinde seni şüpheye düşüren her ne ise bak o konuda haklısın biz de basit goller yedik tazmanya ama ispanya oynadığı o kötü futbolla kupayı hiç hak etmedi sahi metroya binmeden önce sıraya girip medeni görünmeyi japonlardan mı öğrendik trugani*

kalbim kundaklanmaya hazır bir orman gibi duruyor yeni dikilecek binalar için ve ben bir mezara çiçek olmaya gidiyorum hadi söyleyin nasıl bilirdiniz kendinizi

*Son

Tazmanyalıların

cesetlerine

antropologlar

ve

sanat

galericileri

tarafından

bilim

adına

el

konuldu. Tazmanya müzesi son Tazmanya yerlisi olan Trugani’nin iskeletinin gömülmesine ancak 1976’da, Trugani öldükten yüz yıl sonra izin verd

how did you know me?

‘cause I’m am off to be a flower on a grave, how did you know me?

: like some born and risen Uğur Dündar raiding all the bakeries how could it be otherwise- lots of action and the headiest dose of the romantic we knew you to be good but not really

in those clear positions when left face to face with the soil don’t force your tears or scattter them saying take these, throw them away-just don’t cry

Everyone can feign death at least once after I go #cambodia

#haiti

#somalia

#rwanda

decorative beauty_ the art of colonialism- a blood group that matches our sofa set we should get one of those for the house loveeee write that down somewhere yeah like we are not going to learn from anyone how to be a flower on a grave I am asking who bestowed on your soul that power you have, that has led to fierce debates within the scientific community, of being able to split every puddle you come across in two with an elastic wand – unnderstand me the most, me a pious husband devoid of booze, gambling and cigarettes complete with pink blinds the ideal houseowner a brilliant white vest underneath a white shirt i am imaging a sopping wet but entirely happy future for us both

-

of course my love, how could I not know: in this world there is you first

then flat out moses.

the tv series that has broken every screen rating record i am king of these lands and in the name of my country i am seizing them soon back with new episodes in your

sitting rooms

how

technology has developed, tasmania really if spain don’t manage to play in the world cup final- if the rare aztec attacks do actually result in a goal- yes i am still all for persuasion

my love is there some problem: the invented air of indignation; the hushed up slaughter; whatever it is that drags you into suspicion here on the edge of oblivion look in that, you’re right, we conceded some soft goals, tasmania but spain didn’t deserve the cup playing that bad football was it really from the japanese that we learnt to form orderly queues outside the metro just so we’d look civilized trugani*?

my heart is a like a forest waiting to be set on fire so they can erect new buildings on it

and I am off to be a flower on a grave now go on say it, how did you know yourselves?

* The corpses of the last Tasmanians were seized by anthropologists and art galleries in the name of science. The Museuem of Tasmania allowed the corpse of Trugani to be buried in 1976, 100 years after he died.

Bionotes of the translators

Nazım

Hikmet

in

Aron Aji is the director of the MFA in Literary

Leeds, England, in 1973. He graduated from the

Translation Program at the University of Iowa. A

Department

translator

from

the

and completed his MA in Continental Philosophy

works

Bilge

Karasu,

at the University of Warwick. He has translated,

Ferid

among

Literary

of

Dikbaş

Sociology

others,

Flannery

Richard

works

at

of

O'Connor

was

Istanbul

Vladimir

into

born

University,

Nabokov

Turkish,

and

and

Orhan

by

Edgu,

among

Translation

Turkish,

he

has

Murathan

others.

Aji

translated

Mungan

received

Fellowships

in

2006

and

NEA and

2016, and a National Translation Award in 2004

Pamuk and Hrant Dink into English. Since 2007, he

has

taught

at

Communication Management

the

Departments

Design

at

and

Istanbul

Art

Bilgi

of

and

Visual Cultural

University

and

currently teaches the course "Art and Dissidence" at

the

Cultural

Management

Postgraduate

Program. He lives and works in Istanbul.

Saliha

Paker

retired

in

2008

as

a

Professor

of

Claire Ölmez originally

comes

from

Bristol

in

Translation Studies in Boğaziçi University, where

the UK. Based on the Aegean coast of Turkey,

she still teaches a course in the PhD Programme

she

and continues her research in translation history of

proofreader and traveler. Her life is conducted in

Ottoman period. Since 1980s, she has pioneered in

Turkish and English and she is a keen translator

bringing three novels of Latife Tekin, the poems

of Turkish literature.

of Enis Batur, Gülten Akın, Behçet Necatigil and Haydar

Ergülen

translation; Workshop she

she for

to

English

founded

the

Translators

participated

as

a

of

Cunda in

joint

International

Turkish

translator

meetings held in 2006-2016.

through

Literature; the

annual

lives

as

an

international

educator,

Due to her father İnal Batu's career as a diplomat, Pelin

Batu

countries

was

born

in

1968.

He

has

translated various works by authors such as Sir

James

Frazer,

Woody

Allen,

Susan

Sontag, Ruth Rendell, John Stuart Mill, J.D. Salinger, Roald Dahl and Ursula K. LeGuin, and exhibition catalogues for many Turkish art galleries. He lives in Istanbul."

France

school

City and Cem Akas

her

childhood

including

Republic, high

spent

at

at Mannes

Pakistan,

and

the

of

foreign

Cyprus,

Czech

She

School

musical

College

many

USA.

Marymount

pursued

in

and

completed

in New

York

theatre

training

After

starting

Music.

literature and philosophy at New York University, she switched her subject to history and completed it at Boğaziçi University in Istanbul. She made her film

debut

in

1999,

portraying

the

role

of

Circassian Nevres in Harem Suare and has gone on to

act

Batu's

with

several

mother

Nevra

more

films

Batu

is

and

TV

series.

of Albanian descent.

[2][3] Batu

also

co-hosted

Odası (The

Back

a

show

Room

of

titled Tarihin

History)

Arka

which

aired

on HaberTürk with Murat

Bardakçı and Erhan

Afyoncu.

from

she

has

poems.

Interested written,

Her

published

in

in

poetry

translated,

first

book

2003,

of

and by

young

published

poetry

followed

a

many

"Glass"

"The

age, was

Book

of

Winds" in 2009. She left the program in 2011. She has also appeared on the Turkish TV program Yeni Şeyler

Söylemek

Lazım,

a

part

of

the TRT Haber news channel on 25 December 2010, in

which

Stones"

she

read

herself

her

from

poem her

of

"Wind

book.

of

Having

Black

written

poems from the age of eight, on this program she said

that

even

reincarnation

though existed

she she

is

an

atheist,

would

be

if the

reincarnation of the grandfather, Selahattin Batu, as he was also known for his interest in poetry and Dr Alev Adil has been widely published in

whom

she

poetry

also

columnist

anthologies,

international

academic

and literary journals. Adil has reviewed for many

publications

including

Times Literary

a

is

commonly for

the

compared

to.

Batu

was

daily Milliyet newspaper

(2012–2014).[4]

The

Supplement, The

Independent, The Guardian and The Financial Times . Her poetry has been translated into Albanian, Azeri, French, Greek, Lithuanian,

Neil P. Doherty

Romanian

is

her

and

poetry

venues

in

at

Turkish. many

London

She

has

performed

prestigious

including

at

cultural

the

British

a

born

translator in

Ireland

Dublin, in

1972

Hampstead

who has resided

Theatre and at international poetry festivals

in Istanbul since

in

1995.

Musuem,

the

ICA

Cyprus,

and

France,

the

Ireland,

Kossovo,

He

Lithuania, Romania, Turkey and the United

currently

Kingdom.

teaches

Her

art

work

and

multimedia

in

performances have been featured in various

University.

publications

is

and

exhibited

in

museums

a

translator

of Art.

both

& The Archive of Lost Objects (2011)

He

freelance

including Tate Britain ve Baltimore Museum Poetry Books : Venus Infers (2004)

Bilgi

of

Turkish

and Irish poetry.

İdil Karacadağ is a freelance translator

Mark

from Istanbul, Turkey. She has translated

California.

various

the University of Tampa in Florida and his MA in

works

of

contemporary

Turkish

David

literature into English and participated at

Turkish

the

Since

Cunda

International

Translators between

of

Workshop

Turkish

2010-2015.

for

Literature

Her

translations

Wyers

He

completed

Studies

2013

was

he

at

the

has

born

his

BA

and in

literature

University

been

raised

of

in at

Arizona.

translating

Turkish

literature into English as a freelance translator. He has

translated

numerous

novels,

and

his

have appeared in Turkish Poetry Today,

translations of Turkish short stories have appeared

Two

in

Lines,

Aeolian

Visions/Versions,

and Pomegranate Garden.

has

held

Writers His

İstanbul

Los

fellowships

and

boks

and

Black

and

Angeles.

from

Poets

Mountain

chapbooks

are

He &

Institute.

A

Turkish

Dictioanry( 1913 Press) and From Being Without press).

Substance

Semi

Circle,

( a

above/ground

chapbook

of

his

translations of the Turkish poet Nurduran Duman, was published by Goodmorning Menagerie.

His

poems

and

translations

can be found in VOLT, Kenyon Review, Witness,

Tammy

Journal,

collections,

journals

and

magazines

published in the US and UK.

Andrew Wessels currently splits his time between

various

Faultline,

Colorado Review, among others.

and

Özgün Eylem Aktaş was born in Ankara in Turkey 1995.

She

studied

İnternational

Relations

at

Universty of Akdeniz in Antalya. She is currently starting her master degree at Universty of Paris on Contemporary

Societies

and

French, English and Turkısh.

doing

translation

to

Visual Arts FEATURED ARTIST : AHMET YESIL

Ahmet painters

Yesil Nuri

(1954) Abaç,

lives

and

İlhan

works

Çevik

in

and

Mersin, Ernür

Turkey.

Tüzün

He

from

studied

painting

Anadolu

with

University

Department of Sociology. In addition to art exhibitions in Turkey, he has paintings in important foreign exhibitions mainly in Germany, America, Canada, Netherlands, and United Kingdom. Ahmet Yeşil is a member of the UNICEF International Association of Plastic Arts. So far, he works have been dispalyed in 105 solo exhibitions and 297 group/contest exhibitions. He has received 24 national and international awards.

yaşama dokunmak.2.

insan ve renkler..100x90.cm. tüyb.galeri

160x120.t.ü.y.b.. oil on

soyut.2020

canvas..2019

tarihsiz günlükler.27.undated

Sesler ve İzler - Sounds and marks

7.

diarles..100x85.cm.2015.. oil on

2019. T.Ü.Y.B. Oil on canvas. 85x65

canvas...jpg

cm

Sesler ve İzler - Sounds and marks

6.

2019. T.Ü.Y.B. - Oil on canvas.

küçük mutluluklar üzerine..160x120.cm

90x70.cm

sesler ve izler. 3..2018....85x100..cm.

sounds& marks --sesler ve izler.2..

t.ü.y.b.

2017...160X120.cm.. TUVAL ÜZERİNE KARIŞIK TEKNİK.

sounds& marks..110x100.cm...2016..oil on canvas

Yeşile Gebe Mavi-Green Pregnant

tarihsiz günlükler.5.undated

Blue. 2018. T.Ü.Y.B. - Oil on

diarles..2015.....120x100.cm.t.ü.yb. oil on

canvas. 150x100.cm

canvas

Vol 4- Issue 2

ADVAITAM SPEAKS LITERARY