|
DO NOT TOUCH THE FLOWERS
that they may grow
So that they may cling
to the roots of time
and know the deep places
of life,
arrive
at a poetic view...
Otherwise
the noise
and heaps of earth
puts them ill at ease
and these are not
their only doubts...
They do not have the means
to resist agressive insects.
Their vibrations hide
their identities,
and their movements
their virtue.
Feeling their friendship
offers a sign...
It is their place
to be beautiful and significant.
These are not toys
for the passions.
Do not touch the flowers
that they may grow.
by Uzeyir Lokman
CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
THE DAY IS BORN OF NIGHT
In the same places crocodiles frequent
Peacocks are also found to live.
Red poppies are strewn
About the forest paths.
The sun is born
in our dreams.
Poetic reflections
Of stars
Never flare out.
All our accumulated joys
always stay with us, within sustained.
At its own inimitable level
The warmth of our relationships spreads out.
Tiffs arising out of introversion
Have no place in our lives.
Friendships,
Multifaceted like diamonds,
Shine over the Nations' borders.
All that is beautiful breathes.
Our own Age's worth is on the mend.
Let's not waste our time talking in
Hypothetical riddles
Every place is distinct, and
we should not confuse it with another.
We can overcome the nuances of differences.
We run the race
By effacing doubts
In our thoughts.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Mantes la Ville - Le 05.04.2001
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Richard VALLANCE, 2002
ISTANBUL OF MY DREAMS
Your expectations are engraved in my eyes.
The forms found in my dreams
and the face one sees in your photographs
does not reveal feelings.
To be separated does not impact the seas;
it is in your landscapes expectations are strained.
Thoughts do not remain in place.
Istanbul poses like a seal on my loneliness.
The white fish live in your past,
gulls stroll in your memories.
Friendships grind watchful until morning.
Anatolia rises from your horizons Istanbul.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
THE CRADLE'S DREGS
There was a time
we searched for love and beauty.
We no longer have that passion.
We no longer think
or sing, or dance
in the peaks.
Since that time
we are children
not of darkness
but of light.
We know
that the wind does not always blow
from the same side,
that dark clouds
are not only for us.
There was a time
we searched for love and beauty.
There was within us
brotherhood and humanity
and a limpid world outside.
Since that time
we are children
not of darkness
but of light.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
THE CELL
In observing an end
to painful memories knotting
in your eyes
hopes remain suspended, one on one.
Your hands can reach
my hands.
You will have infinite sorrow,
your clear nights woven
into your dreams;
the purest of your hopes will exhaust you
in a most dreadful darkness.
This darkness
will be turbulent with thought
in a cell
thousands of kilometers far away,
and your eyes can reach
my eyes.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
THE THOUGHT OF SAYING GOOD DAY
does not enter their minds
While the principles
of good will
may be found,
passions impose themselves
and blind them to humanity.
Racism becomes a canvas
of relationships
and coexistence wrinkles.
The thought of saying good day
does not enter their minds.
The doors close,
transparency disappears
on their compasses.
In their profiles
one sees
the rudeness,
opportunism
in the foreground.
Good will
and the spirit of comraderie
remain distant.
The thought of saying good day
does not enter their minds.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
HALIL IBRAHIM GÖCEK
His mother:
"You are my flower" she said.
It is from Yozgat
that he came to France.
He brought love and hope
into his new space,
with nostalgia
He deep mined for years,
breathed coal dust,
took his fatigue home.
His children
waited for him
before the windows.
At Forbach
one day
bad news arrived at his house.
Halil Ibrahim Gocek
had died in a passageway
in the mine.
Tears
joined with cries.
Love for him
was felt all around.
His memories
have been sent here and there;
under the coals
they burn,
becoming cinders
like him
His mother:
"You are my flower" she said.
It is from France
that he departed for Yozgat.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2002
KAROL ZÜMER
There were flowers
when I knew him
at Magnanville
on Graviers...
In his office
he was the echo of beauty,
the mirror
of friendship...
At painting exhibitions
at Lardy,
at Elancourt,
combining his art
and his administrative talent,
he united
persons, one with another.
He had several odd habits,
like the way he came to work
with a very tidy vehicle.
But his feelings were clear,
his bearing natural.
He was exemplary.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
GIVING FORM TO TOMORROW
They melt
in the table of multiplication
all growing
in the absence of feeling
One does not notice
the differences
in mirrors...
They
they are nailed down
to solitude.
One does not notice
the seasons
in their domain...
The years
rot
in their own eyes
for them...
The revolt
is not the result
of final moments
in their alphabet,
it is a way
of abuse.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
MY TEACHER
Superannuated children
At the tether of insensitivity,
These are your work -
Born of selfishness,
Each generation slips away
Further and further.
From every sideways glance
Aimed at revolt
Fleas give birth to dragons
And they do it from the underside
Of workbenches only partially covered with tablecloths.
The month of September in their eyes
Piles their up their hatreds day in and day out,
An anteroom for opportunists
A shelter annihilating love
And -
A prop
For confidence,
Whose opposite face falls into a ravine.
My teacher,
Before the wellspring
of your values dries up...
Draw near, and you'll see the capillary vessles
Of youth.
Draw near,
Before the last vestiges of your sensibilities
Are snuffed out, scattered by the winds of Time.
Oh, I know,
No matter what you plea,
Your inner Tribunal doesn't leave you free
So long as tomorrow drops suffering into your lap.
Events fall out on your right,
Secrets shake you up on your left
The source of worrying
Is in every tomorrow
Looming inside you...
Your accomplishments, my dear teacher,
Only see you
They can't see themselves!...
Üzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Paris - Le 30.04.2001
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Richard Vallance, 2002
THE WORLD IN A BOTTLE *
Some offal in a bottle
Eyes are as transparent
As glass
They wander off down
Like spiders
To the bottom of it
Until mired in hatred right up to your knees
Its no door
More like a cover covering love up
His path all coiled up didn't seem to lead
anywhere really
All on his own
He managed to scare
Roses as they were growing
In old Lowertown
Noisy trucks
Men armed with pistols
Looking so bourgeois
Fear's an obsession
In the eyes of a famished bird
Love is some torture
On Earth
Time is like
fear melting at the table;
Justice is all bleary-eyed
Equality's an artificial rose
In the hands of a wretched soul
Fraternity's some empty dream
To anyone who's poor
The legend of obscurity
Your hands are bloody now, from digging in
The fire's seismic activity
And tears are what matter's most of all
In matters of justice
Some offal in a bottle
Eyes are as transparent
As glass
They wander off down
Like spiders
To the bottom of it.
(*) Literally: jar
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Mantes la Ville, le 15.05.2001
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Richard Vallance, © 2003, June, 2003
BEFORE THE EYES OF ALL
A wolf whistle has snared your longing,
your pride has burned
into a young man's roots,
deceiving your mutual hopes
and your thoughts,
like handkerchiefs of stone,
have fallen from the bridges.
In your own dazzled eyes
colors are not repressable
but you have packed the sun
into compartments.
While the sword plays
darkly in the dazzle,
your stories open the arms of slavery.
A wolf whistle has snared your longing,
your pride has burned
into a young man's roots.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
LOVE BOTH OF THE CHILDREN
Time passes quickly
in many ways today
like yesterday.
Think of days to follow
so that sorrow
does not invade your world.
Work, try hard
to develop before men.
So that doubts
do not carry you off,
love the teacher
who showed you the way...
as your mother did,
and your brother.
So that friendship rules
your life, and you have
love's password,
love both of the children.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Magnanville - 02.02.2001
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2004
CHILDREN OF SORROW
They were fearful of fires
and timid before friendship.
They changed truth
in consideration of their interests.
They were not accustomed
to such things as love and friendship,
consequently they attached no importance
to courage or to speaking honestly.
Games are formed by taking part...
sales were arranged, and arrests,
due to lack of affection,
and made an integral part
of their peculiarities.
Every year in March
absurdities from the past
flow from their heart of hearts
while they clink glasses.
As sins committed were taken lightly,
one after the other faults
were left hanging
and in time became a shelter
or an obscure tunnel,
hiding wrong doing
as they wished.
Thus the years
fell down on them...
The children of sorrow
never awakened to beauty.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Magnanville - 03.03.2001
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2004
REUNIONS
I was down with fatigue
on a chair
my foot broken,
tossed onto a chair - tossed
and thrown into the depths.
Rain fell outside.
My hopes were surrounded
by a rainbow
as though a mommy were crying
before a window, murmuring
"my little one...my little one..."
The hours advanced, non-stop
towards the setting of the sun.
A cold wind rose
after the rain...
a naked foot
I opened the door
to hold the hands
outstreched to me.
Our arms join
after eight nostalgic years,
one, two, three, four people
are suddenly crying, and me,
I laugh with joy.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2004
THE TRIANGLE OF EXISTENCE
Yes, they and I,
We are at the corners
Of the triangle of existence...
I am the poorest of all
all naked...
I have walked in their midst,
And penetrated their sufferings.
The butterflies
Have fluttered down and all around me...
To help me grow up
By resting on my roses...
At moments like this
I've breathed so deeply in
The tears I've gazed upon
Flowing from the eyes of the future.
They gave me this name, "nostalgia",
Rooting out of my essence
Violet flowered thoughts
Made to resemble the rose.
How my hesitant steps
Have brought me to their happiness
But this was not enough
They were tear-stained by the way I looked
At them as they tendered their lips
To my cheeks.
They have offered insomnia
Unto me to have me say, "oh... my parents",
Thus building bridges
In their hearts.
They and I, yes,
We are at the corners
Of the triangle of existence...
I am the poorest of all
all naked...
I have walked in their midst,
And penetrated into their sufferings.
Üzeyir Lokman Çayci
Paris, 14.11.2003
Translated into English by Richard Vallance,
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada © 29.03.2004
IF THERE IS NOT LOVE
Obstacles before you
detours behind
in the name of nothing at all.
Coming and going for 20 years
certain things do not change.
Love
is a final act
a make good
a remedy
for all evil.
If men
do not love one another
certain things do not change.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2002
WHERE THE LILIES GROW
Where the lilies grow
there are also insects;
a moment vanishes
from memory.
The world is like this
- the one dies,
the other is born.
Where the lilies grow
there are also insects.
Many things
remain in the depths
where flaws are not noticed.
Most of the time
writers, designers
teachers
do not discover the truth.
Where the lilies grow
there are also insects.
The world is like this
- the one dies,
the other is born.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2002
THE REASONING OF THE CROW
One asks a crow,
"When is the wedding to be performed?"
He replies:
"At the barley harvest..."
Still one asks:
"Very well, until that moment
what do you think of doing?"
He answers,
"Knock over the scarecrows..."
One laughs, asking "Why?"
After reflecting a moment
the crow replies:
"There is no difference
Between certain people and scarecrows."
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2002
THE CUL-DE-CAS OF THE ROSE
Grief will invade your dreams.
Listen to the ocean
for all that you would see.
Remember blue fields
fulfilled by the sun
while sorrow sleeps.
Hand in hand
nights bring fish.
Your eyes soak up the sky,
you cannot endure
the murmur of disappearance
in the cul-de-sac of the Rose.
Poems there will be silenced,
the songs will make you cry,
glass will break in your hands.
You cannot think,
and then you know
you are able no longer to see me
in the cul-de-sac of the Rose.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2002
THE VALLEY OF THE CULPRITS
In the valley of the culprits
be patient.
Remain planted on your legs
to be struck
by the newcomers and leaving them
never look behind you,
so that each one can see
the hairstyle on the nape of your neck.
In the valley of the culprits
while insults fuse
do not say anything, especially
make like the nightingale which ate a blackberry
while the human one depreciates.
The bump at the end of your nose
must not have an impact on your spirit.
Know that your language burns if you eat while pricking
and your backyard burns if you speak bitterly.
Above all
forget your mother, and your father.
It is not necessary to worry about their fate
or that they are weakened physically
and drag themselves along.
Do not say anything.
Drop...
Let your efforts break down.
Let the mast be reversed...
Carry on your way simpering.
If you see a fallen friend
above all have no feeling
no pity
and if you have envy, give him another kick.
Do you know that nobody is thinking of you at this moment?
If you come across a large turkey
cut its throat without saying anything to anybody
and eat it!
Have no panic, remain still
where you are well hidden!
In any event
You are in the valley of the culprits.
You will be viewed badly if you work much.
You will be driven out if you speak the truth.
You will be crushed
if you go the way of love.
You will be beaten in various ways
if you resist tyranny.
You know
that there are things not to be neglected.
In any event
you are in the valley of the culprits
Be pitiless!
You know that integration is spoken about uniquely,
that at least your indentity card is like theirs.
One demands it from you insistently.
If in spite of all you do not like
all that I have just said
do what you want, act according to your desires
as well as your accomplishments.
One never knows
Perhaps you will be accepted!
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Paris - 04.11.2004
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 05.12.2004
THE CHILDREN OF MIDNIGHT
Memory of war is silenced in them
and there is a tiredness in their knees,
the children of midnight kneel before the sun...
this only one
of the many thousand sorrows
covering their eyes
as if they were thirsty for a drop
of the moon's light
The children of midnight
walk fallen in the dark,
resembling the sky
I cannot leave these sensitive, indifferent ones
I still do not know, after how many years?
I re-examine them
and they still cry,
these children of midnight
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick, 2004
|
|
|
|
|
THE MARKETPLACE STILL
ATTACHES YOUR FOOL TO MONEY
One does not sell
broken pottery,
look for profitable business.
A hump on her back
your wife Zâra
beats the wool
Let your hungry children
and your animals that wait for fodder
not cause you to brood;
the marketplace is always there
attaching your soul to money.
You sell your merchandise,
you make money,
you will not go to Nigde...
You remain without hope
in the marketplace.
Your customers hearing your voice
say "Halil is still here..."
Sell your apples
snatched from their branches
hope they are all eaten;
the marketplace is still there
attaching your soul to money.
You sell your merchandise,
you make money,
you will never go to Nigde...
Let indifference
not change you,
the shenanigans
and acrobatics
of all sorts -
let all that
from one direction
not tire your mind.
The marketplace is always there
attaching your soul to money.
You sell your merchandise,
you make money,
you will never go to Nigde...
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
NDTR: Nigde is a prefecture of Turkey
and Bor is a sub-prefecture of Nigde.
THOSE WERE THE DAYS
Once upon a time
I was seated under an oak
Doing a little homework.
Down came the sun through its branches
And on my books its rays fell
An awful hot wind was blowing...
And afterwards as it passed
There came its illusions, their whites
Reaching out for my eyes
Beneath the oak tree
In the midst of the silence of the fields
I was refreshed by the sight
Of far away mountains
All snow-covered, so far away
My thoughts lay down, stretched out
Amidst the clover
And every single time the storks came in to land
I felt overjoyed...and wept.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Richard Vallance , 2002
HAD THIS TREE BUT ONE LONELY BRANCH
Had this tree but one lonely branch
That leaning over just reached out
For the thoughts of those who love...
We surely would have come to love to taste its fruit
So I never get enough of it even from my window.
You see, its leaves will never fall
On Earth's blind shoulders,
Instead it just keeps growing, growing up
Into the arms of the wind
Had this tree but one lonely branch,
It would pierce straight on through to skies so blue
And tender stars to silence
And disobey the wind.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Richard Vallance , 2002
ISKENDER
Iskender was a model
For telling time
And people...
You know, like gray night clouds
Through which moonlight filters.
Iskender
Was alone,
He had no one...
They had no love
In their hearts...
They used them to fan themselves
From the desert heat...
For fear of unmoving targets
They never
got to know
Iskender...
Ever since that day
I keep thinking about Iskender...
Ever since that day
I keep thinking about Iskender...
For them Iskender
Was merely a dream...
But inside of me he just kept growing...
Iskender was a model
For telling time
And people.
You know, like gray night clouds
Through which moonlight filters.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Richard Vallance , 2002
APRICOT TREES
The apricot trees
My father planted
Never got a chance to grow...
His only hope...
For years and years he'd given it his all...
Tried everything he could,
Busted his head
Trying to make them grow...
Every now and then
He'd observe the clouds...
Still,
All those years he lost
Wound up secrets in his heart...
The earth bared
All its veins, one by one...
A leaf dropped,
A branch broke
And made a noise...
But they
Never said a thing.
The apricot trees
My Father planted
Never got a chance to grow...
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Richard Vallance
2002
DON'T LET PAGES FULL OF POEMS
DROP FROM YOUR HANDS
As dusk fell one evening
I felt your existence
For the very first time
These pages full of poems
Had dropped from your hands.
A gust had carried them off
I ran and chased after them.
It's almost as if your feelings
Were flying at me at breakneck speed
All the time I was running, running with the wind
In the evening as it deepened...
In you, in me as well there's a photo
Of us when we were there
The memory I still have of it
And of my feelings poured out in poems.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Richard Vallance
2002
WHILE WATERS FLOW TOWARD IT FULL
Full upside down
Time makes tears flow.
To your expectations!
Who leaves
and leaves
roses behind them?
Many colors disappear
one after another
in this unlimited spring
full of pleasures.
In books without titles
the subjects are sinister,
such commercial dishonesty
assassins of feelings,
enemies of love.
In towns
flowers water the roses,
remain in the shade
of polluted air.
Full.
Full upside down
Time makes tears flow.
To your expectations!
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
EVERY TIME I LIFT MY EYES [1]
Every time I lift my eyes
Towards the sky...
The birds come in their flight to mind...
Festivities
Weddings cross my mind...
My hands seem
To be reaching out
For roses
Or even the honey of bees...
Every time I lift my eyes
Towards the sky...
The roses fade
And my eyes dissolve in my soul's own tears.
I keep a lookout for the past
in deserted streets...
Trailers, country
rides cross my memory
My hands seem to want
To reach out
For a sunflower's eye [2]
Or even a willow's bough...
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Translated from Turkish to French by Yakup Yurt
(followed by English translation
by Richard VALLANCE)
WHITE ROSES
Sorrows clash
in white roses;
in nocturnal obscurity
water flows noisily,
mirrors transform into a sea.
Her color extends in the flow,
the earth whitens at her approach;
the shepherd's star shatters
and darknesses fall silent
I cannot tear them from myself
for she bonded with me in dying;
the waters flow noisily,
the mirrors transform into a sea.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
FRIEND, YOU'RE NOT THE GUILTY ONE
Friend, you're not the guilty one
The guilty ones are the evenings
See how they drag you down into this obscurity...
Trouble not yourself
Everyday's "Love's Labour Lost"
Vanishes away
Your eyes have learned
The meaning of love anyway
Learn how not to remember
Every point of suffering.
Remember not those eyes, those eyes
Have gone and they've enticed you into smoky cafés
Don't go and believe
your eyes, they're just not
as sharp as they used to be
Friend, because you aren't the guilty one,
The guilty ones are hopes
Leaving you to the shadows.
So what's the use of fussing
If they've never understood
The poems your own baggy eyes
Have forgotten? ...
You're alone in an unknown beyond
Your eyes are alone as well ...
You're not guilty, friend
The guilty ones are hopes
Leaving you alone in darkness.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Translated from Turkish to French by Yakup Yurt
(followed by English translation
by Richard VALLANCE)
IF THERE IS NOT LOVE
Obstacles before you
detours behind
in the name of nothing at all.
Coming and going for 20 years
certain things do not change.
Love
is a final act
a make good
a remedy
for all evil.
If men
do not love one another
certain things do not change.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
THEY HAVE WOVEN A NET AROUND US
A feeling of nearness to suffering
In our hearts
While we reduce the dimensions
Of the essence of light
With our eyes
In a local scuffle
Them
They have woven a net around us.
Bearing the pains of life
While watching the people with sullen faces
And tired thoughts
All along the years
We have heard the whistle of whips...
With well-concealed thoughts
Those
Never thought of us
And... without any mercy
Have woven a net around us.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by F.J. Bergmann - 2002
SHABING TOMORROWS
They are sinking
In the multiplication tables
While growing older
In a lack of emotional resources...
The differences
Are unnoticeable
In mirrors...
These
They are nailed
To loneliness.
The seasons
Are unnoticeable in their hearts...
The years
Rotting
In their eyes
To them...
The revolution
Is not the result
Of the last few minutes
In their alphabet
There is a path
To curses.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by F.J. Bergmann., 2002
ISTANBUL
The dock birds
pull me to the sea
like I am pulled to suffering,
to Istanbul, that wrings sorrows
that fall on me.
Solitude without you.
In this obscure city,
my blood clotting,
I am snowed under with dreams.
The wide streets accentuate your absence.
Istanbul takes me from city to city.
This great place is well-versed
in my suffering,
the dock birds pull me
to their tired nights
and Istanbul searches
top to bottom.
Solitude without you.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
REALITIES WHICS FORM OUR INSTINCTS
The door was closed.
I fumbled three times
with the doorknob.
I thought the room was occupied
then, buttoning up my vest,
I entered, my head lowered.
I feared a nasty look
that took form
in my instincts.
At that moment, very gently,
I turned my head towards the window
which the wind had opened.
Papers lying on the desk
now lay scattered on the floor.
My head lowered, one by one,
I picked them up
with humility
and placed them on the desk
in expectation of a growl
or a rude look.
Cheerfully, I raised my head.
A large, empty armchair
was facing me.
I backed away
with ceremony and fear
saluting the empty armchair...
Those waiting before the door
one in front of the other
make life precarious, reflecting themselves,
in windows which bang from the wind.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
BROTHER, GARBAGE SWEEPER
Brother, garbage sweeper,
Don't sweep anyone's hopes away
They've tossed into the streets...
Tears, you know,
Cannot smudge
Our Avenues...
Folks on the whole
Keep their regrets
All bottled up...
No you can't guess
How they feel
When they don't go outside...
Those garbage pails
You've emptied out for years
And years and years, are mute
Witness to your feelings...
So why allow anyone
Who thinks only of his stomach
To bother you?
Brother, garbage sweeper,
please don't misunderstand
My words...
I never intended
To humiliate you ....
What's the difference
Between us?...
Brother, garbage sweeper,
Don't sweep anyone's hopes away
They've tossed into the streets...
Tears, you know,
Cannot smear
Our Avenues...
© Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Paris, 10. 05.1999
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Richard Vallance , 2002
THE WORM'S IN THE APPLE
The worm's in the apple
Nibbling away at its juicy white
To discover its way
To Life's core.
As it wiggles around
In its obscurity
Like a new-born,
It sucks on Nature's
Salty juice.
In the magma of its own low-life
Lava overflows
Its egoism...
It falls asleep... It wakes up
Nothing's changed
It sticks, with the taste of it,
In Time's core.
It weaves its mask, a spinning web,
And all the furrows it's hollowed out
Wear it out...
It plays its sinuous games
In its one black eye...
As it winds it way all around
The Apple Green...
It sounds out the sun it sets
While it hides itself away...
Its essence is putrefied
By its stomach
Full of seeds, ashes to ashes,
Walls it's built alone
Their stones must crumble one by one
Into dust...
Until at last, at last
It's found out.
© Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Magnanville - 26.05.2000
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Richard Vallance , 2002
AH, IF ONE COULD CHANGE
Ah, if one could change
the status of certain things,
like looks flowing naturally
that promise carnations.
Without a hand's touch
the plummage of birds
faces the morning
full of peace.
Ah, if one could
broadcast the perfume of roses
everywhere,
rose faces
outflanking men.
Ah, if one could change
the status of certain things.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Paris - 10.09.2000
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2004
THE SUN DOES
NOT STOP PRECISELY RISING
The light has not yet been lit
on the ambiance of friendship.
The sun does not stop rising
on errors
at its appointed hour.
Writings have not transformed
the harshness of insensibility.
Provocations have been delivered
and one has been the spectator
like a bull fighter...
The songs of peace
have not been taken
one step further.
The sorrows
were profound
and elusive,
the period stamped
on black pages
and into bloody cells.
Presenting themselves
as innocent methods,
they stirred up feelings
among the poor.
Imbeciles
have big feet.
Suffering caused by famine
was to be endured.
Paintings
the written word
designs
were not to be understood
in spite of the suffering
and cries
dismantling the signs.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Magnanville - 19.03.2001
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2004
ON THE REMAINS OF YESTERDAY
A stone lying here and there,
begging cicadas,
the interesting countryside,
polluting the atmosphere,
and a bowl full of respectability...
Some tortured, some dead,
fish in agony
on the beaches.
Facing starvation.
The accused
who clink their glasses...
Some tired landscapes
on the remains of of yesterday,
violets from excavated corpses,
lilies angry at the sun,
roses wrongly loved...
rubbish surrounds the environment.
Blue
is pale beside green.
Green is condemned to die
as sick animals are incinerated.
Shipwrecked boats
poison the seas.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Paris - 20.05.2001
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2004
THIRD DARKNESS
In hatred's contradictions
it is a chain
passing by emptiness.
Figures
in color
are at the brink of prejudice.
As one goes along
words become strained,
trapped,
the light of July
split in two.
Friendship was so slight
without greeting
at the beginning of the morning.
The mask of egoism
has fallen now.
It is time to evaluate
the worth of theory
in the fields of interest.
Greed's harvest
has been taken away.
The wheel has turned
against the cold
some heartbeats
from the morning,
from the third darkness.
The winds have blown
with unique meaning.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Paris - 20.05.2001
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2004
TOMORROW THE SUN IS BORN FOR US
Don't catch a cold
at the crossroads
of coldness,
tell of the shape
of guard railings.
So much language turns
every which way.
Tomorrow the sun
will be born for us.
How can one remain numb
to what he makes suffer?
Like night living
in the clarity of day.
In any event, we know
that the sheath for rudeness
is ever ready.
Tomorrow the sun
will be born for us.
Even if you work
to make the blackened slopes shine,
do they know
if you exist or not among them?
We know their goal,
and their scorn of you.
Let it go, do nothing
about all that has happened
every which way...
Tomorrow the sun
will be born for us.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Magnanville - 16.03.2000
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2004
I WAS SMALL, ONLY SMALL
I was small
only small
I held a rose in my hand
that I had cultivated in my heart.
My mother gave me love
which I sent to my father
with my glances.
In school I had first rate companions
and teachers who allowed me
to learn to read and write,
and to understand
before giving out information.
I loved birds
and listened to the flowers
I was a good friend
of pencils and books.
I often designed my life
in balance
I was a defender
of ecological equilibrium.
I was small
only small
I held a rose in my hand
that I had cultivated in my heart.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Paris, 14.04.2004
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick, 2004
|
|
|
|
