METIN CELAL
(1961)
THE AGE OF 30
i always ask
how many life stories does a man have
and which one is the fakehow would it be to think of a city again,
forgetting those feelings that have remained cozy for years,
of a sea that turned scarlet
of those who got missing while being tortured
of roads built on stakes
of our identity that is different and the samewhile the city collapsing down upon us
with all its avenues and streets
while habits swallowing people
and while the street names being changed
who could believe in magic,
or fortune-telling by water or time depositsurely i believe in myself,
the most constant of all beliefs
the language consisting of gestures and looks
the last of the ten commandmentsi have no license regarding the society
my arms are tied behind my back
fake loves and happy marriages
just become mewhile waiting in the still waters of life
the following is the thing that keeps my mind busy
how do managers' kids pass their class
picking my nose
playing doctoryou got it, i have been so lonely for ages
Translated by Zeynep Akkus
DEATH IS MY NAME
i am the one who flows in the bosom of that city
the scream that whips the night
everlasting, unbrokenwhy are all the knives inlaid with nacre
why is a claret red rose like the cry of a dervish
why does it flow out of the lips so thunderouslyyes, i know you are into blue, too
i know that the claret red rose reminded you of death
the flower of your song wiltedwell, how should i put it
i am the one who flows in the bosom that city
i either place myself into your bloodshot eyes
or become a damn bullet in the streetsi am the one who flows in the bosom of that city
no matter how hard you try to hide my name in the letters
i am in all of the photographs
dog-eared, a bit sadi am the one who flows in the bosom of that city
it's i who waits for you in the queues
the one who pops out anytime anywhere
in the dark corners
in the middle of the night
and behind any doors
it's i who waits for youTranslated by Zeynep Akkus
THE CONFORMIST
it was as if everything had been experienced before
we had already known those streets before even we walked on them
all the words to be said had already been written
our cold corpses were destined to be sadlittle fragments of life and trivial details
included within the limits of our knowledge
but we weren't allowed to change anything at all
this life had to be led that waywhile waiting to calm down, after each and every nightmare
there was one statement that we could hold onto:
"Children who eat fire
die before they turn out twenty."Translated by Zeynep Akkus
WELL, EXCUSE ME
i saved the taste of water on my forehead
i am back from long, endless roads
i am afraid, my hands tremble
i take fright, afraid of the night
i take a look at four directions
shaky is my whole body
i am the call of a rain to itselfno need to be bored or ashamed
i have words to be said
my cry would tear down some thingsi am the one whose breath is faded
the partner of a thousand silences,
supporter of everything,
the center of everything,
diseased, clinically recorded, i am you
i am obliged to survivei am a young poet
i am here to submit you my poemsTranslated by Zeynep Akkus
135 WAKE-UP SERVICE
I lived as if setting out on a long journey
I prepared for death, gave up at midway
I clung to the seduction of harmony
questions remained unansweredthe smell of mold had long penetrated me
in manner civilized and with no personality
of those with nothing left to say
the walls sweated, humidity rotted the stoneI clung to your voice, to that mistake
I sniffed thinner, I said
my brain melted, shrank and vanished
I submitted to the rules and was rewardedthe silent tension lingering between us
disappearing when suppressed
remembered when disappearlng
with the stability of the days
captured a child in its handsruthless as the aged and children
pointing to the mistakes I attributed to amphetamine
you simply left, saying
if you're gonna fall
fall right into the midst of yourselfTranslated by Suat Karantay