Gokcenur Celebioglu, Turkey
Ülkenden Uzaktasın, Ülkendeyim
Ülkenden uzaktasın, ülkendeyim
giderek, postada kaybolan mektuplara
benziyor şiirlerim:
Uyuyakalmışsın uzun, muz sarısı koltuğunda
topuzun dağılmış, gözlüğün düşüyor elinden yere
yenmiş tabağında beş elmadan dördü
arasına tarak sıkıştırılmış bir kitap
dizlerinin üstünde prusya mavisi bir örtü
düşünde eski seslerin piyesinden
bir sahne görüyorsun belki
bizdesin, annen çıldırmamış daha,
kardeşimi askere almamışlar
"Şimdi Uzaklardasın" ı söylüyor
Zeki Müren radyoda
birazdan şarkıyı kesip silahlı kuvvetlerin
ülkenin selameti için
yönetime el koyduğunu söyleyecekler
birazdan "gitmem gerek" diyeceksin
"ben gelemem, çünkü Türkçe..."
Binlerce kez izledin bu oyunu
sırılsıklam ter içinde uyanmak üzereyken ama,
ilk defa, buruşturulmuş bir
telgraf ilişecek gözüne
gramafon dolabında :
../'uyanma sakın../'rüzgâr../'
benden haber gibi../'göğsüne kuru
/'bir yaprak düşürecek../'
Ülkenden uzaktasın, ülken çok karışık
şimdilik hayattayım
maşuk, kuşkulu, ayrılığa bağışık
You're Far Away From Your Country Where I Am
You're far away from your country where I am
day by day my poems
begin to resemble letters lost in the post:
You've fallen asleep on your long, banana-colored couch,
your bun is undone, your glasses are about to fall from your fingers,
four of five apples in your plate have been eaten,
a book has a hair brush between pages to mark where you were,
a baltic-blue blanket over your knees,
maybe you are dreaming a scene from a play with old voices:
You're in our apartment, your mother
hasn't gone mad yet, my brother hasn't been conscripted
Zeki Müren sings "You're far away now" on the radio
in a minute they will cut off the song and announce
that military forces are taking control
for the safety and security of the country,
in a minute you will say "I have to go away"
"I can't come, because the Turkish is..."
You have seen this play a thousand times,
but as you are about to wake up
for the first time you will notice a telegram
on the gramophone:
../don't wake up../wind../
will drop a dry leaf../on your chest
/like news from me./
You're far away from your country which is in a chaos
I'm alive for now
in love, in doubt and immune to being parted.
Translated by Gökçenur Ç. and Robyn Marsack
Kril Harfleriyle Geyik Sesidir Adın
Kril harfleriyle geyik sesidir adın
karlı bir iskandinav ovası gibi açılan kâğıtta,
gömülüp kaldığımız,
atlarımızın geçemediği altı haftada
Usta der
diken yayı gerer,
mavi bir güle dönüşür
havada vınlayan ok
geyik sıçrar, zaman durur
Aşk ki usta nişancıdır, zalimdir; yoktur
yaralayacaksa kalbinden
öldürecekse kalkanından vurur
Çocuk, flüt oyar ormanda ustasından habersiz,
göğüslerini bulgar gülleriyle örterek gelir kız,
gelir toplayarak kuşburnu
dikenli çalılardan
Usta der
diken yayı gerer
aşk ki bundan başkadır ve düpedüz budur
tek kollu üstelik kör bir okçudur
bulur her kabuğun en yumuşak yerini
Çocuk, uyur atının altında
uyur ustası, atlar, kamp
geyik iner nilüferlerin kar tuttuğu göle
iner geçerek arasından çadırların
Kril harfleriyle geyik sesidir adın
karlı bir iskandinav ovası gibi açılır kâğıt
çoktan gitmişler, küller, yolunmuş bulgar gülleri,
koklar durur kurt, geyiğin ayak izlerini
Your Name is a Deer Howling Written in The Cyrillic Alphabet
Your name is a deer howling written in the cyrillic alphabet
a paper unfolds like a snow-clad scandinavian plain
which we sank into
for six weeks couldn't cross on horseback
Master says
the thorn draws the bow
the whirling arrow becomes
a blue rose
deer springs, time stops
Love is a sharpshooter, cruel and nonexistent
hits the heart to wound
hits the shield to kill
The boy carves a flute in the forest his master unaware
the girl comes covering her breasts with bulgarian roses
she comes picking rosehips
from the barbed bushes
Master says
the thorn draws the bow
Love is something else or just this
a one armed, even blind archer
finds the softest point of every shell
Boy sleeps under his horse
Master sleeps, horses sleep, camp sleeps
deer comes down by the lake, waterlilies covered with snow
comes down passing between tents
Your name is a deer howling written in the cyrillic alphabet
a paper unfolds like a snow-clad scandinavian plain
they have already gone, ashes, plucked bulgarian roses
the wolf keeps sniffing the deer's hoof prints
Translated by Gökçenur Ç. and Robyn Marsack
The Poet
Gökçenur Ç. is a poet, translator, editor, and poetry activist based in Istanbul.
As poet
With seven Turkish poetry books to his name in Turkish, he has received prestigious prizes such as the Arkadaş Z. Özger Best Debut Poetry Book Prize for his first publication, and the Sabahattin Kudret Aksal Literature Prize and Metin Altıok Poetry Prize for his latest work. His Selected Poetry books has been published in English, German, Italian, Serbian, Romanian, Bulgarian.
As editor
He is the co-editor of the Turkish domain in Poetry International portal and is on the editorial board of Macedonian-based international literary magazine Blesok. He is the editor of renowned literature Magazine Offline Istanbul. He also edited many of literature magazines, poetry, and poetry in translation books in Turkish.
As translator
He has translated and published selected poetry books of Wallace Stevens, Paul Auster, Ursula Le Guin, Ocean Vuong, Anne Carson and many other exceptional world poets into Turkish and some of the best Turkish poets 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 international poetry festivals Offline Istanbul, Poesium Istanbul, Mosaic of Metaphors Gaziantep, and Turkish American Poetry Days; and have been board member of Nilüfer International Poetry Festival, Crete International Poetry Festival and Kritya International Poetry Movement.
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