Üzeyir Lokman
Cayci, FR
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Free Verse
Those who
dance to the rhythm of their own music
Those who nourish
themselves on meats, dairy products and desserts
Cannot estimate you at your fair value.
Even if stone
cracked, you cannot make them open
The windows of their farm…
People like you are not included in their center of interest
You do not exist…
Hereafter you must know
That they do not have time to bless you!
Their eyes are
always fixed from above you
While they bow
With smiles above their double chins
Before the sovereign...the sultan.
Do you think for an instant that they acknowledge you?
If you ask my
opinion on this subject
It is because the ends of their twine
Are in the hands of other people.
Don't take exception to the fact
That they are taken for kings!
Do not wait for
them
In the wrong places
Vainly hoping
They will consider you a man…
Even if you write
hundreds of letters
To these men of the closed doors
Intending to see or speak to them
You will not receive a single response…
Be wary and attentive;
Above everything
Allow them their haughty airs.
By thinking themselves important
They will look at you scornfully!
They well like
fondling
Each others' backs…
It is no longer to the point
To listen to their dialogues "with admiration"
To extol their writings "enthusiastically"
To reward their facts "by clapping"…
Do not waste your
time
Or put your attention here…
Think of other things.
Paris, 20.06.2007
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve
McCormick
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.
French free verse
translated into English free verse by F. J. Bergmann, 2002
Istanbul In
My Dreams
Your expectations
are carved into my eyes...
Their shapes melt in my dreams
The face seen in your postcards
Is not that of your soul Istanbul...
Living apart does not change your seas
Your waiting landscapes offer themselves
Thoughts do not remain still
Istanbul rests its weight upon my loneliness...
White fish swim in your living past
Seagulls float in your memories
Obliterated friendships stay awake till dawn
Anatolia rises from your horizons Istanbul...
French free verse
translated into English free verse by F. J. Bergmann, 2002
Shaping
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.
French free verse
translated into English free verse by F. J. Bergmann, 2002
The Cell
Watching the end
Painful memories knot themselves
Behind your eyes
Hopes are suspended one by one
Your hands will never reach
My hands...
You will suffer infinite pains
Your nights of freedom will be woven
Into your dreams
The palest of your hopes will exhaust itself
In the most horrible darkness
These shadows
Will be sewn into your thoughts
In a distant cell
Thousands of miles away
And... your eyes will never meet
My eyes...
French free verse
translated into English free verse by F. J. Bergmann, 2002
Martial
Dances
We live in strange
times, my brother
men make money
with war dances
and occupation...
Do you not see the bombardments
and the pillaging?
Under the boot
you are worn out,
these days
the sweat of your brow
no longer serves you!
Tanks come from distant lands
passing down your streets
demanding to know
why you were born!
And you can say nothing.
Soon, if this continues,
it will be the course of progress
to be denied learning.
One speaks of the rights of man
here and there.
Do not believe those rumors!
You see that nothing is in place now!
We live in strange times my brother,
arms dealing,
construction
governing the land.
Is it so difficult to understand?
They sell the merchandise of war!
Come listen to my counsel.
Don't marry, it is unsupportable
to suffer the massacre of your children.
The success of your affairs depends
on producing fictitious enemies
to menace...
In this manner
they take over small countries
one after the other
under the pretext of saving them.
While you fight amongst yourselves
others consume your underground resources.
What should I tell you;
do these times plant sorrow
in your hearts?
Be a little understanding!
Increase the number of fratricidal wars,
divide your people further
to make the lives of the invaders easier.
Do not forget that to destroy love
requires only this:
Live in a society without love
and don't educate anyone...
Live in the clarity of obscurity,
depend only on yourself!
The sun rises and sets on time...
the throats of cocks are cut
that sing before the hour!
We live in strange times my brother,
men make money with war dances
and occupation...
Do you not see the bombardments
and the pillaging?
Paris - 17.03.2003
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve
McCormick - 2003
The Hunter
Has Become a Guide for the Birds
The hunter has
become a guide for the birds,
his two faces
against two wings.
He has chopped down trees
to make a post
with small dried branches
for the birds to roost.
He has broken off flowers
to decorate this small tree
to cheer the birds.
He has put small stones
and large grains of wheat
on plates
so that the birds can eat.
He has constructed
posts with pencils
and towers with posts
from the ruins of the towers
so that the birds can take cover.
He has appended signatures,
each one different,
on dry leaves
with his two faces,
no one noticing.
After some time,
chasing the birds one by one,
he blows like a wind,
saying that judges and prosecutors
are his friends.
The birds, like many others,
quickly understand
and when the time is ripe
they emigrate
exchanging one thing for another,
finding another country,
agreeable people, trees,
grains of wheat on plates
and flowers of all colors...
while living peacefully there,
the hunter is of two faces
against two wings.
Mantes la Ville -
1998
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve
McCormick
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...
Paris, 10. 05.1999
French free verse translated into English free verse by
Richard Vallance , 2002
Don't Forget
Even if I've lost
you
To those mirrors
You'll always be
There before my very eyes
Perhaps I can no longer
Hold your hands
Perhaps I can no longer
Conceal your nudity
In white cotton twills
You'll be arrested
By those very evenings
where and when you'll see
It's all stopped, just like that
Before your windowpanes, disappearing
Read my name in the reflections of light
Don't you forget it
You'll be arrested by those very evenings
Don't you forget it
French free verse
translated into English free verse © by Richard Vallance,
June, 2003
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.
İstanbul,
20.02.1975
Translated from Turkish to French by Yakup Yurt followed by
English translation by Richard Vallance
Spontaneity
While thinking
While working
While eating
Comprehension at each age...
To overcome fears
To rid oneself of fears
To face the heat
An iron will…
To embellish life
To improve friendship
To embrace sincerity
And exemplary attitudes...
To live humanly
On a high level of coexistence
To embrace love
Permanent affection
With profundity
With principles…
To help without strings
With unrestricted tolerance
Approaches without bargaining
Sacrifices recognized
One in another…
Friends… Comrades…
Neighbors… Brothers…
Without discrimination
Virtue that considers only the person…
Building bridges
Making appreciation felt
And anger
Thanks to a healthy heart
Directing
Creating
Self-inclusion
Understanding
Unifying forever In spontaneity!
Paris, le 23.11.2007
Translated from the
Turkish by Yakup Yurt; English translations by Joneve McCormick,
16.05.2008
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.
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…
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Richard Vallance, 2002
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.
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.
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.
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Richard Vallance, 2002
Are You Ready
Children?
Today I shall choose
one of you
A child on whom falls a shadow, wedged in a corner between
lines...
A daisy bringing us some suffering from his home
Silent in the middle of a blue turning grey, a button of a rose
without anyone in the mass of it...
A living being full of secrets, the heart of which spreads light
While the sun continues running into water, the headlights of
space fall in front of him one after another...
Say so if you have problems!
If you are part of a life full of black points, blended in the
night, encircled with ruddy colours, show yourselves...
I know that your security guards do not self-protect
In spite of the reins of ice on your ways, in which the identity
of humans melt, can you determine your destination?
Are you ready children?
Today I shall choose one of you
A child on whom falls a shadow, wedged in a corner between
lines...
Paris, 20.12.2003
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick,
08.10.2005
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.
Magnanville,
26.05.2000
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Richard Vallance, 2002
It Is The Age
of Cucumbers
I've always said:
"A door that four people cannot open
a dog opens with the end
of its nose
and goes on its way..."
No one is surprised though.
It is the age of cucumbers.
A machine washes the linen,
a man does not find time
to wash himself.
On certain bald heads
there is everything but hair,
and humanity.
In the castles
are wood worms,
not sultans,
living like kings...
No one is surprised though.
It is the age of cucumbers.
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick – 2004
Stopping
Evenings
There is no longer
light
touching my bedside;
those evenings have aged in my dreams,
one or two lines embracing my eyes,
a revolution in my veins.
I sip the evenings hidden in my dreams,
shadows hurtling into my pupils,
still looking for you
before a statue.
The evenings undulate
like the song of a bird,
my hopes lost,
falling at a stopping;
my sentiments drag along in my heart
and I say that evenings stopping
will never blacken.
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
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...
NDTR: Nigde is a
prefecture of Turkey and Bor is a sub-prefecture of Nigde.
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
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!
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
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.
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
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.
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
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 vessels
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!...
Paris, 30.04.2001
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Richard Vallance
The City Which
is Inside You
You live in your own
inner city, which you bought in a
silent auction.
You were again unable to cancel your debts.
Under your blackening eyelids you try to feel certain
things.
Without noticing your withdrawal from self, you leave for
distant parts
by using your ropes of thought like a ski-lift.
Your shudders increase as you touch the numberless elements.
In your screams at the moment when you feel the jolts
from the echoes
of your words crossing the threshold of your thought,
you send birds fleeing before you. As you breathe, your
roses wither.
In your moments of madness, crystals fall from your roof.
As your field of thought shrinks, your city expands. You
exhaust yourself
from running down the streets and avenues.
As the lamps of your voltage machines alight upon your
nights,
your humans robotize themselves.
The toads in your dirty waters frighten even the crocodiles.
Your inner journey makes you grow older.
Your internal cries amplify themselves.
You manifest difficulties with forty paws.
The auxiliary cells of your laboratories do not give you
the opportunity to live any pleasurable moments.
While the fear indicator inside you slackens you through
and through, you
have not
even the possibility of speaking. With each movement of
the clock,
the seasons rip themselves out of your heart.
Your solitude traverses your spirit without cease.
Mantes la Ville,
22.09.2002
French free verse
translated into English free verse by F.J. Bergmann
The Cul-de-Sac
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.
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
I Want to Know
People
Take me there,
guide me with your hands
to the moment when familiar sorrows
babble
in deserted streets.
I want to know people.
Before shadows cover,
and smoke surrounds my eyes,
I want to know people.
People of a forgotten city
are about to be buried
in darkness.
Do not remain there!
Wake up the stars...
Take me there,
guide me with your hands,
I want to know people.
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
Looking at
Oneself in the Mirror
A human being sees
himself
in the mirror.
Beyond thought
from time to time
he sees deformed faces,
he sees things upside down.
He seeks a culprit constantly.
He sees fabrics
all in pieces.
Whomever he accuses
is himself.
A courteous human being
cannot accuse without knowledge.
Whether a human being lives in Paris
or in Kenja,
truths are invariable
in the universe.
A human being sees himself
in the mirror.
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
I was in these
pages
Without making you
feel at all
In lands very distant from you
I raised flowers which you like
I know
I left you by yourself
With unforgettable memories...
Every so often
You felt uneasy
Because of my badly digested words
You stayed sleepless...
During successive days
I dragged you towards mornings without a sun
I was in these pages.
I hurt you with touching songs which I liked
I touched you with my poems
Again and again, I drenched you
With my feelings...
I was in these pages.
I often took you for walks
On the most populated streets
Of Istanbul
With your heart beating
Your beliefs and acknowledgments moulded time
Behind blurred window panes...
I was in these pages.
The sky was different
Light was acid
Avenues were without people
Streets were without soul
When I lost you
In the stopping of a bus...
I was in these pages.
I made you wait until mornings
On the streets of Istanbul
I made you tremble in full jolts while you dreamed
During your sighs I threw your shades
Into seas
On blank pages I wrote that I love you...
I made your drawings
On all the walls of the city...
I was in these pages.
Francfort,
05.04.1980
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
I wrote my
poems with my heart
I wrote my poems
with my heart
I strolled abroad
With my manuscripts,
drew my expectations
into my drawings
The avalanche of suffering
crushes me.
I put years
on my back,
stored secrets
in my memory
Often I could not end
trips...
I was annoyed
by the hypocritical
before my eyes
The mothers gave birth
to tears
The orphans and the forlorn
distributed grief.
I wrote my poems
with my heart
I strolled abroad
With my manuscripts,
drew my expectations
into my drawings
The avalanche of suffering
crushes me.
Rueil Malmaison,
10.12.2005
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
Go Now...Come
Back Later
Do not stay in front
of my troubles
And rattle my private feelings
Hereafter, do not touch my ideas
Do not revive my memories
Leave me to myself
Go now...
Come back later!
Me, I depend on my loneliness...
I do not let other people trample
My love so easily
Leave me to myself
Go now...
Come back later!
Me, I am accustomed to the sky's irony
It is of no importance
That I am discovered in my sleep...
I climb my trees myself
I water my flowers myself
Leave me to myself
Go now...
Come back later!
Do not stay in front of my troubles
And rattle my private feelings
Hereafter, do not touch my ideas
Do not revive my memories
Leave me to myself
Go now...
Come back later!
Ankara, 06.06.1979
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
I cannot say to
you, 'rest in the night'
When you get bored
Go at the edge of the Seine
Be the friend of swans
Divide some bread into pieces
To throw to them!
Don't be in charge of shippers
Letters remain in consciousness
By dancing northward
Consider bottles
Carried away by fluxes...
Never present yourself
Instead of others
Don't conform to others either
Rest as you are...
The art that is contained in you develops
I cannot say to you 'rest in the night'.
Impose your existence
Like a rose
On the pages of society
In the mirror of a page
And in the middle of a mirror
I cannot say to you 'rest in the night'.
Pretend not to see
The cold winds which pass
Near to you
Drink the sun
Dispel your sadness
Burn griefs one after another...
I cannot say to you 'rest in the night'.
Hardly believe what you hear
Weigh all that you see
Review all that you learn
Speak of your feelings
only to those you like
I cannot say to you 'rest in the night'.
Bruxelles,
05.11.2005
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
Do not pass by
the places which I frequented
Especially do not
smell my flowers
or tin my hopes
As a favour
Do not stretch your frozen hands
towards my fire...
Do not finger my nights, full of nostalgia,
with pity for my stars!
Do not make my songs endure
Go, before my eyes
As a favour
do not pass by the places which I frequented.
Leave me to myself
Do not mingle in my thoughts
Hold yourself distant from my feelings
As a final favour
leave my poems
Do not pass by the places which I frequented.
Ankara, 12.01.1980
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
To Be Saved
When they said he
had been "saved..."
they meant a child had just been born.
His neighbour with whom he was on poor terms
had fallen down a staircase and died
His neighbours testified against him
He was judged and condemned to prison
Years afterwards, completely exhausted
He was let out.
His neighbours who had testified against him
said on the subject that he had been "saved".
After awhile
he could not carry life's burdens
and breathed his grief with difficulty.
Finally, he was hospitalized.
He showed interest
to the doctors and nurses
at his bedside
so that he could deal with
future crises
When they said that he had been "saved"
he left the hospital.
The chain of indifference
followed through to his small children,
helped because of the suffering;
the home folded in two.
One day
at the moment he was living alone
his home collapsed and he fell where he was
When they said that he had been "saved"
he was dead.
Paris, 09.09.1999
French free verse
translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick
View Art by Üzeyir Lokman
Cayci, FR
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