FAZIL HÜSNÜ DAGLARCA Seçme Siirler * Selected Poems

Translated by Talat Sait Halman

Çirkin Çirkin, yavrum, dudaklarindaki kizillik, Kansiz dogaya karsi. Uyurken memleket ve evren uzaktan, Uyurken bir hücre, hücreler içinde, Eksi. Çirkin, bu satislar, Yüzde yirmi, yüzde otuz. Geçer anlarin tadi içerden ; Anilar ve sevgiler, çarsilar üstünde, uçar. Yeniden var oluruz. Sürünür ovalar yasli ve bosuna, Çirkin simdi, yükselmis güzellik. Ve kaçar yasamanin ölçülerinde; yeni, uzun; Bir avuçluk, bütün dokunduklarimiz, Bir ellik. Okulumuz, bahçelere, hesaplara dönmüs, Çirkin. Sonsuz ormanligi rahatligin, yüce uzamisligi erdemliligin, Daglarda ve sokaklarda. Tedirgin. Yalanla, gerçeklerin sirrina varmis, Oyunla karismis, ölmüslerin akillarina; Çirkin, mahkemelerde bir avukat. Gelir bilinmeyen yönlerin namussuz hoslugu, Körlerden ve topallardan daha sakat. Çirkindir, uzayan erkek vakitlere göre, Gece yarisi. Agriyan kemiklerle, uzakliklara gizlenmis, Acimakla degil, korkunçluguyla büyük, Yildizlar yildizlar ve yukarisi. Çirkin degil midir, dolarken nesillerin hayirsizligina, Yavas yavas. Ninelerin çarpilmis yüzünde, Kabul edilmemis duasinda gelinlerin, Tarihlerden bir savas? Bir ekmek kavgasi duyulur ta böceklerden, Uluyan agaçlar, susan makineler sesi. Igrenç hendeseleri gövdenin, bürünür düslere; Gezegenler arasindaki uygarliga karsi, Çirkin, doymuslarin ve doymamislarin nefesi. Nasil kimildamasin, nasil uyusun, Sabrimiz ve ahmakligimiz, derinde ? Güzel degildir avunmak, kuslar çiçekler bosunadir; Çirkindir, küçük mutlulugumuz, Piç dünyalar üzerinde. Insan boyu kadar cüce, insan ömrü kadar kisa, Güzel neymis ki ulu çirkinin yaninda? Çirkin, bu, bardaklara sigmayan kederimiz, Çirkin, bu ardi ve önü görünmeyen kader, Karanlikla ve soysuzlukla yasar, vataninda. Ölüm, karsiliksiz gülümseme, çaresiz sey, Ugruna efsaneler beyazliginda yürür nefis. Çirkin, bin yil önceki anam babam, Koyduklari her tas, inandiklari her masal, Pis. Tanri duymaz, cenazeler duymaz, Göklerde sehrimizin utanmayan sagirligi, Biter, aptalin türküleri, gömülerde, Askin, havanin, yerin hafifliginde ey dost, Çirkindir agirligim, agirligin, agirligi.

Ugly It's ugly, darling, your lips' scarlet blotch Against bloodless nature. While this land sleeps, and the globe far away, As one membrane sleeps in a throng, It tastes sour. It's ugly, this trading -- Twenty per cent, thirty per cent. The joy of the moments fleets inward. As memories and loves soar over the bazaars, We are reborn, alive, unspent. Meadows crawl, aged and aimless. Beauty aloft turns ugly, banned From life's measures, new and tall, And all we touch fills one palm Of one hand. Molded into gardens and figures, Our school is ugly. Comfort's endless forests and virtue's mighty sprawl On the hills, in the streets, No longer snugly. Lies lead him to the essences of truth, And deceit to the wisdom of the dead: The shyster in court is ugly, Cripplied more than the blind and the lame, The infamous pleasure of darkness descends smugly. Against the valiant times that endure, Ugly is the midnight. Skulking in aching bones along distances, Lie stars, constellations, the whole firmament, Grand not by mercy, but by inspiring fright. As it grips the generations of vice and waste Slowly Over the disfigured faces of crones, And as the prayers of young brides go unanswered, Warfare in history is ugly. Bugs emit the whirrs of the battle for bread. Trees whine and machines die a slow death. The hateful geometry of the flesh is clad in dreams. Though the planets share the same civilisation, The fed and the hungry alike cast an ugly breath. How could our patience and idiocy Sleep and not stir in the abyss? Solace is grim; birds and flowers are futile. On this bastard earth How ugly our petty bliss. As dwarfish as man, as fleeting as life, What is beauty where the hideous stands grand? It's ugly, our pain which no grail can contain. Destiny's ugly from gloom to fearful gloom, Living dark and degenerate in its homeland. Death is an unrequited smile, an inevitable affair; For death's sake we tread on legend's purity. Ugly are my ancestors of a millenium ago. Each stone they placed, each fable they believed in, Is dirty. God lurks numb, and funerals march numb. In heaven, the shameful deafness of our city -- With the burials the idiot's songs end. In the buoyancy of love, soil and air, my friend, It's ugly: my gravity, your gravity, his gravity.