The introductory article in his first book, Garip, became the manifesto of the Birinci Yeni. When he died of a stroke, he was the editor of the literary magazine Yaprak. Orhan Veli eliminated the superfluous sayings of classical poetry and used a simplified language, drawing upon the beauties of colloquial Turkish. He influenced many young poets of Turkish literature and his untimely death is considered a great loss. POETRY: Garip (1941, in collaboration with Oktay Rifat and Melih Cevdet Anday; the second edition of 1945 includes only his poems), Vazgeçemediğim (1945), Destan Gibi (1946), YenisiKarşı (1949), Bütün Şiirleri (1951), İstanbul'u Dinliyorum (1966). OTHER WORKS: La Fontaine'in Masalları (1948, translations), Nasreddin Hoca Hikâyeleri (1949, compilation), Nesir Yazıları (1953), Fransız Şiiri Antolojisi (undated), Bütün Çeviri Şiirleri (1982, edited by Asım Bezirci). (1947),
I LISTEN TO ISTANBUL
I listen to Istanbul, my eyes closed:
First, a light wind blowing
A soft wind swaying
The leaves in the trees,
And far off in the distance
The tinkling cups of the water-seller;
I listen to Istanbul, my eyes closed.
I listen to Istanbul, my eyes closed:
Now the birds are passing
In high clamoring flocks,
Nets are pulled in at the fisheries,
A woman's feet graze the water;
I listen to Istanbul, my eyes closed.
I listen to Istanbul, my eyes
closed:
The cool covered bazaar,
Mahmutpasha, the courtyards
Filled with warbling pigeons,
Hammer sounds from the docks,
Smells of sweat in my lovely Spring wind;
I listen to Istanbul, my eyes closed.
I listen to Istanbul, my eyes closed:
An old world drunk in its head,
A waterfront palace with a dark boat shed,
The humming of the lodos ceases inside;
I listen to Istanbul, my eyes closed.
I listen to Istanbul, my eyes closed:
A pretty young girl walks by
Chased by taunts, come-ons and
curses,
Something falls from my hand—
Surely a rose;
I listen to Istanbul, my eyes closed.
I listen to Istanbul, my eyes closed:
A bird is fluttering in your skirts,
Your brow is hot, I know,
Your lips are wet, I know, I know,
A white moon rises behind the pistachio trees—
I understand the pounding of your heart;
I listen to Istanbul, my eyes closed.
Translated by Larry Clark
WORDS
You have one kind of beauty
in the mirror
another in bed.
Ignore their whispers
dress up
put your lipstick on.
Come
just to spite them
to the coffeehouse
at promenade time.
Let them whisper:
you're my friend,
aren't you?
Translated by Larry Clark
FREE
We live free
Air is free, clouds are free
Valleys and hills are free
Rain and mud are free
The outside of cars
The entrances of cinemas
And the shop windows are free
bread and cheese cost money, but
Stale water is free
Freedom can cost your head
But prison is free
We live free.
Translated by Bernard Lewis
FINE DAYS
These fine days have been my ruin.
On this kind of day I resigned
My job in "Pious Foundations"
On this kind of day I started to smoke
On this kind of day I fell in love
On this kind of day I forgot
To bring home bread and salt
On this kind of day I had a relapse
Into my versifying disease.
These fine days have been my ruin.
Translated by Bernard Lewis
TAIL-SONG
We can't come together, our ways are different
You're a butcher's cat, I'm an alley cat
Your food comes in a tin bowl
Mine is in the lion's mouth
You dream of love, I of a bone.
But your way isn't easy either, brother
It's no easy job
To lick the man's hand every damn day.
Translated by Bernard Lewis
REPLY
—from the butcher's cat to the alley cat—
You speak of hunger
That means you are a communist
That means you burned down all those buildings
The ones in Istanbul
The ones in Ankara.
What a swine you are!
Translated by Bernard Lewis
BELL-SONG
We are officials
At 9 o'clock, 12 o'clock, 5 o'clock,
We form our private clusters in the streets.
Thus did Almighty God record our fate
We wait for the break-bell or the first of the month.
Translated by Bernard Lewis
FOR THE FATHERLAND
What have we not done for this our fatherland!
Some of us have died;
Some of us have made speeches.
Translated by Bernard Lewis
[From An Anthology of Turkish Literature, Edited by
Kemal Silay]
