Orhan Veli Kanık
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
| Orhan Veli | |
|---|---|
| Born | April 13, 1914 Istanbul, Turkey |
| Died | November 14, 1950 Istanbul, Turkey |
| Turkish Literature |
| By category |
| Epic Tradition |
| Folk Tradition |
| Ottoman Era |
| Republican Era |
Orhan Veli Kanık (born on April 13, 1914 in Istanbul, died on November 14, 1950) was a Turkish poet. Orhan Veli, together with Oktay Rifat and Melih Cevdet, founded the Garip Movement.
Orhan Veli's father was a conductor of the Presidential Symphony Orchestra. His younger brother, Adnan Veli, was a well known journalist whose prison memoirs, (he was incarcerated on political charges) "Mahpushane Cesmesi (The Prison Fountain)" was published in 1952. He studied in Istanbul University's philosophy Department for only one year before leaving school in 1935. He was employed by the Ministry of Education as a translator from 1945 to 1947. The remaining three years of his life he worked as a freelance translator and journalist.
He is known for advocating a poetry without excessive stylistic elements and adjectives, and prefers a style closer to free-verse. He is known for his unique voice, and depth of emotion underlying the seemingly easy-coming nature of his verse. His poetry is highly admired by the public as well as in academic circles.
Contents |
[edit] Works
- Garip (Together with Oktay Rifat and Melih Cevdet, 1941)
- Garip (1945)
- Vazgeçemediğim (1945)
- Destan Gibi (1946)
- Yenisi (1947)
- Karşı (1949)
- Collected Poems (1951, 1975)
[edit] Some Poems
I AM LISTENING TO ISTANBUL
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed:
At first there is a gentle breeze
And the leaves on the trees
Softly sway;
Out there, far away,
The bells of water-carriers unceasingly ring;
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed;
Then suddenly birds fly by,
Flocks of birds, high up, with a hue and cry,
While the nets are drawn in the fishing grounds
And a woman's feet begin to dabble in the water.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
The Grand Bazaar's serene and cool,
An uproar at the hub of the Market,
Mosque yards are full of pigeons.
While hammers bang and clang at the docks
Spring winds bear the smell of sweat;
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed;
Still giddy from the revelries of the past,
A seaside mansion with dingy boathouses is fast asleep.
Amid the din and drone of southern winds, reposed,
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
A pretty girl walks by on the sidewalk:
Four-letter words, whistles and songs, rude remarks;
Something falls out of her hand -
It is a rose, I guess.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
A bird flutters round your skirt;
On your brow, is there sweet? Or not ? I know.
Are your lips wet? Or not? I know.
A silver moon rises beyond the pine trees:
I can sense it all in your heart's throbbing.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
[edit] FOR FREE
We are living for free;
The air is for free, the clouds are for free.
Hills and dales are for free;
Rain and mud are for free;
The outside of cars,
The entrance to movie houses,
The store windows are for free;
It is not the same as bread and cheese,
But salt water is for free;
Freedom will cost you your life,
But slavery is for free;
We are living for free,
For free.
- Translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat, 1989 [1]
[edit] THE SONG OF ISTANBUL
In Istanbul, on the Bosphorus,
I am poor Orhan Veli;
I am the son of Veli
With indescribable sadness.
I am sitting by the shore of Rumeli,
I am sitting and singing a song:
``The marble hills of Istanbul,
Landing on my head, oh, landing are the sea gulls;
Hot, homesick tears fill
My eyes,
My Eda,
Full or airs, my Karma,
the fountain salt
Of all my tears.
In the middle of Istanbul movie houses,
My mother won't hear of my exile;
Others kiss
And tell
And make love,
but what's that to me?
My lover,
My fever,
oh, my bubonic river.
In Istanbul, on the Bosphorus,
I am the stranger Orhan Veli,
The son of Veli
With indescribable sadness.
- Translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat, 1989 [2]
[edit] GOSSIP
You are one kind of beauty
Before the mirror,
Another
In bed;
Forget gossip,
Get dressed,
Put on your mascara,
Come down to the coffee shop
In the early evening
To spite everybody.
People will talk,
Let them;
Aren't we lovers?
- Translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat, 1989 [3]
EPITAPH I
He suffered from nothing in the world
The way he suffered from his corns;
He didn't even feel so badly
About having been created ugly.
Thought he wouldn't utter the Lord's name
Unless his shoe pinched,
He couldn't be considered a sinner either.
It's a pity Süleyman Efendi had to die.
EPITAPH II
For him "To be or not to be"
Was no problem at all;
He went to sleep one night
And just didn't wake up again.
They came and carried him away;
He was washed, prayed for and buried.
When his creditors hear of his death,
They'll surely release him of his debts.
As for the money owed to him,
Well, nobody owed the poor soul a penny
EPITAPH III
They put his rifle back in the depot
And gave his uniform to some other man.
No more bread crumbs in his kit-bag
Nor lip-marks on his canteen.
Such was the gust of wind
It carried him off his feet,
Not even his name was remembered.
Just a couplet he scribbled was left
On the wall of the mess hall:
"Death is God's will,
But if only there were no parting."
- All poems above is translated and publised in English by Talat Sait Halman.
[edit] External links
- Just for the Hell of It—a website with many of Orhan Veli's poems, as translated by Talat Sait Halman
- Poems By Orhan Veli—a website with Orhan Veli's poems, as translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat
- Official Web Site—official web site of Orhan Veli Kanik
