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No: 102,  Septembre - Eylül - September 2018

[photo: ergun tavlan / murat üstübal]
1212 hidjri - Gümüşhane [in İzzet Koyunoğlu Museum / Konya - No: 14187]

Ene Medinetü'l ilmi ve aliyyun babuha ya ali mûtu kable en temutu.

Je suis la cité de savoir, Ali en est la porte. O Ali! Mourez avant de mourir.

Ben ilmin şehriyim, Ali de kapısıdır. Ey Ali, ölmeden evvel ölünüz.

I am city of science, Ali is the door. O Ali! Die (yourself) before death.
Samedi, 03 Décembre 2011 00:12

I am not a fighter but a rose grower

-------------------- translated by ender gürol

There! The spring is in once again;
my hair exposed to winds,
hail! I say to the Earth where I’m in exile;
Hail! The home
of insects, volcanoes, winds and oceans.
Our little garden,
the planet where I was born,
I am looking at the calendar: it’s March,
yet I am hit against April.
If you want to know the name of the beauty
---------- with whom I exchange kisses, it’s May.
It was I who had planted the rose bushes
-------------------- flirting now with stars.
For I am not a fighter but a rose grower.

I am strolling on
---------- the frozen northern sea.
Drilling the ice with their steel drills
---------- the Swedes hunt fish in a state of sleep.
The March sun, stretching its hand out from
---------- half open clouds, pulls our hair:
over my head hover ‘dark thoughts’ about the world;
I am afraid of man’s ferocity,
---------- Of weapons,
---------- ---------- wars and religions…

If one day I lose
---------- all hope from ‘human’ beings,
---------- ---------- bury me in this poem;
for, I am not a fighter but a rose grower.

Do you know another planet
---------- smelling of tea and apples?
Are you the master of
---------- volcanoes and rainbows? No!
You’re but a passing visitor upon this Earth
---------- with a return ticket in your pocket.
You’ll be kissed by God some day
---------- ---------- ------ on an abyss.
There’s a city among the clouds, there
---------- ---------- ------ shall you go.
I happen to be a tiny cell of nature, brother to
ants, butterflies, trees, stars and waters.

‘G’ stands for the gullet of the city
‘e’ is more feminine that ‘a’
‘C’ can not be any one else than Cemal Süreyya.
‘I’ ? Who is he?
-Ilhan Berk, surely
Making his rounds at Bodrum
---------- in his car of poems.
carrying in his pocket ‘Fields of words.’
K. known to everybody : Kerim
my son
the handsomest of all the lads in the world
13 years old
abandoned tennis
to write criticisms on books
---------- Salihli is the district,
where the mountains are purple
must be blossoming now
---------- --------------- in clusters.
In the International Fair of İzmir
---------- sailors are strolling with lilacs on their heads
instead ordinary caps;
---------- high school girls
---------- -------- chatter about their boyfriends…
There! A kiss out of the blue
---------- -------- hardly ever to be forgotten
--- and
--- --- fugitive.

I have a secret date
---------- with a pigeon, its back buried
in the valley: our house
---------- is a dried river bed
the evening becomes color of rose
---------- as we exchange  kisses.
O the sunset!
---------- It’s a plot anyhow;
while love is to get enrolled to life
You know what you should do? Just go!
Befriend a mountain range,
stand trial with the birds!

For, a bird
---------- does not move aside its voice
to avoid colliding with the spring.

There! Spring again;
---------- my hair exposed to the winds,
Hail I say to the Earth
where I am but an exile.

It was I who had planted the rose bushes
---------- flirting now with stars.
For I am not a fighter but a grower of roses.


-------------------- iç. "Bir Irmakla Düello Ediyorum", Oğlak Yay., 1995

Samedi, 03 Décembre 2011 00:03

mozart and mediterranean

-------------------- translated by ender gürol

The image of Mozart and the Mediterranean in my pocket,
I am on my way on a violet exile
to become a tenant of mountains and rains.

I am measuring my life in terms of pains, deaths and oceans.
I’ve left endless days behind me full of affection that had revealed me;
Now, with glorious eroticism, I’m washing my wounds in the Atlantic Ocean.

I’m kissing your nipples exposed to the wind
I’m kissing your mouth the most sensual in the world.
For, I am a slave to love and to the scent of rose.

I am as though seated within a double-bass,
my body rent asunder in the poppy fields;
in all my photos rains and sorrow shower.

Mine is a sorrow carried by a yellow street-car;
its wick has the taste of the Amasya apples.
That must be the reason: a sad tune is
my face;
the cigarette between my lips is thinner than the wing of a butterfly.

How you debilitated the splendid young men in prison cells;
we died, we were exiled, but we never surrendered.

A new age is dawning from the spikes of suffering.
Come on! Geometry notebooks and color pencils!
We’ll trace a brand new sky.

Can you feel the stars breathe?
You also have a star and a little sky…
squeezed in between two streets.

A full moon color red wine
swaying to and fro between
the collars of your white shirt.
Hold it! Let your hands turn into pigeons.

The image of Mozart and the Mediterranean in my pocket,
wherever I go I am an exile;
rain and sorrow shower on in all my photographs.

And the exiles have no God.


-------------------- iç. "Mozart ve Akdeniz", Cem Yay., 1992

Lundi, 28 Novembre 2011 11:50

jazz and carnations

-------------------- translated by ender gürol

Humans, carnations, jazz
and the world
reach me having stabbed my portrait.
Whatever was stolen in the small hours of the morning
I am stealing the same
----------------- from the Earth.
Trains pass through my room,
--------- restaurants
----------------- winds
----------------- ----- hissing bullets
and child faces rent asunder
in the uterus
--------- over a blue river.

Were I to depict a river
------------------ -but a blue one-
I’d have depicted I think
all the children
that died of starvation, in wars.

-Who’s then the worst bloody tyrant in history?

All right, you did well
In letting me stretch your belly a little too taut
so that moonlight spurted from my gun;
--------- ours are now all the children of the fall.
Whoever entangled
--------- violets in my beard

whoever is wherever
--------- Wherever I’ve pegged my jacket
--------- Wherever the world has been swirled
I am there swaying in the air
with a scorching heartache
--------- reminiscent
------------------- of a
--------- ----- --------- moaning
--------- ------------- --------- saxophone.
If we consider our world as
------------------- a collection
---------- ------------------- on which are pasted
dried corpses of soldiers
--------- and the burnt bodies of
young men whose hearts had been ripped
out from their bodies
------------------- under torture
--------------------------- there our era is reigning!
there each of us is called ‘Freedom’
------------------- that history will record.

My poetry plunders the world
what I insinuate by words is
the orgasm of rivers and doves.
I kidnap myself
------ through balconies
-------------- that move me away from the Earth.

The plaster of my heart
--------------- - was applied
-------------------------- with the raped
April evenings.
Although my chest
-------- has been rent asunder
by dense maquis
what I offer you
-------- ever morning
-------- -------- is flowery rivers.

An argentine tango on the radio,
you know,
-------- is more proletarian
-------- -------- than its American brother
-------- -------- -------- -------- jazz music.
Born in the brothels of Buenos Aires,
-------- Its father Astor Piazella
-------- -------- is still reigning
-------- -------- as a dirty yellow light thief
in all the Argentinian loves and us.
While I and Astor whose hearts are
-------- -------- somewhat more daring
-------- -------- -------- are asking now:

-Who traced the portrait of the sea on our lips?

I’ve taken up my pen in 1988
-------- -------- as though beginning a poem
dangerous and fugitive. I thought
-------- -------- what would poetry mean
for Huseyin, the grocer?
The juvenile wind and heavy heart
a sweet lie, perhaps.
I wonder where exactly a kilogram of white cheese
might be stored in the heavenly vault?
The feeling might be incomprehensible, but
I fear that barking of dogs may sound no more
-------- -------- -------- -------- in ‘the Star Wars’.
Who would tell about the small town
-------- ----------- asleep in the lap of acacias?
To whom can we describe the bliss one experiences
-------- ----------- while holding in one’s hands
the tiny feet of a newborn.
-------- ----------- Well then, it’s plain

-Peace is life’s fiancé.

Silence everybody! I’m going to sing
----- ---- to the mountains, rocks, trees and rivers
I intend to animate the world
----- ---- just like Australian aborigines
by singing songs.
Silence! If we keep silent,
--------- we might perhaps hear
--------- --------- the dialogues between
--------- --------- --------- the fishermen of Istanbul
and the Chinese philosophers.
--------- We can prick our ears to Prague’s heart
--------- --------- -------- from Bebek
in a misty November afternoon.

Silence! If we keep silent,
We may perhaps see
the rosy breasts of the fiancé bitten by
an infantry soldier from Khorassan while on leave.
A generation annihilated by bullets and in gallows
Is parading before you
--------- S i l e n c e!
A whole generation of victims
parading before you killed with bullets
--------- S i l e n c e!
He was thrown in front of history
--------- as a piece of bloody flesh
--------- ------ We are lying now in a coffin
to the accompaniment of chants,
--------- ------ expectations
------------------ ------ and colorful dreams.
consider my friend

-whose coffin has history been?


-------------------- iç. "Allah ve Tango", Cem Yay., 1990

[in english / ingilizce]

[türkçe / in turkish]
Lundi, 28 Novembre 2011 11:13

love is the venice of us all

-------------------- translated by ender gürol

Poetry is the empire
of betrothed maidens and maquis.
I, who was brought up courting music;
look, I am posing for a river.
This is the reason why cities dreams of me;
this is the reason why I came
after having scythed a street.
The occupation of a room we had taken up
was a sign denoting the impossibility of catching
the ray of light in my exiled heart

-Love is the Venice of us all.

Poetry is more accessible to me
than a sparrow.
Every spot where my mouth begins with the morning
is a den of terrorism of course.
Neither paved roads nor fleets can save me,
a barbarian with a scathing look.
For my heart has been prohibited like a jazz musician from Prague.
Yet it is a land covered with heath, Chagal it is…
the best answer being the irreversibility of sorrow.

-Chagal is the elder brother of us all.

Revolutions, eroticism, plants, birds’ leftovers
and heath reveal us: a bleeding history
is our defense.
When I turn you round to face me clasping you by your hips
is a festivity challenging death.
A poppy in your hand leaning on the sky
you swiftly pass by through a narrow and yellow street;
a narrow street is everybody’s knowledge;
the blue child cannot possibly evade their faces,
run away no matter how hard he tries.

-Children’s faces have no telephone number.

No, nothing
will ever go by without being hit by my words.
Even though my heart is shattered like a barren land
I shall bear witness to you all! To our age!
In some corner of the Earth
my breast is thronged with cranes and
I am dancing to the tune of blustery winds.
Young and tender a morning is my weapon,
whose butt is engraved
with marks of my younger years and of sadness.

-You know, don’t you, İzmir is my diary.


-------------------- iç. "Allah ve Tango", Cem Yay., 1990

Lundi, 28 Novembre 2011 10:17

god and tango

-------------------- translated by ender gürol

I’m a luminous exile;
my house is the bull’s-eye of the world.

Ruffle my hair! Prepare me for love
make a river pass through my teeth.

Swap all the epaulettes
for white doves.

Like splinters of mirrors
we’ll multiply by a series of mutual reflections.

I made this wine from the grapes
that had first seen the sun upon the earth.

I am bathing my words in this wine,
history is in hot pursuit of me.

If history and rivers disentangle me,
here I am! Here are God and the tango!

I’ll be the first émigré,
to grow lettuce on the moon.

I’ll be sending the odor of pine to the world,
if not by letter, then by stars.


I am a luminous exile,
Solitude is my headmaster.

They hung my heart
between Turkey and the world

Who can warm up my youth’s cold valleys
trampled by military trucks rumbled past?

A yellow land is ablaze within me;
I dodge my flushing face from people.

Astor Piazzola raises the sea
with a single tango.

Astor and I we are laying siege on time.
Who has ironed our shirts with sadness, we know not.

Poetry is a pirate may be,
a time thief with a ruddy beard.

Your hips a canary darling,
a den of terror.

Canaries sprout
wherever I kiss

A saxophone climbing to silence hunts us,
and meteorites shoot among us.



-------------------- 1990/Stockholm

-------------------- iç. "Allah ve Tango", Cem Yay., 1990

Mercredi, 16 Novembre 2011 21:56

come again

Mercredi, 20 Avril 2011 19:36

diego - dora the explorer

Lundi, 09 Mai 2011 19:26

happy and crazy

Lundi, 09 Mai 2011 19:29

today is holiday, aren't you happy

Vendredi, 31 Janvier 2014 09:34

impossible / imkansız

[2014- 9 ans / 9 yaşında / 9 years old]
Jeudi, 02 Juillet 2015 21:32


064-3nnBBTV-erdayi oylun davran-_summertime
Vendredi, 29 Juillet 2011 11:42


The basic idea behind Santosha is to be satisfied what we have. This develops as we do; our demands become fewer, our life becomes simpler and so we are more contended. In other words, Santosha is loving what you have got and knowing that the power to do anything with everything you want to do anything with is all in your hands. Santosha is not a state that derives from a particular event or circumstance. It is an inner state of being. Santosha is the breath and spirit of Yoga. Santosha is a stretch in that we have to go beyond our usual limits or definitions of hapiness. In a very common use, to be ‘happy’ is to be satisfied. In this use of the word, ‘happy’ has to do with one’s situation. It also has to do with one’s state of mind; one is glad or cheerful. It typically has to do with both situation and stateof mind (one has the latter because of the former), but the two elements can appear in very different proportions in different cases. Santosha  is the ability to feel satisfied within one's immediate experience. Santosha shouldn't be confused with the ordinary use of happiness that we described above. We can practice santosha even if we are in painful circumstances and we can still find feel contentment. Santosha does not only mean acceptance of the present but it indicates generating the capacity for hopefulness. We should not wait for happiness to come or happen to us, and for happiness to endure, we have to continue creating it moment by moment; otherwise, it is only momentary. So, Santosha is not an easy practice. It is easy for me to be happy when everythin is going in the way that I want. It is not true to be sad or happy with the swing of events. It is easy to experience moments of joy and quite depression. But it is not easy to learn to be “happy within your heart inspide of all circumstances”. This requires strong spiritual effort and focused practice.
Vendredi, 29 Juillet 2011 11:26


Ahimsa is an ethical principle of noninjury to both men and animals. Ahimsa is an ancient concept that began in India about 3600 years ago. The roots of ahimsa are found in the Vedas. However, the concept spread to Jainism and then to the Hindu thought of patanjali. In modern times, the implications of ahimsa were developed in the nonviolence movement of Mohandas Gandhi. Ahimsa has many aspects in Hindu thought. But in this essay I would like to mention its metaphysical and ethical aspects from the yoga point of view. It seems to me that Ahimsa is one of the essential requirements for the spiritual development in Yoga. It is a tool for self-realization. The main idea behind the notion of ahimsa is that “respect for living things”. The metaphysical aspect of this notion can be described as follows: Life is a coherent process leading all souls without exception to enlightenment, and no violence will be carried to this ascent. We are not separate from the world or from the Divine which shines forth in all things and all people. The philosophical basis of ahimsa arises from this understanding of oneness. All life is interrelated, interconnected, interdependent, co-arising and coexisting. There is not the tension between purification of a self and reaching out to others.

In the historical development, the ethical aspect of the notion of ahimsa was developed by Jaina philosophy; and Jaina ethics had an influence on Yoga Sutra. Basically, Jaina ethics evolved out of the rules for the ascetic which served as the model. The basic ascetic rules are encapsulated in the so-called five great vows. The first and foremost of these is nonviolence, which entails total abstinence in thought, word and deed from injury to all life forms. The principle of life is the souls which inhabit atoms, so Jainism emphasizes extreme care with reference not only to plant and animal life forms but also to those in earth, water, fire and air. The vow of nonviolence is extended to include not making another perform acts of violence and not approving them in any way. Jainism’s extreme emphasis on nonviolence is grounded in its metaphysics. Violence is responsible for the maximum amount of karma that can be accumulated by the soul, and since liberation is possible only when karma is completely destroyed, the task is reduced through an avoidance of violent deeds. Physical activity per se is responsible for the accumulation of karma; abstinence from it is symbolized by the famous iconic representations of ascetics standing upright over such long periods that vines grow up their legs - physical control represents the mental control that is also necessary to avoid subtle, inner movement. With the axiom ‘nonviolence is the highest religion’, Jainism summarizes the basis of its ethics and religious life.

From the Yoga point of view, the importance of ahimsa is understood in the quest for self-realization. For Patanjali, ahimsa underlies the restrains of speech (gossip, idle talk, slander etc.); not lying; not stealing; and not grasping or seeking to acquire more than one needs. If one had not developed the moral restrains resting on ahimsa, he/she could not begin to undertake the disciple of yoga.
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