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Can Yücel

AKDENİZ YARAŞIYOR SANA

  • 1 YAPRAK DÖKÜMÜ | Translations: ende
  • 2 BAHARLA ÖLÜM KONUŞMALARI | Translations: ende
  • 3 AKDENİZ YARAŞIYOR SANA | Translations: endefr
  • 4 BELKİM BİR KERTENKELEYİM | Translations: ende
  • 5 SEVGİ DUVARI | Translations: ende
Language: turkish
Translations: english (THE MEDlTERRANEAN IS IN HARMONY WlTH YOU), german (DAS MITTELMEER IST EINS MIT DIR ), french (LA MEDITERRANÉE S’HARMONISE AVEC TOI)
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AKDENİZ YARAŞIYOR SANA

Akdeniz yaraşıyor sana
Yıldızlar terler ya sen de terliyorsun
Aynı ıslak pırıltı burun kanatlarında
Hiç dinmiyor motorların gürültüsü
Köpekler havlıyor uzaktan
Demin bir çocuk ağladı
Fatmanım cumbadan çarşaf silkiyor yine
Ali Dumdum anasına sövüyor saatlerdir
Denizi tokmaklıyor balıkçılar
Bu sesler işte sessizliğini büyüten toprak
O senin sardunyalar gibi konuşkan sessizliğini
Hayatta yattık dün gece
Üstümüzde meltem
Kekik kokuyor ellerim hâlâ
Seninle yatmadım sanki
Dağları dolaştım
Ben senden öğrendim deniz yazmayı
Elimden düşmüyor mavi kalem
Bir tirandil çıkar gibi sefere
Okula gidiyor öğretmenim
Ben de ardından açılıyorum
Bir poyraz çizip deftere
Bir ada var sırf ebabil
Dönüyor dönüyor başımda
Senle yaşadığım günler
Gümüş bir çevre oldu ömrüm
Değişince güneşine
Neden sonra buldum o kaçakçı mağrasını
Gözlerim kamaşınca senden
Ölüm belki sularından kaçırdığım
O loş suda yıkanmaktır
Durdukça yosundan yeşil
Kulaç attıkça mavi
Ben düzde sanırdım yıkıntım
Örenim alkolik âsarım
Mutun doruğundaymışım meğer
Senle çıkınca anladım
Eski Yunan atları var hani
Yeleleri büklümlü
Gün inerken de öyle
Ağaçtan iz düşümleriyle
Yürüyor Balan Tepeleri
Yürüyor bölük bölük can
Toplu bir güzelliğe doğru
Kadınım
Yaraşıyorsun sen Akdenize

© Can Yücel

Translations:

Language: english

THE MEDlTERRANEAN IS IN HARMONY WlTH YOU

The Mediterranean is in harmony with you
The stars sweat and you are sweating too
The same wet sparkle is on your nostrils
The noise of the motor boats does not stop
The dogs bark in the distance
A moment ago a child cried
A sheet is being shaken out from Fatma's window
Ali Dumdum is swearing for hours on end
The fishermen beat the sea
These sounds are like the earth swelling the silence
It is the silence garrulous of your geraniums

We lay on the veranda last night
the offshore summer breeze above us
My hands still smell of thyme
It was as though I didn't sleep with you
but was wandering the mountains

I learned from you how to write of the sea
The blue pencil is always in my hand
Like a fishing boat goes out on a trip
my teacher wife goes to school
I open out behind her
tracing a north wind in my exercise book
There is an island that is just shearwaters
it turns and turns in my head
The days I've lived with you
became a silver circle
when your sun touched my life

I found at last that smugglers' cave
as you dazzled my eyes open
Death is perhaps like washing
in those dark waters stolen from you,
greener than seaweed when still,
but blue after blue soaring with every fathom
I thought my losses, my débris, my alcoholic works
all belonged to this flat world
How was I to know I was on the peak of my happiness
I understood when I went out with you
You know those ancient Greek horses
with their curly manes
the trees with their projections are like them
when the day turns to evening
The Balan Peaks march
companies of souls march
towards the wholeness of beauty

My woman
you are in harmony with the Mediterranean

Translated by Richard McKane and Feyyaz Kayacan Fergar
Language: german

DAS MITTELMEER IST EINS MIT DIR

Das Mittelmeer ist eins mit dir,
die Sterne schwitzen – und auch du.
Das gleiche feuchte Glitzern auf deinen Nasenflügeln,
nie verstummt der Krach der Motorboote,
von weitem Hundegebell,
vorhin weinte ein Kind.
Wieder schüttelt meine Fatma das Laken aus dem Erker aus,
seit Stunden flucht Ali Dumdum auf Gott und die Welt,
die Fischer schlagen aufs Meer ein.
Das sind sie, die Geräusche,
da ist die Erde, die die Stille vermehrt,
die Stille – geschwätzig wie deine Geranien.
Auf der Veranda schliefen wir, letzte Nacht,
über uns der Sommerwind.
Meine Hände duften noch nach Thymian,
als hätte ich nicht mit dir geschlafen,
als wäre ich durchs Gebirge gewandert.

Von dir lernte ich, das Meer zu beschreiben,
der blaue Stift fällt mir nicht aus der Hand,
wie ein Fischerboot bricht er zur Reise auf,
meine Lehrerin geht zur Schule,
kaum ist sie fort, atme ich auf, auch ich.
Ein Wind aus Nordost zeichnet das Heft,
eine Insel – ein Vogelschwarm nur,
schwirrt mir durch den Kopf..
Als ich mit dir zusammenlebte,
wurde mein Leben zum silbernen Kreis,
mit deiner Sonne vertauscht.

Nach einer Weile fand ich die Schmugglerhöhle,
meine Augen geblendet von dir.
Der Tod – vielleicht ein Bad im trägen Wasser
deiner Gewässer, die ich dir geraubt.
Steht es still, wird es grüner als Moos,
wellt es sich, wird es blau in der Tiefe.

Meinen Ruin wähnte ich an Land,
meine Trümmer, meine Trunksucht.
Wähnte ich mich auf dem Gipfel des Glücks,
wenn mit dir ich hinausging, begriff ich:
Da sind sie doch – da! –
die Rosse der Griechen von einst,
mit wallenden Mähnen,
und so war es, wenn der Tag sich neigte,
mit den Bildern der Bäume
wandern die Hügel von Balan,
wandern die Seelen, Kompanie um Kompanie,
zur Schönheit an sich,
meine Frau –
du bist eins mit dem Meer.

Aus dem Türkischen von Monica Carbe
Language: french

LA MEDITERRANÉE S’HARMONISE AVEC TOI

La méditerranée s’harmonise avec toi
Les étoiles transpirent et tu transpires aussi comme elles
Tu as la même lueur humide sur les ailes du nez
Le bruit des moteurs ne cesse jamais
Les chiens aboient au loin
Un enfant vient de pleurer
Fatma Hanim secoue encore les draps du balcon
Les pêcheurs pilonnent la mer
Ces bruits voilà la terre qui accroît son silence
Son silence bavard comme celui de tes géraniums
Nous avons dormi dans le vestibule ouvert cette nuit
Avec la brise soufflant sur nous
Mes mains sentent encore le thyme
On dirait que je n’ai pas couché avec toi
Je me suis promené dans les montagnes
C’est de toi que j’ai appris écrire la mer
J’ai toujours le crayon bleu à la main
Mon institutrice va à l’école
Comme un bateau de pêche qui part
Et je prends le large derrière elle
en traçant un vent du Nord sur le cahier
Il y a une île- juste un martinet noir-
qui tourne et tourne dans ma tête
Ma vie est devenue un cercle d’argent
Quand elle a touché ton soleil
Comme tu m’avais ébloui les yeux
J’ai trouvé cette grotte du contrebandier après longtemps
La mort est peut-être un bain dans l’eau sombre
que j’ai enlevée de tes eaux
Une eau plus verte que l’algue tant qu’elle est stagnante
Une eau bleue tant qu’elle nage la brasse
Je croyais que mon débris ma ruine mon alcoolisme
se trouvaient sur un terrain plat
Or tout cela se trouvait au sommet du bonheur
Je l’ai appris quand j’ai commencé à sortir avec toi
Tu connais les anciens chevaux grecs aux crinières bouclées
Les hauteurs de Balan marchent avec leurs projections
Tout comme cela arrive au moment où le jour tombe
Les âmes marchent par troupes
Vers une beauté intrinsèque
Ma femme
Tu t’harmonises avec la Méditerranée

Traduit par: Avunç, Yaşar
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Can Yücel

* 21.08.1926, Istanbul, Turkey
† 12.08.1999, Datça, Muğla, Turkey

Can Yücel is one of the most distinguished of 20th century Turkish poets. He was born in Istanbul as the son of wellknown former minister of National Education, Hasan Ali Yücel. He studied Latin and Greek at the University of Ankara, Turkey and later at the University of Cambridge.

He worked as a translator in several embassies and was for almost five years a programme assistant in the Turkish Section of the BBC in London. On his return to Turkey he was sentenced to fifteen years for translating works by Che Guevera and Mao. He was released within two years because of a general amnesty.

He then lived in Istanbul working as a freelance translator and poet. He was married and father of two daughters. In his later years he settled in the remote peninsular town of Datça, Muğla in southwestern Turkey. He died in Datça in 1999 and is buried there.

Yücel was a man of vast knowledge and culture, as well as keen political and social awareness. He is a superb translator of Shakespeare, Eliot, Dylan Thomas and the Greek combination epigrammatic poets. His poetry thrives on a strong combination of lrycism, warm irony and sarcasm. This quality is especially evident in his ‘Poems of a Political Prisoner’ (1974). His other important collections are ‘Wall ot Love’ (1973), ‘Death and My Son’ (1976), ‘The Music ot Colours’ (1982), ‘The Steep Heaven’ (l984), ‘Life Offering’ (l988) and ‘The Child Colours the Man’ (l988).

Can Yücel has earned himself a leading place in today's Turkish Poetry as a man who upholds what is bright and what gives hope and courage to life. His translations of Shakespeare's ‘Midsummer Night's Dream’ and ‘The Tempest’ were successfully staged in Turkey and are considered as turning points in the life of the Turkish theatre and social awareness.

Publications
  • Düzünden : düz yazilar 1

    Istanbul: Papirüs Yayinlari, 1994

  • Güle güle

    İstanbul : Papirüs Yayınları, 1995

  • Can’dan yazılar

    İstanbul : Papirüs Yayınları, 1995

  • Seke seke

    İstanbul : Papirüs, 1997

  • Maaile

    İstanbul : Papirüs, 1997

  • Gezintiler

    İstanbul : Papirüs, 1997

  • Bir siyasinin şiirleri

    İstanbul : Papirüs Yayınları, 1997

  • Çok bi çocuk

    İstanbul : Papirüs, 1998

  • Gece vardiyası albümü

    İstanbul : Papirüs Yayınları, 1998

  • Ölüm ve oğlum

    İstanbul : Papirüs, 1998

  • Mekânım datça olsun

    İstanbul : Bulut Yayin Dagitim, 1999

  • Yazma, sevgi duvarı

    İstanbul : Papirüs, 1999

  • Canfeda

    İstanbul: Papirüs Yayınları, 1999

  • Alavara

    İstanbul: Doğan Kitapçılık, 2004

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