as a child he never plucked the wings off flies
he didn't tie tin cans to cats' tails
or lock beetles in matchboxes
or stomp anthills
...
The hair falling on your forehead
suddenly lifted.
Suddenly something stirred on the ground.
The trees are whispering
...
1
I carved your name on my watchband
with my fingernail.
Where I am, you know,
...
You waste the attention of your eyes,
the glittering labour of your hands,
and knead the dough enough for dozens of loaves
of which you'll taste not a morsel;
...
it's 1962 March 28th
I'm sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train
night is falling
I never knew I liked
...
To overcome lies in the heart, in the streets, in the books
from the lullabies of the mothers
to the news report that the speaker reads,
...
I stand in the advancing light,
my hands hungry, the world beautiful.
My eyes can't get enough of the trees--
...
The knight of immortal youth
at the age of fifty found his mind in his heart
and on July morning went out to capture
the right, the beautiful, the just.
...
If instead of being hanged by the neck
you're thrown inside
for not giving up hope
in the world, your country, your people,
...
If half my heart is here, doctor,
the other half is in China
with the army flowing
toward the Yellow River.
...
You are my drunkenness...
I did not sober up, as if I can do that;
I don't want to anyway.
...
Taut, thick fingers punch
the teeth of my typewriter.
Three words are down on paper
in capitals:
...
Sometimes, I, too, tell the ah's
of my heart one by one
like the blood-red beads
of a ruby rosary strung
...
I have no silver-saddled horse to ride,
no inheritance to live on,
neither riches no real-estate --
a pot of honey is all I own.
...
I was born in 1902
I never once went back to my birthplace
I don't like to turn back
at three I served as a pasha's grandson in Aleppo
...
I come and stand at every door
But none can hear my silent tread
I knock and yet remain unseen
For I am dead for I am dead
...
You're like a scorpion, my brother,
you live in cowardly darkness
like a scorpion.
You're like a sparrow, my brother,
...
Nâzım Hikmet Ran (15 January 1902 – 3 June 1963), commonly known as Nâzım Hikmet (Turkish pronunciation: [naːˈzɯm hicˈmet] ( listen)) was a Turkish poet, playwright, novelist, screenwriter, director and memoirist. He was acclaimed for the "lyrical flow of his statements". Described as a "romantic communist"and "romantic revolutionary", he was repeatedly arrested for his political beliefs and spent much of his adult life in prison or in exile. His poetry has been translated into more than fifty languages. According to Nâzım Hikmet, he was of paternal Turkish and maternal German, Polish, Georgian, Circassian and French descent. Nâzım Hikmet's mother came from a distinguished, cosmopolitan family with predominantly Circassian (Adyghe) roots, along with high social position and relations to Polish nobility. From his father's side, he had Turkish heritage. His father, Hikmet Bey, was the son of Çerkes Nâzım Pasha, after whom Nâzım Hikmet was named. His mother, Ayşe Celile Hanım, was of 3/8 Circassian, 2/8 Polish, 1/8 Serbian, 1/8 German, 1/8 French (Huguenot) ancestry. Nazım’s maternal grandfather, Hasan Enver Pasha, was the son of Polish Mustafa Celalettin Pasha and Saffet Hanım who was born to Serbian Omar Pasha and Circassian Adviye Hanım (daughter of Çerkes Hafız Pasha). Mustafa Celalettin Pasha (born Konstanty Borzęcki herbu Półkozic) authored "Les Turcs anciens et modernes" in Constantinople (present-day Istanbul), in 1869. This is considered one of the first works of national Turkist political thought. Nâzım Hikmet's maternal grandmother, Leyla Hanım, was the daughter of Mehmet Ali Pasha, of French (Huguenot) and German origin, and Circassian Ayşe Sıdıka Hanım who was also a daughter of Çerkes Hafız Pasha.His uncle, Enver Celalettin Pasha, was a member of the Ottoman Army General Staff. Nâzım Hikmet and Celile Hanım's cousins include Oktay Rifat Horozcu, a leading Turkish poet, and the statesman Ali Fuat Cebesoy, among others.)
Optimistic Man
as a child he never plucked the wings off flies
he didn't tie tin cans to cats' tails
or lock beetles in matchboxes
or stomp anthills
he grew up
and all those things were done to him
I was at his bedside when he died
he said read me a poem
about the sun and the sea
about nuclear reactors and satellites
about the greatness of humanity
by Hikmet, in Italian: ''Il più bello dei mari'' Il più bello dei mari è quello che non navigammo. Il più bello dei nostri figli non è ancora cresciuto. I più belli dei nostri giorni non li abbiamo ancora vissuti. E quello che vorrei dirti di più bello non te l'ho ancora detto. - Nazim Hikmet
this really silly people who actually doesnt know about the poet and find the right to comment. Nazim died in russia because he was had a banishment in turkey, he was a acommunist, and if he would stay there he had to live in prison for the rest of his life. his poems always includes the homesickness of turkey.just read memleketim he fought for turkish people and their rights, unfortunate for turkey, the goverment was very idiot and threaten him. yeah he comes from a greek grandfather, but in those times greece was in ottoman's land. so your point is all wrong i please chech before commenting.
Sorry Slyva, but I have to ask what the heck you are talking about. How come was Nazim Hikmet Ran Greek? What kind of a history and greek made-up character are you trying to create? Get your facts straight. Please. Here's a google for this. Good luck!
Sylvia this is a breathtakingly silly statement. As Nazim wrote in Turkish and left behind a huge body of work in the Turkish language the debate over his ancestry (he had partial Polish ancestry by the way) is just plain wrong. Nobody can Turkify a poet who wrote exceptionally well in that language. I really feel you should withdraw that statement as it really is meaningless in the context of late Ottoman, modern Turkish and Greek history. But one question: Can you point out anybody on this planet who does not have what you call mixed blood (the nasty rascist connotations of the phrase should not be overlooked) ....
Nazim Hikmet: Had a mixed blood... Was Greek and not Turkish He died in Russia in exile...Turkis they Turkify every one