The Great Humanity

The great humanity is the deck-passenger on the ship
third class on the train
on foot on the causeway
the great humanity.
The great humanity goes to work at eight
marries at twenty
dies at forty
the great humanity.
There is enough bread for all except the great humanity
it is the same for rice
for sugar
for cloth
for books
there is enough for all except the great humanity.
The great humanity has no shade on his soil
no lamp on his road
no glass on his window
but the great humanity has hope
you can’t live without hope.

Nâzım Hikmet Ran


(Picture: Night at sea, Marcus Larson)

You

  You are my enslavement and my freedom
You are my flesh burning like a raw summer night
You are my country
You are the green silks in hazel eyes
You are big, beautiful and triumphant
And you are my sorrow that isn't felt

    the more I feel it.

 

Nâzım Hikmet Ran 

(Picture: fifty days at iliam - the fire that consumes all before it, cy twombly)

The Strangest Creature on Earth

You're like a scorpion, my brother,
you live in cowardly darkness
    like a scorpion.
You're like a sparrow, my brother,
always in a sparrow's flutter.
You're like a clam, my brother,
closed like a clam, content,
And you're frightening, my brother,
    like the mouth of an extinct volcano.

I love you

I kneel down: I look at the earth,
the grass,
insects,
little stems blooming with blues.
You are like the spring earth, my love,
I'm looking at you.
I lie on my back: I see the sky,
the branches of a tree,
storks on the wing,
a waking dream.

The walnut tree

my head foaming clouds, sea inside me and out
I am a walnut tree in Gulhane Park
an old walnut, knot by knot, shred by shred
Neither you are aware of this, nor the police
I am a walnut tree in Gulhane Park
My leaves are nimble, nimble like fish in water
My leaves are sheer, sheer like a silk handkerchief
pick, wipe, my rose, the tear from your eyes
My leaves are my hands, I have one hundred thousand
I touch you with one hundred thousand hands, I touch Istanbul
My leaves are my eyes, I look in amazement
I watch you with one hundred thousand eyes, I watch Istanbul
Like one hundred thousand hearts, beat, beat my leaves
I am a walnut tree in Gulhane Park
neither you are aware of this, nor the police

Nâzım Hikmet Ran


(Picture: In the park, Aleksey Savrasov)

On living

I

Living is no laughing matter:

               you must live with great seriousness

                               like a squirrel, for example--

   I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,

                               I mean living must be your whole occupation.

Living is no laughing matter:

               you must take it seriously,

               so much so and to such a degree

   that, for example, your hands tied behind your back,

                                            your back to the wall,

   or else in a laboratory

               in your white coat and safety glasses,

               you can die for people--

   even for people whose faces you've never seen,

   even though you know living

               is the most real, the most beautiful thing.

A sad state of freedom

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;
you are free to slave for others--
you are free to make the rich richer.

The moment you're born
they plant around you
mills that grind lies
lies to last you a lifetime.
You keep thinking in your great freedom
a finger on your temple
free to have a free conscience.

Some Advice To Those Who Will Serve Time In Prison

 













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 you do ten or fifteen years
          apart from the time you have left,
you won't say,
              "Better I had swung from the end of a rope
                                              like a flag" --
You'll put your foot down and live.
It may not be a pleasure exactly,
but it's your solemn duty
           to live one more day
                         to spite the enemy.
Part of you may live alone inside,
             like a tone at the bottom of a well.