Translated Turkish Quotes

In my heart, I knew that Whorf was right. I knew I thought differently in Turkish and English - not because thought and language were the same, but because different languages forced you to think about different things. Turkish, for example, had a suffix, -mis, that you put on verbs to report anything you didn't witness personally. You were always stating your degree of subjectivity. You were always thinking about it, every time you opened your mouth. The suffix -mis had not exact English equivalent. It could be translated as "it seems" or "I heard" or "apparently." I associated it with Dilek, my cousin on my father's side - tiny, skinny, dark-complexioned Dilek, who was my age but so much smaller. "You complained-mis to your mother," Dilek would tell me in her quiet, precise voice. "The dog scared-mis you." "You told-mis your parents that if Aunt Hulya came to America, she could live in your garage." When you heard -mis, you knew that you had been invoked in your absence - not just you but your hypocrisy, cowardice, and lack of generosity. Every time I heard -mis, I felt caught out. I was scared of the dogs. I did complain to my mother, often. The -mis tense was one of the things I complained to my mother about. My mother thought it was funny.

The unfortunate part is that you, my dear friend, will never know, and I shall never be able to tell you, how what you say to me is translated inside me. You did not speak Turkish, no. We both employed, you and I, the same language, the same words. But is it our fault, yours and mine, if words in themselves are empty? Empty, my dear friend. You fill them with your meaning, as you speak them to me; while I, in taking them in, inevitably fill them with my own. We thought we understood each other; we did not understand each other at all.

Hurt strengthens the heart, Breakdown emboldens backbone. Scars shared are scars cared, I stand ready to sip your poison.

Ölümün insanoğlunun başına gelen iyiliklerin en iyisi olup olmadığını kimse bilmiyor, ama güya başa gelebilecek en büyük kötülük olduğunu sandıklarından ondan korkuyorlar. . . . Bu yüzden, kötü olduklarını bildiğim kötülükler arasından, ne olduklarını tam bilemediğim için iyi olma potansiyeli taşıyanlarından hiçbir zaman korkmayacak ve onlardan kaçmayacağım.

I love, therefore I live.

...az kalsın ona içlerinde kelimenin tam manasıyla yalnız kalabilmeyi özlediğim karanlık ve boş odalarımı anlatacaktım; ah ümidini hiç yitirmeyen sefil yürek...

Çünkü melek dediğin kendini sıkı sıkı dizginleyen bir köpek balığından başka bir şey değildir.

Happiness shared is happiness sacred, happiness hoarded is happiness wasted.

İlk olarak, dünyanın gökyüzünün ortasında bulunduğuna ve yuvarlak olduğuna inanıyorum. Bulunduğu yerde durması ve düşmemesi için ne havaya ne de başka bir desteğe ihtiyaç duyar. -Sokrates

Sadık bir dostu reddetmek, bence kendi kendimizi hayatın en aziz bildiğimiz bir parçasından yoksun bırakmaktır. ...Çünkü güvenilir insan zamanla anlaşılır, hainin foyası bir günde çıkar meydana...

Söz konusu dokumacı, bir sürü elbise dokuyup onları eskittikten çok sonra, ama son elbisesinden önce ölür. Bu söylediğim, adamın o son elbisesinden daha kısa ömürlü ve daha güçsüz olduğunu göstermez. Bu düşünce ruhla beden için de ifade edilebilir. Onlar hakkında da, bedenin güçsüz ve kısa ömürlü, ruhunsa uzun ömürlü olduğu ve özellikle uzun süre var olması durumunda birçok beden eskittiği söylenebilir.

— Bence de olaylar anlattığım gibi Kebes ve böyle düşünmekle aldanmış değiliz. Yeniden doğuş var, canlılar ölülerden doğar, ölülerin ruhları yok olmaz ve iyi ruhları iyi, kötü ruhları da kötü bir talih bekler.

Sanki bazı sessiz gecelerde uzaklarda çalan davulların çarpıntısı, yükselen ve alçalan, hem engin hem de belli belirsiz titreşim duyulabiliyordu; garip, insana hitap eden, davetkar ve vahşi bir sesti bu, ama sanki Hristiyan bir ülkedeki çan sesleri kadar derine işleyen bir anlama sahipti.

Bedenimiz var olduğu ve ruhumuz onun gibi bir kötülükle yoğrulmuş halde bulunduğu sürece, hiçbir şekilde arzuladığımız, gerçek adını verdiğimiz şeye bizi tatmin edecek kadar sahip olamayacağız. . . . Savaşlar, isyanlar ve çatışmalar bedenle onun istekleri yüzünden çıkmıyor mu? Göründüğü kadarıyla, arzuladığımız ve aşığı olduğumuzu iddia ettiğimiz sağduyuya, yaşadığımız süre içinde değil, ancak öldükten sonra kavuşabiliriz. . . . Çünkü ruh sadece o zaman bedenden ayrılma imkanını bulabilir, daha önce değil. Bedenin basiretsizliğinden kurtulup arındığımızda, arınmış varlıklarla birlikte olacağız ve kendi imkanlarımızla arınmış bilgiye ulaşacağız.

Dev gibi bir adamla bir cücenin, çok büyük bir köpekle çok küçük bir köpeğin ya da [uç özelliklere sahip] herhangi başka bir şeyin ne kadar nadir olduğunu bir düşünsene! Aşırı hızlı ve yavaş, güzel ve çirkin, ak ve kara ile de böyle değil mi? Her zaman uçların nadir ve az, aradaki durumların ise çok ve sık göründüğünü bilmez misin?

Her zaman güzel öten kuğular, ölümlerinin yaklaştığını hissettiklerinde, belki de hizmetinde bulundukları tanrının yanına gideceklerine sevindiklerinden, daha çok ve daha güzel ötmeye başlarlar. Ama insanlar ölümden korktukları için kuğulara iftira atarak, üzüntülerinden öttüklerini, yaklaşan ölümleri için ağıt yaktıklarını söylerler.

İlk olarak, dünyanın gökyüzünün ortasında bulunduğuna ve yuvarlak olduğuna inanıyorum. Bulunduğu yerde durması ve düşmemesi için ne havaya ne de başka bir desteğe ihtiyaç duyar. -Sokratesİlk olarak, dünyanın gökyüzünün ortasında bulunduğuna ve yuvarlak olduğuna inanıyorum. Bulunduğu yerde durması ve düşmemesi için ne havaya ne de başka bir desteğe ihtiyaç duyar. -Sokrates

Biliyor musun ne düşünüyorum?" diyor sonra, "İnsan denen şey, anılarını yakıt olarak kullanıp yaşamını sürdürüyor olamaz mı acaba? O anıların gerçekte önemli olup olmadığının, yaşamın sürdürülmesi açısından hiçbir önemi yok. Sadece yakıt. İster gazetenin reklam broşürü olsun, isterse felsefe yazıları; ister pornografik fotoğraflar olsun, isterse on bin yenlik kağıt para desteleri; ateşe verdiğinde hepsi sadece bir kağıt parçası değil midir? Ateş, ‘Aa, bu Kant!’ ya da ‘Bu Yomiuri gazetesinin akşam baskısı’ veya ‘Vay, ne güzel memeler bunlar böyle’ diye düşünerek yakmaz onları. Ateşe göre bunların hepsi kağıt parçasından başka bir şey değildir. İşte tam da böyle. Önemli anılar, çok önemli anılar ve hiçbir önemi olmayan anılar… hepsi sadece ve sadece yakıt.” “Biliyor musun, eğer o yakıt bende olmasaydı, eğer içimde anı çekmecem gibi bir şey var olmasaydı, çok uzum zaman önce pat diye yıkılır giderdim, darmadağın olurdum. Bir hendekte kıvrılıp kalır, orada öylece ölürdüm herhalde. Önemli olsun ya da olmasın bir sürü anıyı gerektiğinde çekmeceden çıkarabildiğim için, kabus gibi de olsa yaşamaya devam edebildim, kendimce yaşayabiliyorum. Artık bundan fazlasına katlanamam dediğim zamanları da bu sayede aşıyorum.

Ruh için bir felaket olan bu ölümü ve bu dağılmayı kimse bilemez. Durum dediğimiz gibiyse, ölüm karşısına güvenle çıkmak yanlıştır, çünkü ruhun her açıdan ölümsüz ve yıpranmaz olduğu kanıtlanmadıkça bu güven aptallıktan başka bir şey değildir. Ruhun ölümsüzlüğü kanıtlanmadığı sürece, ölmek üzere olan insanlar ruhları için korkmalı, bu seferki ayrılışla bedenlerinin kesin olarak yok olmasından çekinmelidirler.

— O halde, hayatta olandan ne doğar? — Ölüm. — Ya ölü olandan ne doğar? — Hayatın doğduğunu itiraf etmek zorundayım. — Demek ki canlılar ve hayat ölülerden doğar Kebes. . . . Öyleyse ölülerin yaşayanlardan meydana geldiğini kabul ettiğimiz gibi, yaşayanların da ölülerden meydana geldiği noktasında da anlaştık. Vardığımız bu anlaşma doğruysa, ölülerin ruhlarının bir yerlerde bulunduğunu ve oradan yeniden hayata döndüğünü kanıtlamak için yeterli bir delildir.

— Şimdiden herhangi bir yükümlülük altına girmeseniz bile, kendinize iyi bakarsanız hem bana, hem sevdiklerinize, hem de kendinize en büyük iyiliği yapmış olursunuz. Kendinizi ihmal eder ve şimdi ya da daha önce konuştuklarımıza uygun yaşamayı reddederseniz, şu an bana vereceğiniz sözlerin hiçbir anlamı kalmayacak. — Söylediklerini yerine getirmek için elinden geleni yapacağız, dedi Kriton. Ama cenazeni nasıl kaldırmamızı istersin? — Nasıl isterseniz öyle kaldırın. Yeter ki beni sıkı tutun ve sakın elinizden kaçırmayın.

I'll tell you plainly - I don't believe in a supreme being, but if you do, and your belief helps you be a better human, I'll fight for your belief till my last breath. But if your belief is your excuse for intolerance and fanaticism, then you're my child, and I am your judgment. The same goes for those intellectual buffoons who take logic as licence to condescension. Militant atheists and religious fundamentalists are both animal retards - they belong in a museum of medieval and modern artifacts, not on civilized streets.

Sonnet of Languages Turkish is the language of love, Spanish is the language of revolution. Swedish is the language of resilience, English is the language of translation. Portuguese is the language of adventure, German is the language of discipline. French is the language of passion, Italian is the language of cuisine. With over 7000 languages in the world, Handful of tongues fall short in a sonnet. But you can rest assured of one thing, Every language does something the very best. Each language is profoundly unique in its own way. When they come together, they light the human way.

Bazılarının "insan düşmanı" olması gibi biz de "düşünce düşmanı" olmayalım, çünkü düşüncelerden nefret etmek kadar kötü bir şey olamaz. Aslında düşünce düşmanlığı da insan düşmanlığının olduğu şartlarda ortaya çıkar. İnsan düşmanlığı, insanlar hakkında yeterli bilgiye sahip olmadan bir insana sonsuz güven duyup, onu kesinlikle doğru, düzgün ve güvenilir sandıktan sonra kurnaz, güvenilmez ve sandığımızdan farklı olduğunun anlaşılmasıyla ortaya çıkar. Bu hayal kırıklığı, özellikle en yakın ve en samimi saydığımız arkadaşımızda birkaç kez tekrarlandığında bütün insanlardan nefret etmeye ve hiçbirinde en küçük de olsa sağlıklı bir özellik bulunmadığına inanmaya başlarız.

Turk, Elhamdulila The Turks took up the sword, Europe trembled, shuddered. And we too in Kosova fought For our beloved freedom. They attacked with fire and sword, For centuries our freedoms were lost, The tyrant overran us: 'You are a Turk, elhamdulila!' Religion and nation were the same, Moslem and Turk were one. He wanted us to forget our very names: 'You are a Turk, elhamdulila!' He forbade our language too, To speak no Turkish was to be an infidel. It is the word of God, they told us: 'You are a Turk, elhamdulila!' 'You are a Turk, you are a Turk,' they thundered At the Albanians for centuries, And one day one of us uttered: 'I am a Turk, elhamdulila!' But no, Turks we are not! Never! Let everyone know We have always been Albanians; Religion cannot wipe that away! No, Turks we are not! But their working people we love. After times of blood and gloom We shall go forth - hand in hand! Translated by Robert Elsie

A Sumerian word like munintuma’a (‘when he had made it suitable for her’) might seem rather trim compared to the Turkish colossus above. What is so impressive about it, however, is not its lengthiness, but rather the reverse: the thrifty compactness of its construction. The word is made up of different ‘slots’ , each corresponding to a particular portion of meaning. This sleek design allows single sounds to convey useful information, and in fact even the absence of a sound has been enlisted to express something specific. If you were to ask which bit in the Sumerian word corresponds to the pronoun ‘it’ in the English translation ‘when he had made it suitable for her’, then the answer would have to be … nothing. Mind you, a very particular kind of nothing: the nothing that stands in the empty slot in the middle. The technology is so fine-tuned, then, that even a non-sound, when carefully placed in a particular position, has been invested with a specific function. Who could possibly have come up with such a nifty contraption?

Extract from 'Quixotic Ambitions': The crowd stared at Katy expectantly. She looked at them - old women in black, exhausted young women with pasty-faced children, youths in jeans and leather blousons chewing gum. She tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she blurted out her short speech, thanking the people of Shkrapova for their welcome and promising that if she won the referendum she would work for the good of Maloslavia. There was some half-hearted applause and an old lady hobbled up to her, knelt down with difficulty, and kissed the hem of her skirt. She looked at Katy with tears rolling down her face and gabbled something excitedly. Dimitar translated: ‘She says that she remembers the reign of your grandfather and that God has sent you to Maloslavia.’ Katy was embarrassed but she smiled at the woman and helped her to her feet. At this moment the People’s Struggle Pioneers appeared on the scene, waving their banners and shouting ‘Doloy Manaheeyoo! Popnikov President!’ Police had been stationed at strategic points and quickly dispersed the demonstrators without any display of violence, but the angry cries of ‘Down with the monarchy!’ had a depressing effect on the entertainment that had been planned; only a few people remained to watch it. A group of children aged between ten and twelve ran into the square and performed a series of dances accompanied by an accordian. They stamped their feet and clapped their hands frequently and occasionally collided with one another when they forgot their next move. The girls wore embroidered blouses, stiffly pleated skirts and scarlet boots and the boys were in baggy linen shirts and trousers, the legs of which were bound with leather thongs. Their enthusiasm compensated for their mistakes and they were loudly applauded. The male voice choir which followed consisted of twelve young men who sang complicated polyphonic melodies with a high, curiously nasal tenor line accompanied by an unusually deep droning bass. Some of their songs were the cries of despair of a people who had suffered under Turkish occupation; others were lively dance tunes for feast days and festivals. They were definitely an acquired taste and Katy, who was beginning to feel hungry, longed for them to come to an end. At last, at two o’clock, the performance finished and trestle tables were set up in the square. Dishes of various salads, hors-d’oeuvres and oriental pastries appeared, along with casks of beer and bottles of the local red wine. The people who had disappeared during the brief demonstration came back and started piling food on to paper plates. A few of the People’s Struggle Pioneers also showed up again and mingled with the crowd, greedily eating anything that took their fancy.

It was then that I made the discovery that his talk created reverberations, that the echo took a long time to reach one's ears. I began to compare it with French talk in which I had been enveloped for so long. The latter seemed more like the play of light on an alabaster vase, something reflective, nimble, dancing, liquid, evanescent, whereas the other, the Katsimbalistic language, was opaque, cloudy, pregnant with resonances which could only be understood long afterwards, when the reverberations announced the collision with thoughts, people, objects located in distant parts of the earth. The Frenchman puts walls about his talk, as he does about his garden: he puts limits about everything in order to feel at home. At bottom he lacks confidence in his fellow-man; he is skeptical because he doesn't believe in the innate goodness of human beings. He has become a realist because it is safe and practical. The Greek, on the other hand, is an adventurer: he is reckless and adaptable, he makes friends easily. The walls which you see in Greece, when they are not of Turkish or Venetian origin, go back to the Cyclopean age. Of my own experience I would say that there is no more direct, approachable, easy man to deal with than the Greek. He becomes a friend immediately: he goes out to you. With the Frenchman friendship is a long and laborious process: it may take a lifetime to make a friend of him. He is best in acquaintanceship where there is little to risk and where there are no aftermaths. The very word ami contains almost nothing of the flavor of friend, as we feel it in English. C'est mon ami cannot be translated by "this is my friend." There is no counterpart to this English phrase in the French language. It is a gap which has never been filled, like the word "home." These things affect conversation. One can converse all right, but it is difficult to have a heart to heart talk.

All of these inspirations, along with a love for the place, the people and their history, have found their way into the books she’s written, which have been translated into German, Norwegian, Czech, Turkish and Slovenian. Fiona now lives in Scotland, but

1) Besmele'nin -Neml/30 ayeti müstesna-Kur'andan ve özelde Fatiha Süresi'nden bir cüz/bir ayet olup olmadığı meselesi üzerinde ihtilaf edilmiştir. Şafii mezhebine göre, Besmele başında bulunduğu her süreden birer ayettir ve Fatiha Süresi'nin yedi ayetinden birincisi deBesmele'dir. Maliki mezhebine göre, Besmele -Neml/30 ayeti müstesna- ne Kur'an'dan ve ne de Fatiha Sıiresi'nden bir cüz/bir ayettir; sadece sürelerin aralarını fasletmek için ve teberrüken yazılmıştır. Hanefilere göre ise, Besmele başında bulunduğu her surede başlı başına, münferid bir ayettir ve Kur'andandır, fakat sürelerin hiç birinden bir cüz/bir ayet değildir! (1/11 15-17)

World is My Brotherhood (Sonnet 1616) No neighborhood without brotherhood, No sainthood without martyrdom. Martyrdom doesn't mean dying in body, but to be lost in others' ascension. You're born with a human backbone, Don't let it be vilified by cowardice. Backbone responsible is backbone honored, Backbone responsible is antidote to malice. World is in your care, carry it with grace. No bigger disgrace than backbone bending! Find a cause that honors your human backbone, Humans can break, while animals bend for nothing. Stars-n-stripes, union jack, all trivial, for the world is my neighborhood. I got no brotherhood of cult or creed, for the world is my brotherhood.

World is my brotherhood.

Love is the bedrock of us all.

More torturous the tears, more alive the seer.

Difficulties of today are freeway to the future.

Sonnet 1609 Myself Human, Himalayan Human - broader than your schools, higher than your walls. Myself Sapiens, Serendipitous Sapiens - holier than hagiographies, stranger than quantum world. Be a Muslim, be a Christian, Be an Atheist, or be a martian! None of these means nothing at all, till we're each other's emancipation.

Be a Muslim, be a Christian, Be an Atheist, or be a martian! None of these means nothing at all, till we're each other's emancipation.

Amidst the sea of joy-seeking juveniles, Be the one anomaly that feasts on pain. Seek out the pain among those around, Rush down to heal like monsoon rain.

Istanbul to Alpha Centauri, Intolerance is not civility. If you can't tell faith from hate, You are the posterape of infidelity.

If you can't tell faith from hate, you are the posterape of infidelity.

Goodwill is godliness.

Contaminate not the sweetness of soul, with foul stench of segregated psyche. Better stand civilized, without roots, than be sentenced to inherited slavery.

Love if there is time - Love, and there is time. Love if there is breath - Love, and there is breath.

Love if there is time - Love, and there is time.

Joy makes us feel good, pain makes us alive.

Happily everafter is a disney myth, In real life there's only messy evernow. Master the craft of surfing the mess, World will bathe in your sapient glow.

World is made in your image.

Happiness shared is happiness sacred, Happiness hoarded is happiness wasted. Society stands on selfless shoulders, not on cruelty of the surviving fittest.

To share and to care are the sign of life, to hoard and to hate are the sign of animal.

Mockery helps build resilience.

Seek yourself in the joy of neighbors, You shall know the meaning of justice. Seek yourself in smiles of the world, You shall emerge as antidote to malice.

World is the lock, humanity is key.

Brain is there to think human, Heart is there to feel human. Eyes are there to see human, Hands are there to be human.

Love of religion may or may not make you a good person, but religion of love always does.

Kindness is intention absolute, Goodness is belief absolute. Service is wisdom absolute, Humanity is education absolute.

Weakness enhances humanness.

Serenity stems from simplicity, Fear festers in frivolity. Peace stems from patience, Insecurity festers in apathy.

Superstition mustn't be forwarded as culture.

Donning the cap of curiosity, Heart firmly rooted in humility, Wielding the wonder of living morale, Be the one-sided lover to humanity.

Only food haram is the food unshared, Only kafir in cosmos is person apathetic. Only being blasphemous is being bigoted, Goodwill is godliness, wholeness holistic.

Discrimination is only symptom, distance is the culprit.

Backbone responsible is antidote to malice.

Stars-n-stripes, union jack, all trivial, for the world is my neighborhood. I got no brotherhood of cult or creed, for the world is my brotherhood.

It's a tragic state of affairs, when we get used to the sight of blood. If the sight of blood makes you sick, it's good - it's a sign that your humanity isn't yet lost.

Painless poet cannot be, Doubtless scientist cannot be. Darkless dawn cannot be, Errorless existence cannot be.

Tears make us tenacious, Hindrance makes us humble. Mockery makes us mindful, Treachery makes incorruptible.

More than joy, pain brings us light. Joy makes us feel good, pain makes us alive.

Happiness shared is happiness human, Happiness hoarded is happiness animal. To share and to care are the sign of life, To hoard and to hate are the sign of animal.

Wear a smile in the face of ridicule, wear silence in the face of praise.

Defend principle, not prejudice. Support reformation, not rigidity. Be responsible, not reckless. Support correction, not conformity.

What is human is also kind, Kindness is supreme sanity. Acceptance is love in practice, Love is the truest upward mobility.

Civil Sanity (Sonnet 1631) You know what the problem is! We question love more than we question hate. We question humility more than we question arrogance. We question benevolence more than we question biases. We question integrity more than we question deceit. We question curiosity more than we question prejudice. We question character more than we question cowardice. Problem is, we question humanity more than we question inhumanity. Grow out of such prehistoric normalcy, and the world will encounter civil sanity.

Burn my books, and go lift the world! Let me live in your blood, not in books. Fetch your nerves and wield your backbone, You are the cure to the paradigm of crooks.

Genocide is Patriotism (Sonnet 1634) National anthems count for nothing, when the nations are full of monkeys, monkeys who keep buying bloodshed, in the name of national security. Genocide is patriotism, thus teaches the textbook of defense and diplomacy. What else do you expect from legal texts, concocted by a bunch of stoneage monkeys! Monkey kill, monkey laugh - Monkeys are honored with medal! Airforce, army, navy - so many ways to maintain status quo of the jungle! The purpose of every national anthem is to enforce and maintain a status quo of war. Show me a human without national pride, I'll show you the pathway out of war.

Where there is intention, there is integration. Where there is integration, there is emancipation.

Sharing is not socialism, Caring is not altruism. Helping is not humanism, Reform is not politicalism.

I don't do anything for reward, I do everything as a record, a record of conviction - a record of resilience - a record of thunder - a record of sentience. My life is a repository of what is possible if you put your petty tribalisms aside. I leave this repository in your capable hands - draw from it as you will - put it to use as you deem fit.

I don't do anything for reward, I do everything as a record, a record of conviction - a record of resilience - a record of thunder - a record of sentience.

My life is a repository of what is possible if you put your petty tribalisms aside.

Visvabiotic (The Sonnet) Human is bandaid to human burn, Human is ointment to human yearn. Human is morning to human mourn, Human is cure born of human churn. Human is Altair to human Vega, Human is aloe to human vera. Human is pilgrim to human mecca, Human, Poly-B to social septicemia. There is no fancy heaven, only a good fervent human. There is no book of god, only a brave godly person. Human is piety to prejudice barbaric. To all inhuman hate, Human Visvabiotic.

Human is bandaid to human burn, Human is ointment to human yearn. Human is morning to human mourn, Human is cure born of human churn.

Human is piety to prejudice barbaric. To all inhuman hate, Human Visvabiotic.

Tanrınator (The Sonnet) To the christian I'm christian - to neonazism, I'm nazarene ravager. To the jew I'm just a jew - to zionism, I'm thunderahava. To the sanatani I'm advaitin - to hindutva, I'm narasimha. To the muslim I'm sufi fakir - to islamism, I'm tanrınator. To the atheist I'm rationalist, to the militant I'm apocalypse. To the intellectuals I'm an idiot, to the narcissist I'm cataclysmic. I'm a brother to every believer and nonbeliever alike. I'm the bridge that unites the shores, I'm the bulldozer that obliterates divide.

I'm a brother to every believer and nonbeliever alike. I'm the bridge that unites the shores, I'm the bulldozer that obliterates divide.

I'm Here to Destroy You (Sonnet of Naskars) I'm not here to comfort you, I'm here to make you restless. I'm not here to enlighten you, I'm here to destroy you peaceless. When one Naskar dies, a thousand Naskars will rise. The duties of Naskar are too heavy for self-coddling cowards to carry. That's why, I'm here to destroy you, your last ounce of self care and peace. Doing what you need to sustain yourself is one thing, but to obsess over it is cowardice. I got no business with such cowardly insects, who try to hide pettiness with perfectionism. Give me ten messy vessels restless for purpose, I shall give the world 10,000 years of ascension.

I got no business with such cowardly insects, who try to hide pettiness with perfectionism. Give me ten messy vessels restless for purpose, I shall give the world 10,000 years of ascension.

Medeniyet zihinden doğar, Maymuniyet zihinden doğar. Bütün sorunlar zihinden doğar, Cevaplar da zihinden doğar.

I'll tell you plainly - I don't believe in a supreme being, but if you do, and your belief helps you be a better human, I'll fight for your belief till my last breath. But if your belief is your excuse for intolerance and fanaticism, then you're my child, and I am your judgment.

Lock-n-Key (The Sonnet) I am the lock, You are the key. Sight of your smile, showers me with glee. I got no need for church-n-mosque, Got no need for God or Jehovah. These are for those seeking security, Upon love's face unfolds my Mecca. Yesterday I was a sensible infant, I studied scripture seeking holiness. Today I am a grownass nutter, Only godly gift is love's holy mess. Bibles are expendable, Altars are expendable. Till love takes preference, God itself is expendable.

Bibles are expendable, Altars are expendable. Till love takes preference, God itself is expendable.

Yesterday I was a sensible infant, I studied scripture seeking holiness. Today I am a grownass nutter, Only godly gift is love's holy mess.

Genocide is patriotism.

Moments are the marrow of memory, memories are the marrow of time.

I'm a muslim poet, a humanitarian scientist, and an advaitin philosopher. Figure this out, and you'll crack the Naskar enigma.

In an animal world of inherited division, I'm the human cure to all apish inkling. In this white heaven of fear and hate, I am forgiveness, I am Visvamuslim.

Kendine saygı göster, bir gün dünya da sana saygı gösterecek.

Visvamuslim (The Sonnet) I'm a scientist at brain, poet and monk at heart, philosopher at conscience. If this tickles you the wrong way, it's a sign of your medievalness. Now I'm gonna tell you something, which will make even less sense, unless you're a human of the future, beyond the gutter of nation-n-sects. I'm a muslim poet, a humanitarian scientist, and an advaitin philosopher. Figure this out, and you'll crack the Naskar enigma. In an animal world of inherited division, I'm the human cure to all apish inkling. In this white heaven of fear and hate, I am forgiveness, I am Visvamuslim.

I'm a muslim poet, a humanitarian scientist, and an advaitin philosopher.

Soprattutto, l’umano è la verità! Tutte le strade portano alla gente. Bella ciao, è ora di svegliarsi alla vita! Divisione e divinità non possono andare insieme.

Once I feel the language and culture in my veins, I can deliver my ideas in any language I want. I can write in any language, because I want to. And no, I don't use some fancy AI tools. In fact, I have an uncompromising principle against the use of AI in literature. Heck, I opted not to use something so trivial as an image containing yours truly with a mace, as cover image of "Bulletproof Backbone", because it collided with the book's anti-weaponry vision - so you can imagine my stance on fraudulent material generated by AI! What I do use, while writing in other languages, is old-fashioned dictionary - online dictionary that is, to fix things like spelling, missing vocabulary and other broken bits - which makes me a broken polyglot. And believe you me, broken polyglots are potent polyglots. I may not be fluent in a lot of languages, but after I am long gone, each of these languages and cultures will have something distinctly personal left by me to call their own. For example, I may not speak fluent German, yet if I write even one page in the German language, it'll forever become an indelible part of the German culture. It'll not be some off-key German translation of an original Naskar, rather it'll be a German literature from the vast Naskarean oeuvre. Sure, I know my limits in each of these languages, that's why I keep my sentence structure simple, which I am not compelled to do in Turkish and Spanish. But more than my limits, I am aware of my limitlessness. And once the being transcends the limits of language, culture, border and tradition, puny apparatus like intellect is bound to follow.

When I crossed the hundred books mark, I genuinely thought, "I'm done". But something happened! I don't know why, but my drive towards other languages became stronger than ever. I felt, now is the time to make parts of my legacy more accessible to other languages. I have never relied on anyone in my life for the realization of my legacy, so it was obvious that I was not gonna wait for somebody else to translate my works for me. Besides, when somebody else translates an original literature into another language, it always remains a translation - it can never become an original literature of that language and culture. This I absolutely did not want. Sure, other than Turkish and Spanish, I have difficulty with other languages - that is, I am not at all fluent in them. But the point is, once I feel the language and culture in my veins, I can deliver my ideas in any language I want. And I've been doing exactly that over the years - absorbing as many cultures and languages into my bloodstream as I can that is. If you tear my heart open, you can find every single culture in the world, caringly placed and nurtured. Some call it gift, I call it intention.

Sonetto Ramadan Il digiuno e il banchetto diventano rituali futili, se la vita viene separata dalla vita. La celebrazione del Ramadan è la celebrazione di rahmat*, Il Ramadan senza *compassione è il Ramadan senza vita. Il Ramadan non è una festa musulmana, Il Ramadan è una festa umana. Il Ramadan è un promemoria per riaccendere la nostra luce, Il Ramadan pone fine a tutti i sentimenti scortesi. L'iftar più grande è rompere il digiuno dell'apatia, con la festa dell'affetto. Per chi vive con gentilezza, il Ramadan viene ogni giorno.

Hurt strengthens the heart.

Scars shared are scars cared.

Respétate a ti mismo, y un día el mundo entero te respetará.

I want you so much, he said with such heart-tugging sincerity that to be fair, a translation from Turkish to English would have to flip a coin between "want" and "love.

You speak like a future nation-builder, Master Shevki. Dede has no relationship with the nation. His domain is the soul of the individual … a soul that has curiosities, enigmas, hunger, thirst particular to itself. Whether or not men are composed of small pieces of an apparent nation like some type of world-womb, they return naked to the congregation. Dede has no relation with the future Turkish regime that you have imagined.

Ivo Andric, Bosnian chronicle (Quote about nostalgia, free translation from Bosnian lenguage) More than three hundred years ago, brought us from our homeland, a unique Andalusia, a terrible, foolish, fratricidal whirlwind, which we can not understand even today, and who has not understood it to this day, scattered us all over the world and made us beggars to which gold does not help. Now, threw us on the East, and life on the East is not easy for us or blessed, and the as much man goes further and gets closer to the sun's birth, it is worse, because the land is younger and more raw and people are from the land. And our trouble is that we could not fully love this country, to which we owe becouse it has received us, accept us and provided us with shelter, nor could we hate the one who has unjustly took us away and expelled us as an unworthly sons. We do not know is it more difficult that we are here or that we are not there. Wherever we were outside of Spain, we would suffer because we would have two homelands, I know, but here life is too much pressed us and humiliated us. I know that we have been changed for a long time,we do not remember anymore how we were, but surely we remember that we were different. We left and road up long time ago and we traveled hard and we unluckily fell down and stopped at this place, and that is why we are no longer even a shadow of what we were. As a powder on a fruit that goes hand-to-hand, from man first fall of what is finest on him. That's why we are like this. But you know us, us and our life, if we can call this life. We live between "occupiers" and commonalty, miserable commonalty and terrible Turkish. Cutted away completely from our loved ones, we are careful to look after and keep everything Spanish, songs and meals and customs, but we feel that everything changes in us, spoils and forgets. We remember the language of our land, the lenguage we did take and carried three centuries ago, the lenguage which even do not speak there anymore, and we ridiculously speak with stumbling the language of the comonalty with which we suffer and the Turkish who rules over us. So it may not be a long day when we will be purely and humanly able to express ourselves only in prayer, and which actually does not need any words. This so lonely and few, we marry between us and see that our blood is paling and fainting. We bend and shred in front of everyone, we mourn, suffer and contrive, as people said: on the ice we make campfire, we work, we gain, we save, not only for ourselves and for our children, but for all those who are stronger and more insolent, impudent than us and strike on our life , on the dignity, and on the wealth. So we preserved the faith for which we had to leave our beautiful country, but lost almost everything else. Luckily, and to our sorrow, we did not lose from our memory reminiscence of our dear country, as it was, before she drive away us like stepmother; just as it will never extinguish in us the desire for a better world, the world of order and humanity in which you goes stright, watches calmly and speaks openly. We can not free ourselves from that feeling, nor feeling that, in addition to everything, we belong to such a world, though, we are expelled and unhappy, otherwise we live. That's what we would like to know there. That our name does not die in that brighter and higher world that is constantly darkening and destroying, iconstantly moves and changes, but never collapses, and always for somebody exists, that that world knows that we are carrying him in our soul, that even here we serve him on our way, and we feel one with him, even though we are forever and hopelessly separated from him.

Orman hem veriyor hem alıyor. Ona gelenleri de kendine benzetiyor.

the Turkish language has changed so radically since the time of Kemal’s “Nutuk” that a Turk living today would not be able to understand his actual words. The speech literally has to be translated for contemporary Turkish speakers. Most important, any record, history, or document created prior to 1929 is totally unreadable by all Turks

Remember we Azeris had barely a single general. But I was the one who got the Russian army out of our country. Remember, I talked in Turkish through a translator to Yeltsin, not in Russian, something that was never done before. Yeltsin once hit his spoon on Akayev's head, but I refused to let them do such things to me.

lost incredible amounts of blood. Then the state literally breaks down because of hunger and the lack of everything. A collapse just as monumental as the German one, just translated into Turkish. Five years later it [the collapse] led to the Treaty of Sèvres [here he confused the Treaty of Sèvres with the Treaty of Lausanne], with the result that the Turkish Empire is founded again and that the world speaks with highest respect of this Turkish state. The inner strength had remained, it was instantly mobilized as soon as the man [Atatürk] came who managed to remind his people of its great tradition and who led them forward. That is what was different with us Germans

In 1857, in response to the massive numbers of forced migrant Muslim Tatars from the Crimea, the Ottoman Sublime Porte promulgated a Refugee Code (also translated from Ottoman Turkish into English in some texts as the Immigration Law). Responding to the grave need to provide shelter and food for its subjects, expelled initially from the Crimea but also from other border-land regions with Russia, the Ottoman government set out to swiftly disperse and integrate its forced migrants. It aimed to provide ‘immigrant’ families and groups with only a minimum amount of capital, with plots of state land to start life anew in agricultural activity. Families who applied for land in Rumeli (the European side of the Ottoman Empire) were granted exemptions from taxation and conscription obligations for a period of six years. If, however, they chose to continue their migration into Anatolia and Greater Syria then their exemptions extended for twelve years. In both cases the new immigrants had to agree to cultivate the land and not to sell or leave it for twenty years. Ottoman reformers were eager to see the largely depopulated Syrian provinces revived by these new migrants after several centuries of misadministration, war, famine, and several pandemics of the plague (Shaw and Shaw 1977: 115). The twenty-year clause also meant that these newcomers were released from the pressure of nineteenth-century property developers, as there was a kind of lien on the property, prohibiting its onward sale for twenty years.

Gökyüzüne bakıp da kuyruklu piyanoya benzeyen şu bulutun süzülüp gittiğini mi gördüm, hemen bir hikayemin bir yerine gökyüzünden kuyruklu piyanoya benzeyen bir bulutun süzülüp gittiğini koymalıyım diye düşünürüm. Vanilya çiçeği kokuyor değil mi? Hemen mim koyarım: "Ağdalı bir koku, çiçeği dul kadın giysisi renginde, bir yaz akşamı tasvirinde kullanılacak..." Sizin ağzınızdan ve kendi ağzımdan çıkan her sözcüğü kaptığım gibi, edebiyat dağarıma tıkıştırırım, bakarsın işe yarar!

Küçük yazar, hele de şansı yardım etmiyorsa, bir fazlalık gibi hisseder kendini. Beceriksiz, sakar, diken üstünde gibi tedirgindir. Karşı konulmaz bir güç, edebiyat ve sanat çevrelerine çeker onu. İnsanların gözlerine, doğrudan doğruya ve cesurca bakmaya korkarak, silik ve ürkek, dolanıp durur oralarda.

Her an, herkese, Her gün, her gece, Ailen gibi bakmalı. İnsan olarak doğdun, İnsan gibi yaşamalı. İnsanın hakikatini insan yazmalı, İnsanın nasibini insan yazmalı, İnsanın hikayesi insan yazmalı, İnsanın ilacı insan olmalı. İnsanı seven herkes resul, Yardım eden herkes kraldır. Bencil servet hayvanlara mübarek, İnsan ben, kimliğim kral fakir. Yazar olmak çok kolay Yazar kalmak kolay değil. Aşık olmak çok kolay, Aşık kalmak kolay değil. Yazarın en büyük gücü yaralardır, Her kelime acı veriyor, yine de yazıyorum! Hayat ne kadar zor olursa olsun, Şair ben, yaralarla yaşamayı biliyorum. Mutluluktan yaz, beş kişi arkadaşın olsun. Yaralardan yaz, tüm dünya ailen olsun.

Doğru dünya doğru niyetin sonucudur. Güneş gibi yan - her yerde ışık olur!

Bu dünyada komşu kimdir, biliyor musun? Hayatta tanıştığımız herkes bizim komşumuzdur. İnsan hayatı nedir biliyor musun? Başkasının gözyaşını silmek için çabalamak insan hayatıdır.

İnsan vicdansız olamaz, vicdan insansız. Aşık acısız olmaz, acılar aşksız.

Kardeşliksiz kâinat yok, Maneviyatsız medeniyet yok. Benim maneviyat kitaplardan değil, kalpten doğar. Benim medeniyet hukuktan değil, iyilikten doğar.

Sorumluluk bize onur verir, Onur bize cesaret verir. Onurlu ol, sorumluluğunu taşı, Sorumluluk bize hayatı öğretir. Dünya benim, sorumluluk benim - Böyle der bir gerçek insan. Umut ben, cevap ben - Böyle der bilinçli vicdan.

Beyin durduğunda, Kalp durduğunda, Elinde ne kaldı? Gözler kaybolduğunda, Hafıza kaybolduğunda, Elinde ne kaldı? Gurur kaybolduğunda, Para kaybolduğunda, Elinde ne kaldı? Hayattaki her şeyi kaybettikten sonra, Senden dünyaya kalan hediye nedir?

Purpose emboldens awareness.

Sarhoş ol, ey insan! Sarhoş bir aşk mektubu ol dünyaya. Herkes aşk hikayesi okumayı sever, Özverili bir aşk hikayesi ol dünyaya.

Dünya için yanan on yürek ver bana, ben sana yeni bir dünya vereceğim.

Bana bir kalem ve kağıt ver, Ben sana devrim vereceğim! Dünya için yanan on yürek ver bana, ben sana yeni bir dünya vereceğim.

Bana bir kağıt and kalem ver, ben sana devrim vereceğim! Dünya için yanan on yürek ver bana, ben sana yeni bir dünya vereceğim.

Ambassadors, obedience to instructions by: "It should be noted that unswerving obedience fits only with precise and peremptory commands. Ambassadors have somewhat freer duties the filling of which, in several respects, entirely depends on their own dispositions. They do not simply execute, but form also and direct by their own advice the will of their masters." — Michel de Montaigne Ambassadors, qualifications of: Distinguished credentials in other fields are not a self-evident qualification for appointment as ambassador. A genius for battlefield maneuver does not necessarily presage a talent for the peaceful conciliation of differences. The ability to make a profit from an idea or an enterprise cannot be taken to imply political acumen, tact, or cultural adaptability. The capacity to do brilliant academic research and deliver thoughtful lectures does not certify a facility for listening, interpreting the subtleties of foreign leaders, and reacting deftly to them on the spot. Political skill honed in parliamentary maneuver at home may not translate into adroit practice of the art of the possible abroad. The capacity to represent private interests effectively in the courts may not foretell a capacity to advocate both public and private interests persuasively to a foreign system of government and society. Ambassadors, qualifications of: "An ambassador should be a trained theologian, should be well-versed in Aristotle and Plato, and should be able at a moment's notice to solve the most abtruse problems in correct dialectical form; he should also be expert in mathematics, architecture, music, physics, and civil and canon law. He should speak and write Latin fluently and must also be proficient in Greek, Spanish, French, German and Turkish. While being a trained classical scholar, a historian, a geographer and an expert in military science, he must also have a cultured taste for poetry. And above all he must be of excellent family, rich and endowed with a fine physical presence." — Ottaviano Maggi, 1596 Ambassadors, qualities of effective: To be effective, ambassadors must exemplify intelligence, trustworthiness, humaneness, foresight, courage, a sense of humor, and sternness. By doing so they may compensate, in part, for the not-infrequent lack of these qualities in the national leaders in whose name they act.

Cesaretin var mı, insan, insan gibi yaşamaya!

En büyük hikmet hizmettir.

En büyük hikmet hizmettir, en büyük eğitim insanlıktır.

Kuşlar gibi gökyüzüne şarkı söyle, Yağmur gibi sarıl toprağı. Rüzgar gibi ruhlara dokun, Güneş gibi öp dünyayı.

Birds never know (Sonnet) Birds never know if the sun will rise, yet they sing everyday right before dawn. And sure enough the night collapses, into the arms of the rising sun. Kiss the world like morning sun, Sing to the sky like waking birds. Fret not the fears of wild insecurity, You do your task with dutybound heart. Touch the soul like summer breeze, Hug the soil like monsoon rain. Life is calling, can't you hear! Universe awaits your humane reign.

Kiss the world like morning sun, Sing to the sky like waking birds. Fret not the fears of wild insecurity, You do your task with dutybound heart. Touch the soul like summer breeze, Hug the soil like monsoon rain. Life is calling, can't you hear! Universe awaits your humane reign.

Yak benim her kitabımı, ve git - insanlara yardım et! Kitaplarda değil, kanında tut beni. Yak dünyadaki tüm eski bilgeliği, ve git, kendi bilgeliğini yaz kendin!

Birds never know if the sun will rise, yet they sing everyday right before dawn. And sure enough the night collapses, into the arms of the rising sun.

Gidelim artık. Bu ayrılmamız Hem kalış hem gidiştir ikimiz için: Sen ne kadar kalsan da geliyorsun benimle; Ben ne kadar gitsem de kalıyorum seninle.