Turkish Poetry Quotes

I don't love her anymore So Why should I walk Nights By the tavern Where I drank Every night Thinking of her?

...to limit the meaning of Aslan simply to lion from Turkish is to miss its deep northern resonances and the song of the snowflakes whirling around it. Lewis admitted that, as a boy, he had been ‘crazed by northern–ness’ and there are many subtle references to Norse mythology in the story. In fact, if we treat Aslan as a word from Old Norse, it simply means god of the land. By combining that meaning with Turkish lion, it is essentially cognate which Welsh, Llew, lion, the very word from which the name Lewis is derived.

A single word can brighten the face of one who knows the value of words. Ripened in silence, a single word acquires a great energy for work. War is cut short by a word, and a word heals the wounds, and there’s a word that changes poison into butter and honey. Let a word mature inside yourself. Withhold the unripened thought. Come and understand the kind of word that reduces money and riches to dust. Know when to speak a word and when not to speak at all. A single word turns the universe of hell into eight paradises. Follow the Way. Don’t be fooled by what you already know. Be watchful. Reflect before you speak. A foolish mouth can brand your soul. Yunus, say one last thing about the power of words – Only the word “I” divides me from God.

[Y]ou, one day, will knock lips with Turkish-coffee-clad veils whose beds our kin must tuck in misty-eyed.

Ey tâlih! Ölümden de beterdir bu karanlık; Ey aşk! O gönüller sana mâl oldular artık; Ey vuslat! O âşıkları efsûnuna râm et! Ey tatlı ve ûlvi gece! Yıllarca devâm et!

üstadım şimdi şöyle bir mesele var ama dur ayaküstü konuşmayalım atıfta bulunalım ahır hayvanlarına sevişmeyi böyle bir karara bağlayalım.

şimdi sen görünmeyen ne varsa, şimdi sen ruhumu okşayan her şey, şimdi herkes senin hayaletin, sen içimdeki bütün o ölü sesler

nereye gitsen sensin / gördüklerin hep kendin / kavafis haklıydı evet / şehirler ardından gelir

Azita Ghahreman, is an Iranian poet.[1] She was born in Iran in 1962. She has written four books in Persian and one book in Swedish. She has also translated American poetry. She is a member of the Iranian Writers Association and International PEN. She has published four collections of poetry: Eve's Songs (1983), Sculptures of Autumn (1986), Forgetfulness is a Simple Ritual (1992) and The Suburb of Crows (2008), a collection reflecting on he exile in Sweden (she lives in an area called oxie on the outskirts of Malmö) that was published in both Swedish and Persian. Her poems directly address questions of female desire and challenge the accepted position of women. A collection of Azita's work was published in Swedish in 2009 alongside the work of Sohrab Rahimi and Christine Carlson. She has also translated a collection of poems by the American poet and cartoonist, Shel Silverstein, into Persian, The Place Where the Sidewalk Ends (2000). And she has edited three volumes of poems by poets from Khorasan, the eastern province of Iran that borders Afghanistan and which has a rich and distinctive history. Azita's poems have been translated into German, Dutch, Arabic, Chinese, Swedish, Spanish, Macedonian, Turkish, Danish, French and English. A new book of poetry, Under Hypnosis in Dr Caligari's Cabinet was published in Sweden in April 2012. [edit]Books Eva's Songs, (persian)1990 Autumn Sculptures,(persian) 1995 Where the sidewalk ends, Shell Silverstein(Translated to Persian with Morteza Behravan) 2000 The Forgetfulness has a Simple Ceremony,(persian) 2002 Here is the Suburb of Crows,(persian) 2009 four Poetry books ( collected poems 1990-2009 in Swedish), 2009 under hypnosis in Dr kaligaris Cabinet, (Swedish) 2012 Poetry Translation Center London( collected poems in English) 2012

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.

Sonnet of National Sickness Wanna study a superpower, study America. Wanna study dysfunctional power, still study America. Wanna study spirituality, study India. Wanna study rotten spirituality, still study India. Wanna study rise of secularism, study Turkish Republic. Wanna study fall of secularism, still study Turkish Republic. Wanna study standards of beauty, study the Korean Republic. Wanna study doctored beauty, still study the Korean Republic. Wanna study pride and loyalty, study good old Britannia. Wanna study primeval pride and loyalty, still study Britannia. Wanna study statehood, study People's Republic of China. Wanna study the horrors of statehood, still study China. Every nation on earth suffers from a distinct ailment. The first step towards recovery is acknowledgement.

Fate’s Smile" That line from an old Turkish song is still ringing my ears… A song they used to play on the radio in my teenage years on hot and boring summer days… The song had melancholy tunes, recoded with basic technology… The singer repeated in a hesitant and defeated voice: Bize de bir gün kader güler, güler inşallah… [The fate will one day smile at us, too. One day it will smile, Inshallah…] [Original poem published in Arabic on August 12, 2023 at ahewar.org]

Onun için cennet ol, cehennem değil. Vicdanlı bir adam ol, hayvan değil. Be her paradise, not prison. Be her man, not master. Be the miracle to her maladies. Onun yaralarına ilacı ol, tuz değil.

The Tower of Babbling Lately I've been seeing poems on Hello Poetry posted in Russian, Georgian, Turkish, Urdu, Hindi and Tagalog. If these poets really want to be read, they'd be much better off knocking on their hated neighbor's door, and sayin', "Hey, wanna to read some awesome poetry even a fucking idiot like you can understand?

My uncle read me Omar Khayyam. In Arabic. Not Turkish or even English. I tried so hard to understand it. I would ask him what it all meant but he always said the pleasure was in the finding out... the discovery. He said you can keep some poems by you your whole life and they will only reveal parts of themselves to you when you are ready to hear them. (Ottmar)

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

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.

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.

Likewise, the hüzün in Turkish poetry after the foundation of the Republic, as it, too, expresses the same grief that no one can or would wish to escape, an ache that finally saves our souls and also gives them depth. For the poet, hüzün is the smoky window between him and the world. The screen he projects over life is painful because life itself is painful. So it is, too, for the residents of Istanbul as they resign themselves to poverty and depression. Imbued still with the honour accorded it in Sufi literature, hüzün gives their resignation an air of dignity, but it also explains why it is their choice to embrace failure, indecision, defeat and poverty so philosophically and with such pride, suggesting that hüzün is not the outcome of life’s worries and great losses, but their principal cause. So it was for the heroes of the Turkish films of my childhood and youth, and also for many of my real-life heroes during the same period: they all gave the impression that, because of this hüzün they’d been carrying around in their hearts since birth that they could not appear desirous in the face of money, success, or the women they loved. Hüzün does not just paralyse the inhabitants of Istanbul; it also gives them poetic licence to be paralysed.

The biggest requirement of learning is to know your limits of the moment. Let me elaborate with an example. Alongside my mainstream works, I have wanted to create complete works in turkish and spanish for several years. And few years back, with my rather limited experiential understanding of both languages, I even took it upon myself to do so, but I got stuck on the very first page. Why? Because it is one thing to pen occasional gems in another language, and totally different to release an entire work in that language. I was ready at heart, but not at brain. So, instead of writing whole works in these languages, I simply made turkish and spanish a joyful addition to my mainstream work - however the original linguistic and cultural intention kept reflecting in the titles of works, such as Aşkanjali, The Gentalist, Gente Mente Adelante, Mucize Insan and so on. It was not until late 2023 that my brain finally caught up with my heart, and delivered the first complete original turkish and spanish Naskarean works to the world. Know your strongholds, they'll take you far. Know your shortfalls, they'll take you farther. Strongholds help you enhance your predominant capacities, whereas shortfalls help you unfold new possibilities - they help you unfold new vistas of human endeavor.

ALEV HIRSIZI Bugün şöminede güneş yaktım. Sonradan farkına vardım. Uzun hikâye. Önce bir tohum aldım. Toprağa umutla attım. Bir müddet karanlıkta kaldı. Sonra aniden ortaya çıktı. Ben suladım, o büyüdü, Derken ortaya bir yaprak çıktı. Yaprak güneşe uzunca baktı. Tüm gücünü ondan aldı. Artık nasıl yaptıysa yaptı, Yaprak gövdesini güneşten yarattı. Zannımca güneşi kendine ruh yaptı. Zamanı geçen haftaydı. Dalları itinayla budandı. Sonrası çok kolaydı. Attım şömineye bir dalı, Kibrit ona özünü hatırlattı. Güneşten topladığı alevi Sadece serbest bıraktı.

I use English when understanding is needed, I use Turkish when I wanna remain unheard. Some languages are vessels for the head, Some tongues are born to bear the heart.

Bir an kayboldun gibi! yaşadım kıyameti Yoruldun ama buldun ey kalbim emaneti Yeniden su yürüdü dalıma yaprağıma Bir bakışın can verdi kurumuş toprağıma Çiçeğe durdu kalbim içtim parmaklarından Göz çeşmem suya erdi sevda kaynaklarından Bir aydınlık denizin sonsuz derinliğinde Yüzüyorum gözünün yeşil serinliğinde Bir ışık bir kelebek biraz çiçek biraz kuş Yeni bir ülke yüzün ellerimde kaybolmuş Soluğum bir kuş gibi uçuyor ellerine Kapılıp gidiyorum saçının sellerine Gözlerinden göğüme sayısız yıldız akar Bir gülüşün içimde binlerce lamba yakar Bir kurtuluştur o an çağrılsa senin adın Sesin ne kadar sıcak sesin ne kadar yakın Tabiat bir bembeyaz gelinlik giymiş gibi Yüzüme kar yağıyor sanki elinmiş gibi Sensiz geçen zamanı belli yaşamamışım Sensizlik bir kuyuymuş onu aşamamışım Bir yol buldum öteye geçerek gözlerinden İşte yeni bir dünya peygamber sözlerinden Ölüm bize ne uzak bize ne yakın ölüm Ölümsüzlüğü tattık bize ne yapsın ölüm

Ben zamanı gördüm, İçimde ve dışımda sessiz çalışıyordu. Bir mezar böyle çalışırdı ancak, Yıldırımsız ve baltasız, Bir orman böyle devrilirdi! Ben zamanı gördüm, Kaç bakışta bozdu hayâlimi, Ve kaç düşüncede!

Art of Linguistics (Sonnet 1223) No language speaks of freedom better than spanish, No language speaks of love better than turkish, No language speaks of oneness better than sanskrit, No language interprets better than our good ol' english. No language speaks to computers better than code, No language speaks of matter better than physics. No language speaks of mind better than neurology, No language speaks pattern better than mathematics. No language speaks of thought better than philosophy, No language speaks of emotion better than poetry. No language speaks of justice better than sociology, No language speaks of behavior better than psychology. Purpose of language is communication not argumentation, If it doesn't bridge the cliffs it all brings but extinction.