A. Pushkin 

Gürültülü sokaklarda yürüsem
ya da hıncahıncına dalsam bir dolu kilisenin
oturup vahşi genç neslin arasında ya da
silip atsam kafamdan düşüncelerimi

Diyorum ki kendime: öyle çok göründügüne bakma
iste bir bir geçip gidiyor yillar,
Hepimiz çıkmak zoundayiz o son yolculuğa
ve şu an bile birinin gitme saati

Issız bir meşeye bakıp
düşünürüm: işte bu babasi tüm agaçlarin
gömecek benim yitip giden günlerimi
tipki gömdügü gibi dedeminkilerini de

okşasam küçük bir çocugu
aklima hemen ayrilik gelir.
yerimi sana bırakacagim
açarken senin çiçeklerin ben solmaliyim

Her gün, her saat
Bitevi dalarım düşüncelere
Geçen yılların sayısına bakıp
bulmaya çalışırım bana ölümü getirecek olanı

Peki kader nerede gönderecek bana ölümü
Savaşta mı, yolculukta mı ya da açık denizde mi?
Yoksa şu yakındaki vadi mi
alacak soğumuş küllerimi?

Gerçi farketmez hissiz bedenim
nerede çürürse çürüyüp gitsin
yine de taşrama yakın düşersem
isterim orada dinleneyim

Mezarımın yanında keşke
Genç canlar ebediyen oynasa
Ve yansız, umarsız doğa
Güzelliğiyle ışıldasa

Turkish translation by Akın Ilıcalı

A. Pushkin

If I walk the noisy streets,
Or enter a many thronged church,
Or sit among the wild young generation,
I give way to my thoughts.

I say to myself: the years are fleeting,
And however many there seem to be,
We must all go under the eternal vault,
And someone´s hour is already at hand.

When I look at a solitary oak
I think: the patriarch of the woods.
It will outlive my forgotten age
As it outlived that of my grandfathers´.

If I caress a young child,
Immediately I think: farewell!
I will yield my place to you,
For I must fade while your flower blooms.
 
  
Each day, every hour
I habitually follow in my thoughts,
Trying to guess from their number
The year which brings my death.

And where will fate send death to me?
In battle, in my travels, or on the seas?
Or will the neighbouring valley
Receive my chilled ashes?

 And although to the senseless body
It is indifferent wherever it rots,
Yet close to my beloved countryside
I still would prefer to rest.

And let it be, beside the grave´s vault
That young life forever will be playing,
And impartial, indifferent nature
Eternally be shining in beauty.

Thank you very much for opening this thread, vineyards  and for your effort to introduce Turkish speakers to to some classic of world poetry. Also, as you said once, this translation became "a part of the wealth possessed by Turkish language".

It would be nice if you reposted your translation of "Silvery Snow" and other Pushkin´s poems here.

And if I may join you, I would like to add some of my favorite poems by A.S. Pushkin:

The Hills of Georgia

The hills of Georgia are covered by the night;
Ahead Aragva runs through stone,
My feeling´s sad and light; my sorrow is bright;
My sorrow is full of you alone,
Of you, of only you... My everlasting gloom
Meets neither troubles nor resistance.
Again inflames and loves my poor heart, for whom
Without love, ´tis no existence.

(Translated by Yevgeny Bonver)

GECE SİSİ KAPLAMIŞ TEPELERİNİ GÜRCİSTAN´IN

Gece sisi kaplamış tepelerini Gürcistan´ın;
Karşımda akıyor Aragva uğultulu.
Hem hüzün hem bir hafiflik var içimde; kederliyim,
Seninle dopdolu, aydınlık bir keder bu.
Seninle, sadece seninle... Hiçbir şey
Bozmuyor, tedirgin etmiyor üzgünlüğümü,
Ve yürek yeniden tutuşuyor, seviyor yeniden,
Sevmemesi olanaksız çünkü.

(Çeviri: Ataol BEHRAMOĞLU)

I Loved You...

I loved you: and, it may be, from my soul
The former love has never gone away,
But let it not recall to you my dole;
I wish not sadden you in any way.

I loved you silently, without hope, fully,
In diffidence, in jealousy, in pain;
I loved you so tenderly and truly,
As let you else be loved by any man.

(Translated by Yevgeny Bonver)

SEVİYORDUM SİZİ

Seviyordum sizi ve bu aşk belki
İçimde sönmedi bütünüyle.
Fakat üzmesin sizi artık bu sevgi
İstemem üzülmenizi hiçbir şeyle.

Sessizce, umutsuzca seviyordum sizi.
Bazen çekingenlik, bazen kıskançlıkla üzgün.
Bu öyle içten, öyle candan bir sevgiydi ki
Dilerim bir başkasınca da böyle sevilin.

(Çeviri: Ataol BEHRAMOĞLU)

Я вас любил: любовь еще, быть может,
В душе моей угасла не совсем;
Но пусть она вас больше не тревожит;
Я не хочу печалить вас ничем.
Я вас любил безмолвно, безнадежно,
То робостью, то ревностью томим;
Я вас любил так искренно, так нежно,
Как дай вам бог любимой быть другим.

the original

(hmmm...in my opinion turkish translation is more similar to original...)

Thank you for the compliments.

I will post those translations if I can find them.

By the way, Ataol Behramoğlu - the translator of the poems you quoted is a great poet himself...

Of course! I think some of his poems, like "Aşk İki Kişiliktir" or "Yaşadıklarımdan Öğrendiği", have already became classics of Turkish poetry.

To...

I just recall this wondrous instant:
You have arrived before my face --
A vision, fleeting in a distance,
A spirit of the pure grace.

In pine of sorrow unfair,
In worldly harassment and noise
I dreamed of your beloved air
And heard your quiet, gentle voice.

Years passed. The tempests´ rebel senders
Have scattered this delightful dream,
And I forgot this sound tender
And how heavenly you seemed.

In gloomy dark of isolation,
My days were gradually moved,
Without faith and inspiration,
Without tears, life, and love.

My soul awoke with decision:
And you again came as a blest,
Like an enchanting fleeting vision,
A spirit of the pure grace.

My heart beats on in resurrection --
It has again for what to strive:
Divinity and inspiration,
Life, tears, and eternal love.

(Translated by Yevgeny Bonver)

O´NA

Anımsıyorum o büyülü ânı
Karşımda beliriverdiğin,
Uçup gidici bir hayal gibi,
Dehası gibi saf güzelliğin.

Bunluklarında ümitsiz hüznün,
Telâşın yorucu tasalarında,
Çınlardı o tatlı ses uzun uzun,
O güzelim çizgiler görünürdü bana.

Yıllar geçti. İsyancı dalgalarında fırtınaların
Dağılıp söndü eski hayaller,
Unuttum tatlı sesini senin
Ve silindi Tanrısal çizgiler.

Issızlıkta, karanlığında tutsaklığın
Sessizce uzayıp gidiyordu günlerim
Tanrısız, esinsiz, gözyaşsız,
Yaşamsız ve sevgisizdim.

Ve bir an geldi, uyandı ruhum:
Ve işte sen yeniden belirdin,
Bir hayal gibi, uçup giden,
Dehası gibi saf güzelliğin.

Ve yürek çarpıyor bir esrimeyle,
Ve yeniden canlanıyorlar onda
Tanrısallık da, esin de,
Yaşam da, gözyaşı da, aşk da.

(Çeviri: Ataol BEHRAMOĞLU)

I remember we had to memorize them. at that time being a teenager you dont understand anything of it. you just giggle.

Pushkin who raved about his death ironically lost his life after receiving fatal wounds in a duel.

He could not get over his jealousy of his beautiful wife. At an age when honor, principles and ideals were more important than life itself, he put his most beloved posessions all at stake. It is this sentiment that gathered people around things like socialism, wars of independence etc.

In other words, Pushkin´s was a completely different world that evolved on the ashes of a darker period.

you see, thats what i hate. the passion threw him on a pedestal and then killed.

its not only the age. its also a russian soul. live it with passion or die.

Pushkin was a star of a bygone age. His real merit was as a poet. He lived in a society the social dynamics of which were a lot different from those of today. We cannot judge past generations and their deeds based on the last minute universal set of rules. Mehmet the Conqueror issued a decree where he stated it would be suitable for any of his predecessors who have been lucky enough to become a sultan after him to kill his brothers for the benefit of the nation. We owe the capture of Istanbul to Mehmet II, there are bridges, districts named after him. His deeds are commemorated by all Turks. By today´s standards however, he was ....

I am omitting what I think he was in order not to offend people. He was what he was. Would he issue that decree if he lived today? He certainly wouldn´t...

look, im barely touching the times he lived in. what im mentioning is the nature of eastern people. the culture where there is no respect for life. its honor, feelings, image, love, passion, patriotism and death.

but pushkin is pushkin. wouldnt he have this nature would there be this thread?

we can judge anything we want. by judging we learn and take our lessons.

Now that you like to walk on this path, I suggest that you read Andre Siegfried who was one of the influences of Hitler. He wrote the book named Spirit of Nations which is probably still in print today. His school of thought led to The Holocaust. It therefore makes sense to stay clear off the docrtines laid out in Spirit of Nations where he raves about contrasts between East and West throughout the book. If you read that book you will find, this guy said the exact same things about the East hundred years ago.

Just in case you don´t want to find yourself in a cesspool of thinking when escaping from another which is communism; Siegfried says:

"God or Nature has created two kinds of races in nature: the boss who must direct, and the laborer who must obey. Which one is needed more? Obviously the laborer. Every thousand laborers calls for two to three bosses. So, God has created a European race - who is the boss, and an Eastern race - who is the laborer. This is why the birth rate of the East is 3%-5% annually, while for West is 1%." … He [Siegfried] further says, "What you see and tend to ignore on the sidewalk is a French gentleman, an average worker with blond hair and blue eyes, who can easily direct huge organizations and offices of the East. While, if you go to the East, you will find great thinkers and personalities who are incapable of directing a six-man organization. Why? Because the Western brain creates civilization and organization while the Eastern brain is sentimental, poetical, and theosophical." [Reference: L´Ame des peuples by Prof. André Siegfried  (Spirit of Nations),

oh no, now I regret I started this with you.   never go to poems section,  never go to poems section!   this is a lesson.

The thing is that, vineyards, I must be Nazi then, I tend to think exact the same way.

Although I dont think God created two races. God created two human beings.

But if you open your eyes, this is is the exact picture of the world. and its a fact. I accept and admit it.

 Oh lemonysnickets...what is life without passion?

a life without passion is PEACE!!! organized and predictable!

and very boring

You are welcome to enter any thread here as you have always been. You just made a generalization about Russians and Idealists (Romantics actually). This was in line with your previous remarks and I still feel my answer is consistent with your general discourse and that you would really benefit from reading that book which may help you make positive transfer from negative thinking.

Under the circumstances, you must not feel sour if I dub thee a neo-Nazi.

Although I would prefer you to make steps forward in your perception of the world...

 Well, then you are a Nazi and I am a Russian.....give me passion or give me death.

yes, but first you´ve gota kick vineyards soft eastern bum with passion to death!

we hardly can name pushkin russian, so you would better name him son of the time he lived in, society he was born etc. but stay away from him being russian by origin. he was struggling all the time bec he was not. he was blessed by poetic talent and that made him accepted by haut monde

there is great peace in morasses... toads´ croaking is also very nice. many people like to listen to it from time to time... probably to compare to nightingales´ singing ... though, toads forecast weather for next day as well... there is no useless things in nature ...

well, thats it!

I never ever enter this kinda thread!

I hate poetry, I hate Pushkin (PBUH), I hate russians, I hate vineyards too.

 I have no personal problems with you.

of course, you are the second sweetest person in the world

 Does this mean I am the first sweetest person, then? 

well, initially I thought it would be me. if you insist you can take it. i mean you would have to earn this.

better late than never...

though, dont like - dont eat. follow your won diet while others enjoy dessert

yeah, this is going to go into my "wisdom book".

you can be goodcomplete cycle emergency situation MInister ...

create emergency situation - solve situation

will sound damn nationalistic  but Mickiewicz was better!!!!!!!!!

 you wont PTASZKu, dont worry ...Mickiewicz was better and here is one of his poem

ODE TO YOUTH

by Adam Mickiewicz (1798-1855)

No Heart, no Spirit — Lo! cadaverous crowds!

O Youth! Pass me thy wings.

And let me o´er the dead earth soar;

Let me vanish in delusion´s clouds.

Where many the Zeal begets a wonder

And grows a flower of novelt}´ up yonder.

Adorned in Hope´s enamellings.

Who by his elder age shall darkened be

His toilsome forehead to the ground bent low.

Let him no more perceive or know

Than his thus lowered selfish eyes may see.

Youth! Up and over the horizons rise.
And smoothly penetrate
With Thy all-seeing eyes
The nations small and great.

Lo there! The space of dearth.

Where putrid vapors m the chaos wrestle:

´Tis Earth!

Up from the waters where the dead wind blows

A shell-clad Reptile rose.

He is his own rudder, sailor and vessel.

He often dives and rises up with little trouble.

For some smaller brutes he craves.

The waves cleave not to him nor he to the waves;

And suddenly he bumps upon a rock and bursts like a bubble.

Nobody knew his life, and of his death nobody wists.

Egoists!

Oh Youth! The ambrosia of life be Thine
When 1 with friends do share the time so sweet
When youthful hearts at heav´nly feasting meet
And golden threads around them all entwine.

 Ok girls, now you can introduce us to Mickiewitz poetry AWAY from Pushkin´s translatios ok?

ADAM MICKIEWICZ

Thanks in advance