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Sardunya┬┤ya Ağıt- Can Yucel/ Requiem to the Gerenium
(56 Messages in 6 pages - View all)
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1.       thehandsom
7403 posts
 06 Jul 2010 Tue 03:01 pm

 

Sardunya´ya Ağıt- Can Yucel

İkindiyin saat beşte
Baş gardiyan Rıza başta
Karalar bastı koğuşa
Ikindiyin saat beşte

Seyre durduk tantanayı
Tutuklayıp sardunyayı
Attılar dipkapalıya
İkindiyin saat beşte

Yataklık etmiş zaar
Suçu tevatür ve esrar
Elbet bir kızıllığı var
Ikindiyin saat beşte

Dirlik düzenlik kurtulur
Müdür koltuğa kurulur
Çiçek demire vurulur
İkindiyin saat beşte

Canların gözü yaşta
Aklı idamlık yoldaşta
Yeşil ölümle dalaşta
Sabahleyin saat beşte

 

=============

Requiem to the Gerenium


In the afternoon At five 

With the head warden Riza with a furious drive

Dark forces entered the hive 

In the afternoon At five 

 

As we started to watch the pantomime

They apprehended the geranium for its crime

And threw it into the deepest cell  for the first time 

In the afternoon At five 

 

It was harbouring  and deserved to be on blacklists

Its crimes are hearsays and weeds

Of course, it has to do with the communists

In the afternoon At five 

 

Peace is saved as well as harmony

The governor sits in his armchair comfortably

The flower is shackled detestably

In the afternoon At five

 

Can has a tear in his eye

His mind with his comrade about to die

Green squabbles with Death thereby

In the morning at five

 

Song by Yeni Turku

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OAwcaoDXz2E Music: Selim Atakan

 

My try

 



Edited (7/6/2010) by thehandsom [A minor correction :P]

nifrtity liked this message
2.       vineyards
1954 posts
 06 Jul 2010 Tue 04:55 pm

and my try as expected:

at five in the afternoon
led by Riza the head warden
men in black uniform broke in the dorm
at five in the afternoon

we watched the commotion
they captured the geranium
and put  him in a cell in the back
at five in the afternoon

guess he was an accomplice
yet his crime is mystery and rumour
he surely has a red connection
at five in the afternoon

welfare and order are safe now
the warden can warm his chair
the geranium is in shackles
at five in the afternoon

Can has tears in his eyes
His minds is set on his comrade
waiting for the green death in the death row
at five in the morning



Edited (7/6/2010) by vineyards

3.       lady in red
6947 posts
 06 Jul 2010 Tue 05:23 pm

Is there a TC Poetry Translation competition going on I didn´t hear about?  {#emotions_dlg.unsure}  - on this one my ´dix pointes´ go to TheHandsom - for cleverly managing to make the English translation rhyme like the original.

 



Edited (7/6/2010) by lady in red

4.       Daydreamer
3743 posts
 06 Jul 2010 Tue 08:12 pm

I´m not in the position to comment on the translation but I love the source text.

5.       vineyards
1954 posts
 07 Jul 2010 Wed 12:37 am

I have already explained elsewhere that I am making these translations to help a few people who are interested in Turkish poetry or poetry in general. You don´t have to vote for anything. I like different interpretations of songs similarly I like different translations. Rhyme may be so important in the English language, it is not very so for Turkish. We tend to consider rhyme an old fashioned technique. Just like painters are not required to make paintings resembling photographs, poets are not expected to write poems following strict rhyme patterns.

  

 

Quoting lady in red

Is there a TC Poetry Translation competition going on I didn´t hear about?  {#emotions_dlg.unsure}  - on this one my ´dix pointes´ go to TheHandsom - for cleverly managing to make the English translation rhyme like the original.

 

 

 

6.       lady in red
6947 posts
 07 Jul 2010 Wed 07:50 am

 

Quoting vineyards

I have already explained elsewhere that I am making these translations to help a few people who are interested in Turkish poetry or poetry in general. You don´t have to vote for anything. I like different interpretations of songs similarly I like different translations. Rhyme may be so important in the English language, it is not very so for Turkish. We tend to consider rhyme an old fashioned technique. Just like painters are not required to make paintings resembling photographs, poets are not expected to write poems following strict rhyme patterns.

 

I did intend my comment about a poetry competition to be a joke. {#emotions_dlg.sad}

I don´t think rhyme is important in English poetry any more than it is in Turkish poetry but the use of rhyme in this particular poem seemed to give it a certain rhythm with every line ending with exactly the same sound.  Not Can Yucel´s usual style is it? - so presumably he wrote it like this deliberately and therefore I thought a rhyming translation was a good one.

Just my opinion - I´m afraid I don´t have a degree in English Literature.

 

 

 

 

7.       peacetrain
1905 posts
 07 Jul 2010 Wed 09:26 am

 

Quoting vineyards

 Rhyme may be so important in the English language, it is not very so for Turkish. We tend to consider rhyme an old fashioned technique. Just like painters are not required to make paintings resembling photographs, poets are not expected to write poems following strict rhyme patterns.

I think you took LIR´s comment too seriously.  I understood her to be giving credit to theHandsom for cleverly managing to make the translation rhyme.  He obviously spent some time on it and some people do enjoy simply playing with words, so all credit to him.  Both translations are good for different reasons.  I wouldn´t say rhyme is SO important in the English language, any more than it is in any other language.  Different techniques are used in poetry, depending on the effect a poet wishes to produce, or the subject matter being explored.

IMO there´s a certain amount of snobbery, amongst some, in the Arts world.  My own opinion is, yes, it may be interesting to know what motivated the creator of a particular piece, but it´s also there to stir emotion/feelings/ideas in the audience.  It doesn´t matter how simplistic, complex, negative, positive etc. a response is, a response is a response and it´s a personal thing.  Words in a poem may be a trigger, likewise the rhythm (or lack of it) may also trigger an emotion. 

 

Lol . . . I remember visiting the Staats Gallery in Stuttgart and mistaking an umbrella in a brolly stand for a work of art {#emotions_dlg.whistle}.  It could have been worse . . . I might have been stood there for hours pondering.

 

I liked the subject matter of this poem and I´m reminded of one of my favourite genres in poetry . . . war poems.  This one was written during WWI, but I think it transcends time and nationality.

 

A Working Party

 
  Three hours ago he blundered up the trench,
Sliding and poising, groping with his boots;
Sometimes he tripped and lurched against the walls
With hands that pawed the sodden bags of chalk.
He couldn´t see the man who walked in front;
Only he heard the drum and rattle of feet
Stepping along barred trench boards, often splashing
Wretchedly where the sludge was ankle-deep.

Voices would grunt `Keep to your right -- make way!´
When squeezing past some men from the front-line:
White faces peered, puffing a point of red;
Candles and braziers glinted through the chinks
And curtain-flaps of dug-outs; then the gloom
Swallowed his sense of sight; he stooped and swore
Because a sagging wire had caught his neck.

A flare went up; the shining whiteness spread
And flickered upward, showing nimble rats
And mounds of glimmering sand-bags, bleached with rain;
Then the slow silver moment died in dark.
The wind came posting by with chilly gusts
And buffeting at the corners, piping thin.
And dreary through the crannies; rifle-shots
Would split and crack and sing along the night,
And shells came calmly through the drizzling air
To burst with hollow bang below the hill.

Three hours ago, he stumbled up the trench;
Now he will never walk that road again:
He must be carried back, a jolting lump
Beyond all needs of tenderness and care.

He was a young man with a meagre wife
And two small children in a Midland town,
He showed their photographs to all his mates,
And they considered him a decent chap
Who did his work and hadn´t much to say,
And always laughed at other people´s jokes
Because he hadn´t any of his own.

That night when he was busy at his job
Of piling bags along the parapet,
He thought how slow time went, stamping his feet
And blowing on his fingers, pinched with cold.
He thought of getting back by half-past twelve,
And tot of rum to send him warm to sleep
In draughty dug-out frowsty with the fumes
Of coke, and full of snoring weary men.

He pushed another bag along the top,
Craning his body outward; then a flare
Gave one white glimpse of No Man´s Land and wire;
And as he dropped his head the instant split
His startled life with lead, and all went out.

Siegfried Sassoon

 

Another favourite poet of mine is Roger McGough (ex Scaffold member).  He loves playing with words.  The only one I know my heart is . . .

"To amuse emus on warm summer nights,

Kiwis do weewees from spectacular heights."

 

Rhyme is also a very important tool for literacy in children :

http://www.buzzle.com/articles/learning-read-rhyme-important.html

 

Of course this doesn´t mean to say rhyme is a childish technique.

 

Thanks, boys for both translations {#emotions_dlg.flowers}

8.       lady in red
6947 posts
 07 Jul 2010 Wed 09:54 am

 

Quoting peacetrain

 

 

A Working Party

 
 
 
 
   
 
   
 
   
 
   
 
  Three hours ago he blundered up the trench,
Sliding and poising, groping with his boots;
Sometimes he tripped and lurched against the walls
With hands that pawed the sodden bags of chalk.
He couldn´t see the man who walked in front;
Only he heard the drum and rattle of feet
Stepping along barred trench boards, often splashing
Wretchedly where the sludge was ankle-deep.

Voices would grunt `Keep to your right -- make way!´
When squeezing past some men from the front-line:
White faces peered, puffing a point of red;
Candles and braziers glinted through the chinks
And curtain-flaps of dug-outs; then the gloom
Swallowed his sense of sight; he stooped and swore
Because a sagging wire had caught his neck.

A flare went up; the shining whiteness spread
And flickered upward, showing nimble rats
And mounds of glimmering sand-bags, bleached with rain;
Then the slow silver moment died in dark.
The wind came posting by with chilly gusts
And buffeting at the corners, piping thin.
And dreary through the crannies; rifle-shots
Would split and crack and sing along the night,
And shells came calmly through the drizzling air
To burst with hollow bang below the hill.

Three hours ago, he stumbled up the trench;
Now he will never walk that road again:
He must be carried back, a jolting lump
Beyond all needs of tenderness and care.

He was a young man with a meagre wife
And two small children in a Midland town,
He showed their photographs to all his mates,
And they considered him a decent chap
Who did his work and hadn´t much to say,
And always laughed at other people´s jokes
Because he hadn´t any of his own.

That night when he was busy at his job
Of piling bags along the parapet,
He thought how slow time went, stamping his feet
And blowing on his fingers, pinched with cold.
He thought of getting back by half-past twelve,
And tot of rum to send him warm to sleep
In draughty dug-out frowsty with the fumes
Of coke, and full of snoring weary men.

He pushed another bag along the top,
Craning his body outward; then a flare
Gave one white glimpse of No Man´s Land and wire;
And as he dropped his head the instant split
His startled life with lead, and all went out.

Siegfried Sassoon

 

Thanks, boys for both translations {#emotions_dlg.flowers}

 

What´s the saying? ´I don´t know much about poetry (art/music) but I do know what I like´! And I like this very moving poem.  [I do know who Siegfried Sassoon is btw ]

 

9.       vineyards
1954 posts
 07 Jul 2010 Wed 10:53 am

Thanks for your comments. These translations appear exclusively on Turkish Class and they are meant for notifying users of their existence. In most cases, there are no English translations. Advanced learners of Turkish could use them in their studies.

In the past, a few people suggested that I compile these and publish elsewhere. I told them that most of these poems are five minute translations and that I do not consider them valuable from an artistic point of view.

I feel the best way to contribute from an educational point of view would be offering alternative translations. This is pretty much what I am doing.



Edited (7/7/2010) by vineyards

10.       thehandsom
7403 posts
 07 Jul 2010 Wed 11:47 am

 

Quoting lady in red

Is there a TC Poetry Translation competition going on I didn´t hear about?  {#emotions_dlg.unsure}  - on this one my ´dix pointes´ go to TheHandsom - for cleverly managing to make the English translation rhyme like the original.

 

 

Ha ha.. It seems like..

Thanks for the ´dix pointes´ but what are ´dix pointes´ exactly?

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