Merhabalar! I have recently discovered Fikret Kızılok, and I have come to love several of his songs: "Anadoluyum," "Gözlerinden Bellidir," "Zaman, Zaman." I am still exploring his music, and the other night I found "Istanbul." Bu şarkıyı biliyor musunuz? It comes from a 1998 album called "Devrimcinin Güncesi," or "A Revolutionary´s Diary." I liked the song at first merely for the music, for the sound of Fikret´s voice (much of the song is narrated, rather than sung) and because I could catch a few words here and there that I understood. Then I started to translate the song and was stunned to realize that he had set the actual words of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk to music! At least, I think this is the case. ... Below is my attempt to translate the words (sorry, this is rather long). The little song at the end is actually sung in Greek on the recording, but I found a Turkish translation on the Internet. ... I´m wondering if anyone knows more about the background of this album. What was Fikret´s message? I know that he stopped making music for a while during the late 1970s to early 1980s because of the political situation in Turkey. Was he asking people to remember the roots of modern Turkish society, to remember the principles of Atatürk? I am very curious, but it is difficult for me to find much in English on this topic. ... Teşekkürler! ... Oh, there is a link below if you would like to listen to the song. Sorry but I was able to find it only on YouTube.
İstanbul... daha ilk bakışta ortaçağı hatırlattı bana. Sanki insanlar hala yüzyıllar öncesi gibi yaşıyordu. Kara çarşaflı, peçeli hayaletler gibi karanlık basmadan korkudan evlerine koşuşan kadınlar...
Istanbul ... at first glance it reminds me more of the Middle Ages. It´s as if people are still living like hundreds of years ago. Women, like ghosts in dark robes and veils, who run to their houses from fear of darkness falling.
Asma çardaklarının gölgesinde günde beş vakit ezan sesiyle kımıldayan çehreler...
In the shade of grape arbors, sour faces that stir five times a day with the sound of the call to prayer ...
Haliç´in ötesinde ölü bir görüntüden ibaret kalan Türk mahalleleri ve Şark´ın değişmez sessizliği... uyuyorlar.
Beyond the Golden Horn, Turkish quarters made up of dead apparitions, and the silence of the East does not change. ... They are sleeping.
Oysa Beyoğlu, Pera ve baş döndürücü sokakların sonunda liman, şık faytonlar, mağazalar, tiyatrolar, müzikaller... bambaşka bir sosyal çehre... vergi vermeyen, sırtını kapitülasyonlara dayamış, merkezi hükümete önem vermeksizin yaşayan bir bambaşka İstanbul...
Yet Beyoğlu, Pera and the port at the end of its amazing streets, stylish phaetons, large stores, theaters, musicals ... a completely different social aspect ... not paying taxes, they relied on the protection of capitulations, a completely different Istanbul that lives well without considering the capital important.
Osmanlı´nın üzerindeki yabancı baskısı o derece şiddetliydi ki sanki Türkler kendi vatanlarında esir, yabancılar efendiydiler.
Foreigners who are over the Ottomans. The pressure of it is intense to a degree that it seems Turks are slaves in their own country. Foreigners are the masters.
Aklıma Tevfik Fikret´in "Sis" şiiri gelirdi: İstanbul -- Facire i dehr... dünyanın koca kahpesi... "İlk hükümdarlar İstanbullu olsaydı Osmanlı diye bir şey olamazdı." derdim. Hangi devlet olursa olsun burada çürür.
To my mind, Tevfik Fikret´s poem "Fog" acknowledges the truth at last: Istanbul -- The gutter of the world ... the world´s grand whore. "If the first rulers had been from Istanbul, the Ottomans would not be considered anything," I used to say. No matter what the government is, it will rot.
Ama İstanbul´dan hoşlanıyordum. Fuat(Cebesoy)´la arkadaş olmuştuk. Onunla İstanbul´u gezerdik. Keşfetmediğimiz yeri kalmamıştı. Bir gün kayıkla büyük adaya gittik. Çalıların arasında kamp kurduk. Kap kacak, çıra, yiyecekler getirdik. Bir şişe de rakı...
But I have enjoyed Istanbul. Fuat and I were friends. We used to wander around Istanbul together. We did not stop anywhere we did not find something new. One day we went to the Big Island by caique. We set up camp amid the bushes. We brought plates, pots and pans, lamps, food. A bottle of rakı.
Bu anason kokulu içkiyi hiç denememiştim. Birayı bilirdim, bazen de şarap... Sonra Sarayburnu, Boğaz ve Haliç: Rum, Ermeni ve Türkler...tarihin yazgısı onları "ah" ile "vah" arasında bir çizgide bırakmıştı. Aynı kayıkta biri Yani, biri Mehmet: Aynı kayığı paylaşan iki kürek.
I had not tried this anise-scented liquor. I used to be acquainted with beer, sometimes also wine. ... Then the Seraglio Point, the Bosporus and the Golden Horn: Greeks, Armenians and Turks ... the destiny of history left them on a line between "alas" and "what a pity." Someone named Yani and someone named Mehmet are in the same caique: Two oars sharing the same caique.
boğaziçinde yanni ile mehmet -- mehmet and yani on the bosporus günbatımında oturur yanyana -- they sit side by side at sunset ağlamaya başlar yanni -- yani starts to cry mehmet de bir yandan içer, -- from one side, mehmet smokes
bir yandan şarkısını söyler: -- from one side, he sings the song:
ben turkum sen rum -- i am a turk, you are a greek ben de halkım sen de halksın -- i am common folk, you are common folk senin ınancın isa benimki allah -- your belief is Jesus, mine is Allah ama ikimize de düşen ah ve vah -- but both of us also falling, alas and what a pity
biraz sevgi ve biraz şarapla -- with a little love and a little wine sende sarhoş olursun, bende -- you will become drunk, me also al iç tasımdan -- take and drink from my cup adelfi ve kardeşım -- my sister and my brother
ben turkum sen rum -- i am a turk, you are a greek ben de halkım sen de halksın -- i am common folk, you are common folk senin ınancın isa benimki allah -- your belief is jesus, mine is allah ama ikimize de düşen ah ve vah -- but both of us also falling, alas and what a pity
Edited (12/14/2014) by trip
Edited (12/14/2014) by trip
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