Hello, poetry lovers

Thank to Chuvash, who posted link to Poetryconnection.net, amazing site for poetry lovers, I have a great pleasure to recommend you poetry of one of the greatest world poets ever – Pablo Neruda.

His poems, especially love poems, could be found in every anthology of world poetry.

One of his best poems (and my favourite) - Bu Gece En Hüzünlü Şiiri Yazabilirim/ I Can Write the Saddest Poem Tonight - you can find at our site's "Turkish poetry" with Turkish translation.
http://www.turkishclass.com/poem_77

Folowing poems don't have Turkish translation, but maybe someone od you could find and post it.

XVII (I do not love you...)

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.


I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

I recommend you Neruda's other poems, I'm sure you'll enjoy them

http://www.poetryconnection.net/poets/Pablo_Neruda

IN MY SKY AT TWILIGHT

Pablo Neruda
This poem is a paraphrase ot the 30th poem
in Rabindranath Tagore's The Gardener,

In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depths of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are takenin the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins

Trans. W.S. Merwin

To my lovely Sibel

wow, Pablo Neruda is indeed a wonderful poet, a great inspiration of mine too. I love the imagery he uses, he portrays love so wonderfully. Thank you for sharing these. Here is another lovely poem from him...

CLENCHED SOUL ~ Pablo Neruda

We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings
toward the twilight erasing statues.

Hello Carla,
Thank you for the lovely poem.I love it.I am glad you are Neruda's fan too.Here is one more poem especially for you.

DRUNK AS DRUNK

Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made out of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it - our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal -
Over the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.

Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox, drowzy and tangled together
We drifted for months and woke
With the bitter taste of land on our lips,
Eylids all sticky, and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well. Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles,
And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.

Pablo Neruda
Trans. W.S. Merwin

Oh, finally! I've lost any hope that some fan of Neruda will appear!
Hello, Bliss, my dear! Thanks for your dedication and beautiful poems!
Hello, Carla Welcome to the club! Poem you posted is amazing, so sad and tender, typical for Neruda. Thank you so much
And this Neruda's masterpiece is my present for two of you and for all poetry lovers.
Enjoy it!

Pablo Neruda - Don't Go Far Off, Not Even For A Day

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

By the way, we still don't have any Neruda's poem translated to Turkish, except mentioned Admin's translation at our site's "Turkish poetry".

Cyrano, could you help us as always? Please

Hello there,
Dear Slavica, this is for you.

PABLO NERUDA

WALKING AROUND

It so happens I am sick of being a man.
And it happens that I walk into tailorshops and movie
houses
dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt
steering my way in a water of wombs and ashes.

The smell of barbershops makes me break into hoarse
sobs.
The only thing I want is to lie still like stones or wool.
The only thing I want is to see no more stores, no gardens,
no more goods, no spectacles, no elevators.

It so happens that I am sick of my feet and my nails
and my hair and my shadow.
It so happens I am sick of being a man.

Still it would be marvelous
to terrify a law clerk with a cut lily,
or kill a nun with a blow on the ear.
It would be great
to go through the streets with a green knife
letting out yells until I died of the cold.

I don't want to go on being a root in the dark,
insecure, stretched out, shivering with sleep,
going on down, into the moist guts of the earth,
taking in and thinking, eating every day.

I don't want so much misery.
I don't want to go on as a root and a tomb,
alone under the ground, a warehouse with corpses,
half frozen, dying of grief.

That's why Monday, when it sees me coming
with my convict face, blazes up like gasoline,
and it howls on its way like a wounded wheel,
and leaves tracks full of warm blood leading toward the
night.

And it pushes me into certain corners, into some moist
houses,
into hospitals where the bones fly out the window,
into shoeshops that smell like vinegar,
and certain streets hideous as cracks in the skin.

There are sulphur-colored birds, and hideous intestines
hanging over the doors of houses that I hate,
and there are false teeth forgotten in a coffeepot,
there are mirrors
that ought to have wept from shame and terror,
there are umbrellas everywhere, and venoms, and umbilical
cords.

I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes,
my rage, forgetting everything,
I walk by, going through office buildings and orthopedic
shops,
and courtyards with washing hanging from the line:
underwear, towels and shirts from which slow
dirty tears are falling.



Yoruldum işte insan olmaktan
Terzilere, sinemalara gidiyorum işte,
şaşkınım, kapalıyım çuhadan bir kuğu gibi
sorular, küller denizinde salınıyorum.

Ağlıyorum berberlerin kokusunu duyunca.
Tek istediğim dinlenmek, kurtulmak taşlardan,
bahçelerden kurtulmak, yünden, köşklerden,
mallardan, gözlüklerden, asansörlerden.

Yoruldum ayaklarımdan işte, tırnaklarımdan,
gölgemden, saçlarımdan,
yoruldum işte insan olmaktan.

Nefis bir şey olurdu ama
bir noteri kesik bir zambakla korkutmak
ya da kulaktozuna vurup öldürmek bir rahibeyi

Ne güzel olurdu
yeşil bir bıçakla koşmak sokaklarda
soğuktan ölünceye kadar bağırarak.

Yaşamak istemiyorum karanlıkta ot gibi,
uykuda titreyerek, kararsız, şaşkın,
her dakika düşÃ¼nmek, her gün bir şeyler yemek
ıslak dehlizlerine inip dünyanın.

Bana göre değil bu rezillikler.
Bana göre değil ot olmak, mezar olmak,
ıssız bir tünel olmak, bir cesetler mahzeni
acı içinde ölmek, kaskatı kesilmek soğuktan.

Bu yüzden ışıldıyor Pazartesi günleri
o zindansı yüzümle beni görünce,
kırık bir tekerlek gibi geçip giderken
ılık kan yolları uzatıyor geceye.

Köşelere itiyor beni, köhne evlere bir şey,
camlarından kemik savrulan hastanelere,
kundura tamircilerine, sirke kokan,
uçuruma benzeyen korkunç sokaklara.

Kükürt rengi kuşlar, iğrenç barsaklar asılmış
tiksindiğim evlerin kapılarına,
çaydanlıkta unutulmuş takma dişleri var, utançla, korkuyla ağlayan
aynalar
şemsiyeler, zehirler, göbek bağları her yanda.

sessizce yürüyorum gözlerle, kunduralarla,
öfkeyle, unutuluşla,
geçiyorum büroların, dükkânların önünden,
iplerine çamaşır asılı avlulardan
donlardan, havlulardan, gömleklerden,
kirli gözyaşı akıtıyorlar usulca.

Çeviren: Ülkü Tamer
Pablo Neruda


Cyrano! Your turn, please!

Thank you so much, dear Bliss Now Turkish natural speakers can also fully enjoy Neruda's poem. Unfortunately, I have only english translations. This is my next pick – one of his the most beautiful love poems:

Sonnet LXXXI

And now you're mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.

No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.

Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
and let their soft drifting signs drop away;
your eyes closed like two gray wings, and I move

after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.


Pure essence of love, don't you think?

By the way - Cyrano where are you? We need you here

Merhaba arkadaşlar,

Yes, now it is my turn. And I know a poem which is especially suitable to post here. As you know, Neruda had written that poem after Nazim Hikmet's death. Here is:


NAZIM'A BİR GÃœZ ÇELENGİ

Neden öldün Nâzım? Senin türkülerinden yoksun ne yapacağız
şimdi
Senin bizi karşılarkenki gülümseyişin gibi bir pınar bulabilecek
miyiz bir daha?
Senin gururundan, sert sevecenliğinden yoksun ne yapacağız?
Bakışın gibi bir bakışı nereden bulmalı, ateşle suyun birleştiği
Gerçeğe çağıran, acıyla ve gözüpek bir sevinçle dolu?
Kardeşim benim, nice yeni duygular, düşÃ¼nceler kazandırdın
bana
Denizden esen acı rüzgâr katsaydı önüne onları
Bulutlar gibi yaprak gibi uçarlar
Düşerlerdi orada, uzakta,
Yaşarken kendine seçtiğin
Ve ölüm sonrasında seni kucaklayan toprağa

Sana Şili'nin kış krizantemlerinden bir demet sunuyorum
Ve soğuk ay ışığını güney denizleri üstünde parıldayan
Halkların kavgasını ve kavgamı benim
Ve boğuk uğultusunu acılı davulların, kendi yurdundan...

Kardeşim benim, adanmış asker, dünyada nasıl da yalnızım
sensiz
Senin çiçek açmış bir kiraz ağacına benzeyen yüzünden
yoksun
Dostluğumuzdan, bana ekmek olan,
Rahmet gibi susuzluğumu gideren ve kanıma güç katan.

Zindanlardan kopup geldiğinde karşılaşmıştık seninle
Kuyu gibi kapkara zindanlardan
Canavarlıkların, zorbalıkların, acıların kuyuları
Ellerinde izi vardı eziyetlerin
Hınç oklarını aradım gözlerinde
Oysa sen parıldayan bir yürekle geldin
Yaralar ve ışıklar içinde

Şimdi ben ne yapayım? Nasıl tanımlar
Senin her yerden derlediğin çiçekler olmaksızın bu dünya.
Nasıl dövüşÃ¼lür senden örnek almaksızın,
Senin halksal bilgeliğinden ve yüce şair onurundan yoksun?
Teşekkürler, böyle olduğun için! Teşekkürler o ateş için
Türkülerinle tutuşturduğun, sonsuzca.

Pablo NERUDA

(Çeviren: Ataol BEHRAMOĞLU)

Hello my dear friends.
Thank you so much for the poems.
Sestrichka, you are great.How do you know which poems I love much.You are amazing!
Cyrano, Thank you for the memory you brougth back.I read that poem long time ago and was wondering to find.Thank you so much.I have to think about next one. They all are wonderful.
But Slavica is right , we have to find with Turkish translations.
Take care.

This is one more beautiful poem of great Neruda.
Cyrano, you must find Turkish translation

I like you calm, as if you were absent’

I like you calm, as if you were absent,
and you hear me far-off, and my voice does not touch you.
It seems that your eyelids have taken to flying:
it seems that a kiss has sealed up your mouth.

Since all these things are filled with my spirit,
you come from things, filled with my spirit.
You appear as my soul, as the butterfly’s dreaming,
and you appear as Sadness’s word.

I like you calm, as if you were distant,
you are a moaning, a butterfly’s cooing.
You hear me far-off, my voice does not reach you.
Let me be calmed, then, calmed by your silence.

Let me commune, then, commune with your silence,
clear as a light, and pure as a ring.
You are like night, calmed, constellated.
Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.

I like you calm, as if you were absent:
distant and saddened, as if you were dead.
One word at that moment, a smile, is sufficient.
And I thrill, then, I thrill: that it cannot be so.

And more links for Pablo Neruda's translated poetry:
http://www.poemhunter.com/pablo-neruda/poems/poet-6638/page-1/
http://www.angelfire.com/poetry/yourpage/neruda.html