Turkish Poetry and Literature |
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Pushkin Turkish translation
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27 Feb 2010 Sat 06:19 pm |
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.
Edited (3/5/2010) by vineyards
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28 Feb 2010 Sun 01:08 am |
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)
Edited (2/28/2010) by slavica
[a typo, as always...]
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28 Feb 2010 Sun 01:15 am |
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)
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28 Feb 2010 Sun 01:19 am |
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...)
Edited (2/28/2010) by yakamozzz
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28 Feb 2010 Sun 09:48 pm |
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...
It would be nice if you reposted your translation of "Silvery Snow" and other Pushkin´s poems here.
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01 Mar 2010 Mon 01:29 am |
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.
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01 Mar 2010 Mon 01:33 am |
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)
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01 Mar 2010 Mon 11:21 am |
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...)
I remember we had to memorize them. at that time being a teenager you dont understand anything of it. you just giggle.
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01 Mar 2010 Mon 02:27 pm |
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.
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01 Mar 2010 Mon 03:03 pm |
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.
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