NECİP FAZIL KISAKÜREK-1905-1983
MY DEAR ISTANBUL
They have melted my soul and frozen it in a mould;
They have named it Istanbul, and put it on earth.
There’s something smoking inside me; air, colour, grace, and climate;
That’s my beloved who came from beyond time and place.
Its flowers are golden stars, its water is sweet;
The moon and the sun have always been Istanbullian.
The sea and the earth have reached their union in her
And the dreams have turned to reality in her.
Istanbul is my life;
my motherland…
Istanbul,
Istanbul…
History has eyes, the riddles on ancient walls;
Cypresses, cypresses are of fine stature, they’re the curtains
Of two worlds…
A steed rears up on the clouds;
Diamond domes, perhaps there are billions of steeds…
The minarets are index fingers pointing to the sky.
In every embroidery a meaning: we must die.
Death is more alive than life mercy is greater than sin;
When Beyoğlu is drowing in worldly pleasures,
Karcaahmet weeps…
Seek the meaning, find it!
Find it in Istanbul!
Istanbul,
Istanbul…
The Bosphorus, the silver brazier of the Bosphorus, boils the coolness;
The depths of heaven on earth are in Çamlıca.
Playful waters are the guests in the basement of the sea-side house;
A photo of the sad face of a former diplomat hangs on the wall.
Every evening flames on the windows in Üsküdar,
A haunded house, big as the city…
A song from the Ud or the Tanbour?
It sings “Katibim” behind the bay-windows…
Its women are like sharp knives,
Warm like fresh blood,
Istanbul,
Istanbul…
Time on the seven hills embroiders
Seven colours, seven voices, endless manifestation…!
Eyüp is an orphan, Kadiköy is dressed up, Moda is haughty,
Wind in the Island plays tricks with the girls.
Each dawn, the arrows fly from their bows.
Cries come from Topkapi Palace still.
The mothers are the best of sweethearts, Istanbul is the best of places;
Never mind the cheerful crowd, those who cry are happier.
It night smells hyacinth,
Its Turkish the nightingale’s voice.
Istanbul,
Istanbul…
