Nazim Hikmet He was born on a day like today in 1901 in Thessaloniki, then a Turkish city. It is considered the Most outstanding Turkish poet of the XNUMXth century. His revolutionary ideas forced him to live half his life in prison and exile. He also published theater and short stories and his work is marked by the influence of poets such as Mayakovsky. To remember or know him here is a selection of poems.
Nazim Hikmet - Poems
Girls like gold threads ...
Girls like threads of gold
in this european city
they walk around with slippers like ours.
Above the Istanbul that I carry inside the sky is clear.
A cypress, a fountain, Ãœsküdar.
Even if I ran, I would not reach
it would not reach the steam that is coming off the dock.
The fifth day of a hunger strike
If I can't express myself well, brothers,
What I want to tell you,
You will have to excuse me:
I feel some dizziness
My head is spinning a little.
It is not the alcohol.
It's just a little bit hungry.
Brothers,
Those of Europe, those of Asia, those of America:
I am not in prison or on a hunger strike.
I've stretched out on the grass tonight in May
And your eyes look at me very closely,
shining like stars,
As long as your hands
they are one hand shaking mine,
like my mother's,
like that of my beloved,
like my life.
My brothers:
On the other hand, you never abandoned me,
Not me, not my country,
nor to my people.
In the same way that I love you,
you want mine, I know.
Thank you, brothers, thank you.
My brothers:
I do not intend to die.
If I am killed,
I know that I will continue to live among you:
I will be in the poems of Aragon
(in his verse that sings the happiness of the future),
I will be in the dove of peace, by Picasso,
I'll be in Paul Robeson's songs
And above all
and what is more beautiful:
I will be in the triumphant laugh of the comrade,
Among the port shippers of Marseille.
To tell you the truth, brothers,
I am happy, happy to unleash.
The city, the afternoon and you
Between my arms you are naked
the city, the afternoon and you
your clarity illuminates my face
and also the smell of your hair.
Whose beats are these
that beat bom bom and get confused with our breath?
yours? from the city? pm?
Or maybe they are mine?
Where does the afternoon end where does the city begin
where does the city end where do you begin
where do i end where do i start?
Two loves
There is no room for two loves in a heart
mentira
can be.
In the city of cold rains
it's night and i'm lying in a hotel room
my eyes are fixed on high
clouds pass through the ceiling
heavy like trucks running on wet asphalt
and to the far right
a white construction
maybe a hundred stories
high above a golden needle shines.
Clouds pass through the ceiling
clouds loaded with suns like caiques of watermelons.
I sit on the windowsill
the reflection of the water caresses my face
Am I on the bank of a river
or by the sea?
What's on that tray
on that pink tray
strawberries or blackberries?
Am i in a field of daffodils
or in a snowy beech forest?
The women I love laugh and cry
in two languages.
Separation swings in the air like a rod of iron ...
Separation swings in the air like a rod of iron
that hits my face my face
i am stunned
I run away, separation follows me
I can not escape
my legs fail me I'll collapse
separation is not time or way
separation is a bridge between us
finer than hair sharper than a sword
finer than hair sharper than a sword
separation is a bridge between us
even when sitting our knees touch
Source: To half voice