yellow tulips and purple tulips, istanbul tulip festival, istanbul, pentax k10d
If half my heart is here, doctor,
the other half is in China
with the army flowing
toward the Yellow River.
And, every morning, doctor,
every morning at sunrise my heart
is shot in Greece.
And every night,c doctor,
when the prisoners are asleep and the infirmary is deserted,
my heart stops at a run-down old house
And then after ten years
all i have to offer my poor people
is this apple in my hand, doctor,
one read apple:
And that, doctor, that is the reason
for this angina pectoris–
not nicotine, prison, or arteriosclerosis.
I look at the night through the bars,
and despite the weight on my chest
my heart still beats with the most distant stars.
Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk (1993)
yellow flowers, istanbul, pentax k10d
You are the field
I am a tractor
you are paper
my wife, mother of my son
you are the folk-song
I—a shrill flute.
I am a night with moist breath from the south
while you are a woman strolling along the wharf
your gaze upon the lights of the opposite shore.
I am water
you—the one thirsting.
I am the one passing along the road
while you open a window
to lend me a helping hand.
You are China
I—the army of Mao-Tse-Tsung.
You are the fourteen-year-old girl
from the arms of an American sailor.
You are a village.
You cling to a mountainside in Anatolia.
You are my city
at its loveliest and most poignant.
You are the cry for help—my country—
And the one rushing towards you in stride—myself.
Nazim Hikmet (by Jean Carpenter Efe)