Category Archives: Reflections

A Voice from Africa in Turkish

“In Africa”, a poem by Emeghara Collins © March 4, 2019 ~ Translation into Turkish by hülya n. yılmaz © March 6, 2019

In Africa

Like
the ants…

We’re the restless
people of the world…

People in
endless torment…

And must sing
praises in shame…

If any man
from Africa…

Should
go to hell…

That’ll mean
a cheat o Lord…

For in Africa
we live in hell…

We live in
hell o man…

For with our hands
we bury our children…

With our eyes
we see our own death…

Mr preacher, preach
about hell no more…

For in Africa
we’re already in hell…

We live in
hell o man…

Our belly the mirror
of our economy…

Our lives, used to
kola the terrorists…

In Africa
we live in hell…

We live in
hell o man…

How do I manage
these tears in my eyes?

How do I convince
myself, it was all a lie?

Polling units an alter
we must offer our blood…

Go back and
tell God o preacher…

That in Africa
we’re already in hell…

Oh, we live
in hell o man…

Look at those
singing in shame…

Watch their shoes,
longing for summer…

Behind
their eyes…

Lay huge lump
of frustration…

You ask of truth
here is the truth…

In my Africa
we live in hell…

We live in
hell o man…

For mothers watch
as their child is buried…

Yet, we blow
trumpets in shame…

Instead of standing
naked in our holy places…

To seek the
face of God…

For a naked man has
no pocket to put his hands…

Yes
It’s true…

All copyrights@reserved
Emeghara Collins
March 4th
2019.

“Afrika’da”

Karıncalar gibi . . .

Biz dünyanın kıpır kıpır

Insanlarıyız . . .

Bitmez acılar içindeki

Insanları . . .

Ve utanç içinde

Övgüler söylemeye mecburuz . . .

Eğer ki, Afrikadan herhangi bir ınsan

Cehenneme giderse . . .

Bu bir aldatmaca olur,

Tanrım . . .

Zira biz cehennemde

Yaşıyoruz, a be dostum . . .

Biz cehennemde yaşıyoruz . . .

Çünkü kendi ellerimizle

Çocuklarımızı toprağa veriyoruz . . .

Kendi gözlerimizle

Kendi ölümümüzü izliyoruz . . .

Sayın vaiz, cehennem üzerine

Vaazlar verme artık . . .

Zira Afrika’da

Biz zaten cehennemdeyiz . . .

Biz cehennemdeyiz, a be dostum . . .

Karınlarımız

Ekonomimizin aynası . . .

Hayatlarımız

Teröristlere yatak . . .

Afrika’da biz

Cehennemde yaşıyoruz . . .

Biz cehennemde yaşıyoruz, a be dostum . . .

Gözlerimdeki bu yaşların

Nasıl mı geliyorum üstesinden . . .

Nasıl mı inandırıyorum kendimi

Her şeyin bir yalan olduğuna . . .

Oy sandıkları birer adak taşı

Kanımızı ikram etmeye mecburuz . . .

Dön, geldiğin yere geri git ve Tanrıya söyle,

Sayın vaiz . . .

Afrika’da zaten cehennemde olduğumuzu . . .

Amanlar olsun ki,

Biz cehennemde yaşıyoruz, a be dostum . . .

Baksana, şu utanç içinde övgü şarkıları söyleyenlere . . .

Ayaklarındakine bir baksana,

Nasıl da bir yaz mevsiminin özlemi içindeler . . .

Gözlerinde

Buğu buğu bir hüsran . . .

Gerçeği merak ediyorsun ya hani,

Işte gerçek . . .

Benim Afrikamda

Biz cehennemde yaşıyoruz . . .

Biz cehennemde yaşıyoruz, a be dostum . . .

Çünkü annelerin gözü önünde

Yavruları gömülüyor . . .

Ama biz ne yapıyoruz,

Borazanlarımızı çalıyoruz utanç içinde . . .

Kutsal yerlerimizde çırılçıplak

Ayakta kalıp Tanrının yüzünü aramak üzere . . .

Çünkü çıplak bir insanın

Ellerini koyacağı bir cebi olmaz hiç . . .

Evet,

Doğru,

Gerçek işte bu . . .

 

6 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Reflections

On the Road Again

not empirically

reflecting
reminiscing
contemplating
all my beloveds, in my love-line
to be remembered at the core of my being
entering my soul’s depths again one by one

i am trying hard not to feel sad
for their passing to death or to life
surely, they, like i, faced many a strife
but they also were given, like i, many a smile

a sorry excuse for a selfish sense of comfort . . .

have i been loving enough?
have i hugged them with a caring
that had by far surpassed the empirical?

on the road again

questions galore

if only one more lifetime with them
could knock today on my self’s door . . .

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, February 27, 2019

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry, Reflections

Soul’s Letters

Mommy, I know you cry and cry.
I know you miss me so much.
I miss you, and Daddy too.
And so very much.
Mommy, did I do something to that man?
Did I break a window of his house
With my soccer ball?
You always told me to be careful
And I really, really was.
If Idid, I didn’t mean it, Mommy!
Why did he do those horrible things to me?
I was so happy with you and Daddy!
He was that monster under my bed, Mommy.
I know you told me every time I was
Too scared to go to bed to sleep
“There are no monsters, my Sweetie!”
But that monster was real, Mommy!
And on that day, he came and snatched me
From your beautiful Mommy-hands.
I was never scared like that before.
And what he did hurt so much, Mommy!
Why did he cut my head off?
You so loved kissing me on my forehead,
“Rosy-cheeks”, you always said
About my face.
And you loved my long, thick hair so!
You always caressed each strand so gently,
Afraid that your hairbrush
Could hurt me because of a knot.
It all fell to the ground with my head.
I know how much you are hurting now.
You loved me so.
And I loved you and Daddy so.
I miss you both and want to come home.
I so badly want to come home.
But I can’t anymore.

Mommy, I want to tell you about a stranger.
A woman far, far, very far away
From our home.
She sees me in her nightmares every night.
During the day,
She cradles me, keeps me warm inside her heart.
Her heart is so gentle, so tender.
She feels for you and Daddy so.
Last night, she cried many
Many many tears again.
She was shaking in agony for me.
She hurt so much inside
Because of my death.
She wrote to her Mommy
About my final breath.
She is a Mommy too and a Grandma.
Her grandson is almost as old as I was.
He has a bright and beautiful smile as I did.
I will not see my grandmas anymore.
They too loved me so.
This woman is by my side, Mommy.
Since that day my head was cut off.
Since the moment I stopped breathing.
So, try, please try
Not to be too sad, okay?
I must go now, Mommy.
I must go now, Daddy.
Bye.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mom:

it has been too long of a while
since i talked to you the last time
forgive me for my grave absence
i feel terrible and lost these days,
preoccupied, needing your
insightful, loving presence . . .

i don’t know what to do
with our world anymore

we live in dark times,
struggling to get through
too many people are lusting after hate
too many so-called leaders
have for long made hatred their mate

children die again and again
in the hands of war-mongers
children die again and again
in the hands of their parents
in many a vicious way

my breath is in direst need
for a prolonged delay

a beautiful little boy was killed
in the most brutal way ten days ago
what a beautiful child he was!
long, wavy black hair
Angel-eyes, coal-black
and a sunshiny smile,
one that was meant to shine
until his nature-required last day

i cannot get him out of my mind!

he comes to my sleep every night
my heart is an entirely different story

how lucky my brother and i have been!
we never met a monster in real life
these days, however, they are aplenty
and they come in many a shape and size

i often think of your love and tender touch
only to realize that i still miss you too much
i also miss those years of innocence
and light

our times offer time and again
darkness galore,
filled with too hard-to-handle,
plentiful plight

i don’t know what to do
with our world anymore,

we live in dark times,
struggling to get through

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, 2.21.2019

In honor of Zakariya al-Jaber who was beheaded by a religious fanatic in Saudi Arabia on February 8th, 2019

Leave a comment

Filed under Reflections

“Taking Loved Ones for Granted”

taking loved ones for granted . . .

my beloved said these words this morning
as a response to my unease with my self
about matters pressing hard on my psyche

he was not judging,
only listening through his heart
reason joined in on our soulful exchange

my dis-ease of the self in many of its aspects
had to come out and speak up,
for the dissatisfaction i have been having
with my wholesome embrace of my loved ones
had become severe, so severe that i knew
deep inside something had to change

a serious improvement was long overdue

my love is immense, it has been always,
but not so my actual actions

so, as i am examining my spirit at its core
i am jotting down these random lines
to have my contemplations, reflections,
emotions, thoughts, potentials,
capabilities, abilities and potential for a
higher consciousness chime in anew,
and i realize how much more there is
that i am ready and willing to do,
to say, to feel, to show, to reassure
and to confirm where my love is due

a self-examination of one’s own awareness
about life’s truly-mattering matters
is what i now find myself do

and this realization
arrived at my doorstep
not a moment too soon

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, February 15, 2019

7 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Reflections

Lamenting over Zakariya al-Jaber, 6

nasıl kıydılar sana, masum bebek
Şii misin, Sünni misin ne demek
kırık camla boynunu bıçaklamış
iki ayaklı o mahlûk defalarca
o her yanı öpülesi güzel başını
koparmış kim bilir ne kadar süren
yürek kaldırmayan işkencenden sonra
bir de çaresizliğinin vahşeti içinde
akıl almaz bir melek katliamı
yaşayan anneciğinin çığlıkları altında

lânet olsun senin din anlayışına, ey yetişkin mahluk
lanet olsun senin gibi iki ayaklı hayvanlara
lanet olsun taksi kullanabilen
sürüngenden beter
hiç yaşamamış olsa
tibbi bir deneye yararı olabilecek
o ruhtan yoksun lanet olası varlığına

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, 2.11.2019

Bugün Suudi Arabistanda bir taksi şoförü tarafından katledilen 6 yaşındaki minik meleğin anısına

In honor of Zakariya al-Jaber, 6 years old, who was brutally murdered in Saudi Arabia for being a Shiite Muslim. My anguish at this news was so overwhelming that I only could write a few words in my native tongue. May such atrocities never come on to the path of another little angel. Anywhere. In the notoriously inhumane Saudi Arabia, in particular.

“Saudi Arabia: Boy beheaded [. . .]”

4 Comments

Filed under Reflections

A Renga in Turkish (with English translation)

iyi ki kalem var
kalbimin elinde
sesli mi sesli

sevgim susardı yoksa
suni mesafelerde

anlatamazdı özüm
fani benliğimi hiç

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, 24 Ocak, 2019

(In English translation, not in the Renga form)

a blessing it is
that my heart’s pen is voiced
my love otherwise would have to remain
without a sound
in our forced distancing

it would be incapable of
speaking for my mortal self

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, January 24, 2019

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry, Reflections

An Attempt at a Renga-Poem

The following information on the poetic form Renga stems from poets.org (the underlined parts are my own doing because of my intent to invite you, dear reader to consider giving this tradition a chance in the “Comments” section of this post):

“Renga, meaning ‘linked poem,’ began over seven hundred years ago in Japan to encourage the collaborative composition of poems. Poets worked in pairs or small groups, taking turns composing the alternating three-line and two-line stanzas. [. . .] To create a renga, one poet writes the first stanza, which is three lines long with a total of seventeen syllables. The next poet adds the second stanza, a couplet with seven syllables per line. The third stanza repeats the structure of the first and the fourth repeats the second, alternating in this pattern until the poem’s end. [. . .] Thematic elements of renga are perhaps most crucial to the poem’s success. The language is often pastoral, incorporating words and images associated with seasons, nature, and love. In order for the poem to achieve its trajectory, each poet writes a new stanza that leaps from only the stanza preceding it. This leap advances both the thematic movement as well as maintaining the linking component.”

And here comes my attempt at a Renga-poem:

leaves began to rain from the sky
the Sun cried its rays
clouds yelled their blues

© hülya n. yılmaz, January 1, 2019

 

 

1 Comment

Filed under Poetry, Reflections