Tag Archives: love

Literary translation or butchering the dignity of a language?

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In the following line pair, there is one word that places a serious challenge to a translation in English when loyalty to the expressed sentiment in the Turkish original is concerned, and that word is “can”:

neden bu kadar yanıyorsun ki, can?
seni kendine can görmemiş işte canan

hülya n. yılmaz, 7.14.2015

The short-cut I offer as my image selection is self-explanatory: there is intense pain involved. As for the sentiment of focus, it is nothing original. We have heard it many times before, perhaps even personally lived or are living through it at the moment: imbalanced love of romantic nature. To be somewhat more succinct: one of the involved persons having made a heavy emotional investment in it, while the other one has not. While all of this is too familiar to us, the particular diction is not. For in the English wording of “can” lies the literary translator’s dilemma.

I had posted the lines above on one of my social media platforms recently as you see from the original date showing, and was pleasantly surprised at the reaction they had received from Turkish readers. I thought about translating it to English based on the positive responses but never got around doing so until today. But first, I must visit the key word in question with you: “can” could be used in the meaning of “life, essence, soul, heart” and the likes, and with it, Turkish language users refer to a loved one – not at all exclusively to someone with whom they are romantically involved. However, it may be used as such. That is, if a writer or a speaker chooses to apply such meaning to it – as I do in the second line but not in the first. Also “canan” – a word derived from the same stem – is important to mention here. For it represents only the object of romantic love in the Turkish language. And I, in my line pair, make both compete with one another.

As a flavoring particle, “işte” can stand for “here, now, see, look” and the likes. Accordingly, my two line poetic attempt would have to sound something like this:

why are you burning so, oh heart?

you see,

the beloved has not found a beloved in you

You don’t like the sound of the translated version, do you? Neither do I! Because the outcome is nothing like the impact the original language is capable of leaving behind. Thanks to the different spelling between “can” and “canan” but also due to the hinted meaning of “can” as the heart of one’s self as well as the beloved him-/her-self.

So, I conclude – without a conclusion – by providing us an inner monolog option to conceive the intended sentiment as true to its origination mode as possible for today but – unfortunately – in far more mundane terms: Why are you suffering this much? Your beloved apparently did not find love in you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Before I leave you with my thanks for your visit and good wishes for the rest of your Sunday and your new week, I would like to ask you a related question: Did you in your translation efforts run into similar situations where you not just knew but felt at the core of your being what the original statement intended for you to conceive as an emotion yet you couldn’t erect the cultural bridge for the sake of further understanding between different language users? On account of the deficiencies in one language or another or of a mere word?

I already look forward to any input you would be willing to give me with your comments and thank you in advance for your time.

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…wanting to scream as were such act enough to stop the pain…

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hyenas

coyotes

wolves

alligators

lizards

sharks

and other kings of vultures

are lulled to their eternal sleep

in their dens amid circles of doves

lambs cranes sloths deers and butterflies

compassion has reached the birth canal

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[Credit for the Images: Summer Anne Burton at buzzfeed.com]

* This poem – here still in its raw version – will re-appear in An Aegean Breeze of Peace, a pending book of poetry, being currently co-authored by Dr. Demetrios Trifiatis (Greece) and myself (Turkey) to be published by Inner Child Press, Ltd.

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…a new poem

APTOPIX Armenia Slaughter Centennial

If it seems to you like I have been preoccupied with the concept of death lately, you are not mistaken. Reasons that take you to this thought also find me, is my only defense. When one new sad coincidence hit me hard enough, I ended up in a brief direct speech with life’s notorious opposite. In my miniscule poem below. But first, allow me to share with you what to me came as a tragic irony:

May 7th is the date when my mother died – at the age of 48. May 7th was, however, the birthday of my mother’s beloved older brother. He died recently after achieving 84 years among the living. This past Thursday, May 7th has marked the 40th day after his death – according to some practicing Muslims, a time demanding a memorial event. I thus hope to justify my point of focus…

oh death

show me a way

not to love beyond sanity

teach me how to mourn in dignity

in honor of the nothing’s eternity

with grace

© hülya n. yılmaz, April 4, 2015

This poem was one of my three contributions for the May 2015 issue of The Year of the Poet, a monthly book series published by Inner Child Press, Ltd.

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When a larger-than-life beloved is no longer…

dayim-2.Sinop 2006

The photograph above is one of the many I had taken of my larger-than-life beloved maternal uncle with two of his grandchildren in 2006 in my former flat in Sinop, Turkey – my back-then-short-lived-residence he had enabled me to purchase and renovate from top to bottom. He was overjoyed to have my Turkish home in the same building as his own.

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A 2012 photograph I believe to have originated from his flat in Celle, Germany.

The Turkish poem below belongs to my beloved Dr. (Med.) Mahmut Oğuz Ergün, in which he reminisces some of his vivid memories from his early life in Sinop – his birth town in Turkey he loved with passion. While I am sharing his heartfelt words with you, I remain in the hope that you also had, have or will have the rare fortune of knowing the beauty of someone as special to you as you couldn’t possibly describe but would have to conceive at the core of your being. For me, that beloved legend was Mahmut dayım – my maternal uncle, with whose death early yesterday morning my life has stopped being a privilege of his making.

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His poem, “Sinop’um” with a brief insight:

I may eventually translate and re-post my uncle’s Turkish poem, “My Sinop” but refrain from doing so for the time being, because I know I won’t be able to do justice right now to his upbeat, mischievous lad-like poetic tone or his tireless enthusiasm for life mirrored in every line below. I lack all of the above. At least for today.

Sinop’um

Gene gemilerin ışıkları görülüyor limanda

Demek dehşetli bir fırtına var dışarda

Yeşilimsi, mavimsi, beyaz köpüklü dalgalar

Ürkütüyor gemileri açıklarda

Gene Sinop kollarını açmış limanda

Bağrına basmış, koruyor onları kucağında

Eskiden de böyleydi, çocukluğumu yaşadığım Sinopda

Bahçe içinde ahşap bir evimiz vardı adada

Sabah, motor sesleri ile uyanırdım yatağımda

Taka taka, taka taka, taka taka

Yolcu vapuru uğrardı iki kere haftada

Yolcular, karşılayanlar, satıcılar kaynaşırdı limanda

O zamanlar, demir atardı gemiler açıkta

Yolcular çıkardı iskeleye motorlarla

Taka taka, taka taka, taka taka

Bir çok balıkçı kulubeleri vardı kıyıda

Uskumru, hamsi palamut dolu tekneler

Neşeyle dönerlerdi kış akşamlarında

Taka taka, taka taka, taka taka

Gündüzleri balık tutardık adabaşında

Geceleri fenerle lüfer beklerdik kayıkta

Iyi kalpli bir balıkçı motoru

Bizi çekerek götürürdü limana

Taka taka, taka taka, taka taka

Yüzmeyi öğrenmiştim su yuta yuta

Beş yaşında denize girerdim çukurbağında

Eve geç gelince, korkudan girerdim yatağıma

Ama denizin tuzu kalırdı yanağımda

Güzel annem anlardı yüzümü yalayınca

Hınzır derdi, gene denize girmişsin çukurbağında

Cık yataktan, gir bakayım banyoya

Seni velet seni, öyle yalancıktan ağlama

Piri pak olmuş girerdim yatağıma

Ucuz kurtuldum diyerek dalarken uykuya

Gene ninni gibi gelen motor sesleri

Taka taka, taka taka, taka taka

© MOE- Celle -Almanya; 30 Nisan 2004

MOE is how dayım – Mahmut Oğuz Ergün, would sign his full name, sometimes with his medical title right before it.

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…singing of your love…

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barbwired

escape from your caress eludes me

scabs grow fresh wounds anew

i thus await the last fall of flesh

© hülya n yılmaz – March 10, 2014

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drought

come bottle your thirst put it aside

let us pass by a number of seasons

when you are ready lift the crack

the rain will obey no doubt

© hülya n yılmaz – March 16, 2014

Image for drought

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“I Love You From Afar” (capitalization, per Turkish)

When you are in love, words – at times – don’t suffice to express your feelings you can only register in your heart, would you agree? Then, you find yourself in a quest for a translation of what lies joyfully heavy inside your soul. That translation sometimes becomes a real one, having transcended from your essence to another. Or, the yearned for essence translates yours. I want to hope that you would like my translation of “Uzaktan Seviyorum Seni” by Cemal Süreya as my reflection on romantic love on this Sunday.  

The Turkish Original:

UZAKTAN SEVİYORUM SENİ

uzaktan seviyorum seni
kokunu alamadan,
boynuna sarılamadan
yüzüne dokunamadan
sadece seviyorum

öyle uzaktan seviyorum seni
elini tutmadan
yüreğine dokunmadan
gözlerinde dalıp dalıp gitmeden
şu üç günlük sevdalara inat
serserice değil adam gibi seviyorum

öyle uzaktan seviyorum seni
yanaklarına sızan iki damla yaşını silmeden
en çılgın kahkahalarına ortak olmadan
en sevdiğin şarkıyı beraber mırıldanmadan

öyle uzaktan seviyorum seni
kırmadan
dökmeden
parçalamadan
üzmeden
ağlatmadan uzaktan seviyorum

öyle uzaktan seviyorum seni;
sana söylemek istediğim her kelimeyi
dilimde parçalayarak seviyorum
damla damla dökülürken kelimelerim
masum beyaz bir kağıtta seviyorum…

(Own Unedited, Unrevised Translation – 12/13/2014)

I LOVE YOU FROM AFAR

I love you from afar

without being able to smell your scent

to embrace your nape

to feel your face

I merely love you

from afar, I just love you

not holding your hand

without touching your heart

nor dissolving in your eyes

in spite of today’s three-day love fads

not wildly but like a man, I love you

I just love you from afar

without wiping off the two tears running down your cheeks

not joining you in your heartiest laughs

nor crooning together with you your most favorite song

from afar, I just love you

without disappointing,

not pouring out anything

without destroying

not making sad,

nor causing a cry, I love you from afar

I just love you like that from afar;

by shredding in my tongue

every word I want to tell you

I love you

I love you on a white piece of paper

while my words fall down, drop by drop…

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…before and after a trying summer…

Aylar sonra Toruncanım kucağımda.Gizem sayesinde.10.2.2014 copy

[Photo: Courtesy of my daughter who gently placed my little big love on my lap without hurting me at all. After months of me having to avoid him, I was overjoyed to feel him this closely. But…if he weren’t asleep, I would not have had any chance to hold him on my lap like this,as he is quite an active little one…my thanks to his sleep fairies and to my daughter for thinking of this loving trick!]

 

As you all know, the late spring and the entire summer spanning to early fall  this year had presented a multitude of ailments to me. Gratitude for my renewed chances for life fills me now. I had written the poem below for my grandson. For a long while, I assumed I wasn’t going to be able to see him ever again. Today, out of joy – and on account of the contrary (!), I am sharing those verses with you. Please be forewarned:  though my little big love most of the time prefers to smile or laugh, he has learned to be quite generous with his tears since…

 

in his tiny seat with his precious frowning face

about to shed his newly-learned dropful of tears

but as soon as with his bottle she rushly nears

he pauses and awaits in awed anticipation her nestling embrace

 

where is the engine that runs those kissable fast filled-in arms and legs

what revs up the speed at which they move up down and sideways

those adorably small hands and feet on an invisible wing

one would think he is lifted up onto a sky-reaching swing

 

sadness in his sky-blue eyes begins as fast to disappear

his whole-body smile then glows in brightness to delight

joins the cutest giggle with a coo – to him ever so dear

mother and son thus embark as one on their blissful flight

 

© hülya n yılmaz – May 11, 2014

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when time stood still

For 8.31.2014 Blog Post.1326030

 

are you chlostrophobic

you did very well the last time

 

staples nausea feverishness anxious about that intruder

acutely aware now of that overly tight of a loneliest space

breathing hurts regardless

 

the better choice, mri not doable, too early to discard the stitches

surgical endoscopy under general anesthesia a must

setback

not major, considering

a setback nevertheless

 

 

when have i become this fortunate, dear Drs. C, A, D, P, Thu, S, Tho

to have you circle around me

not giving up

though perplexed from the onset

 

how do you manage

to turn nighttimes

into bearable patches

you beautiful sweet Ma, A, Me, S, T, D, B, L

 

and Alice, oh sweet Alice

your aged yet capable body catering to the troubled vessel of mine

those clear-sky-blue gorgeous eyes reading my face with caring intent

you are a unique woman – your soothing voice rises high

it’s the least i can be

amid you wonder-generating women of various ages

after all

when time stood still for me

wrapped in the silence of death

a precious offering from you all would not

 

love

 

hülya n yılmaz (August 25, 2014)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Toward a book project, “letter-poems to the beloved” – Week Four

…semester’s last week is now over…final essays and assignments, assessment and grading steps are still at my door, awaiting attention…therefore, I am leaving you with yet another poem of mine in lieu of my customary Sunday reflections and look forward in much anticipation to our next meeting. May this day and next week  bring you wonders you will experience with childlike curiosity-filled eyes.

 

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Photography Credit: Romeo Koitmae

 

no ether

 

does the record date back to the early eleventh century?

you would know, my love, we also shared our profession:

they would seize the patient in a prolonged procession

to the bloody altar slowly they would lower him down

in the agony of his existing pain he would partially drown

with a swift gash, his appendix, liver or one of the intestines

would reappear before everyone’s eyes in its carnage glory

 

can you see now, my beloved, how it had felt

not from your’s – the intact one…

but since my alive autopsied end?

 

© hülya n yılmaz – March 27, 2014

From the “letter-poems to the beloved” collection

 

 

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Toward a book project, “letter-poems to the beloved” – Week Three

…thank you for bearing with me the last two times and for the next two more times…while I only offer you my poems…I hope to return to my usual style of reflections, once my semester ends…just around the corner…As always before, I very much look forward to your next visit. May you have a laughter-filled Sunday and an identical new week.

 

68

Photography Credit: Serhat Demiroğlu

 

still playing

 

i was to be removed

not for lack of love or means

for fear of that dreadful disease

 

had since my share of ravened joys macaw-donned ills

sets of chains of shackled years eternalized my fasting

trite servings heaped on my plate with no shame

a honeyed blessing it was that you came

 

dabbed from my mind any fear of intimacy

flavored each morsel on my tray to utmost ecstasy

kneaded for me passionate love into life’s bleak reality

 

just when

my lungs closed up to solely heed your affectionate breath

the scarlet chamber learned to refuse a beat without yours…

 

the moment came that made you leave me

 

i was to be removed

am now orphaned by a cruel bliss

patiently await the end to grant me its fawning kiss

 

© hülya n yılmaz – March 26, 2014

From the “letter-poems to the beloved” collection

 

 

 

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