Latest items:

Poetry

	Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
	PROFILE About me Poetry (14) Prose (1) Photography (6) Graphics (21)

latest best rating most commented

Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI, 8 april 2012

Martial Dances

We live in strange times, my brother
men make money
with war dances
and occupation...
Do you not see the bombardments
and the pillaging?
Under the boot
you are worn out,
these days
the sweat of your brow
no longer serves you!
Tanks come from distant lands
passing down your streets
demanding to know
why you were born!
And you can say nothing.
Soon, if this continues,
it will be the course of progress
to be denied learning.
One speaks of the rights of man
here and there.
Do not believe those rumors!
You see that nothing is in place now!
We live in strange times my brother,
arms dealing,
construction
governing the land.
Is it so difficult to understand?
They sell the merchandise of war!
Come listen to my counsel.
Don't marry, it is unsupportable
to suffer the massacre of your children.
The success of your affairs depends
on producing fictitious enemies
to menace...
In this manner
they take over small countries
one after the other
under the pretext of saving them.
While you fight amongst yourselves
others consume your underground resources.
What should I tell you;
do these times plant sorrow
in your hearts?
Be a little understanding!
Increase the number of fratricidal wars,
divide your people further
to make the lives of the invaders easier.
Do not forget that to destroy love
requires only this:
Live in a society without love
and don't educate anyone...
Live in the clarity of obscurity,
depend only on yourself!
The sun rises and sets on time...
the throats of cocks are cut
that sing before the hour!
We live in strange times my brother,
men make money with war dances
and occupation...
Do you not see the bombardments
and the pillaging?

By Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Paris, 17.03.2003
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2003

number of comments: 0 | rating: 4 | detail

Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI, 27 june 2012

My Teacher

Superannuated children
At the tether of insensitivity,
These are your work -
Born of selfishness,
Each generation slips away
Further and further.

From every sideways glance
Aimed at revolt
Fleas give birth to dragons
And they do it from the underside
Of workbenches only partially covered with tablecloths.
The month of September in their eyes
Piles their up their hatreds day in and day out,
An anteroom for opportunists
A shelter annihilating love
And -
A prop
For confidence,
Whose opposite face falls into a ravine.

My teacher,
Before the wellspring
of your values dries up...
Draw near, and you'll see the capillary vessles
Of youth.
Draw near,
Before the last vestiges of your sensibilities
Are snuffed out, scattered by the winds of Time.

Oh, I know,
No matter what you plea,
Your inner Tribunal doesn't leave you free
So long as tomorrow drops suffering into your lap.
Events fall out on your right,
Secrets shake you up on your left
The source of worrying
Is in every tomorrow
Looming inside you...
Your accomplishments, my dear teacher,
Only see you
They can't see themselves!...

Üzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Paris, 30.04.2001
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Richard Vallance

number of comments: 0 | rating: 3 | detail

Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI, 8 april 2012

İSTANBUL

The dock birds
pull me to the sea
like I am pulled to suffering,
to Istanbul, that wrings sorrows
that fall on me.
Solitude without you.

In this obscure city,
my blood clotting,
I am snowed under with dreams.
The wide streets accentuate your absence.
Istanbul takes me from city to city.

This great place is well-versed
in my suffering,
the dock birds pull me
to their tired nights
and Istanbul searches
top to bottom.
Solitude without you.

by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Aksaray, Istanbul, 13.03.1975
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002

ISTANBUL

Les oiseaux de quai
Me traînent vers les mers
Comme si je courais vers les souffrances
Istanbul se tord de douleurs
Au fur et à mesure que tombent sur moi
Les solitudes sans toi...

Dans cette ville obscure
Avec mon sang coagulé
Je déborde mes rêves
Les rues vides accentuent ton absence
Istanbul t'emmène de ville en ville...

Cette ville si grande se verse dans mes souffrances
Les oiseaux de quai me traînent
A leurs nuits fatiguées
Et là-bas Istanbul fouille de fond en comble
La solitude sans toi.

Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Aksaray, Istanbul, le 13.03.1975
Traduit par : Yakup YURT

Pour écouter chanson d'Istanbul :
To listen to song Istanbul :
Um in Istanbul Lied hören :
Para escuchar la canción de Estambul :
İstanbul şarkısını dinlemek için :

http://www.myspace.com/tableraz/videos/istanbul/21269277

number of comments: 0 | rating: 5 | detail

Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI, 8 april 2012

Those who dance to the rhythm of their own music

Those who nourish themselves on meats, dairy products and desserts
Cannot estimate you at your fair value.

Even if stone cracked, you cannot make them open
The windows of their farm …
People like you are not included in their center of interest
You do not exist …
Hereafter you must know
That they do not have time to bless you!

Their eyes are always fixed from above you
While they bow
With smiles above their double chins
Before the sovereign...the sultan.
Do you think for an instant that they acknowledge you?

If you ask my opinion on this subject
It is because the ends of their twine
Are in the hands of other people.
Don't take exception to the fact
That they are taken for kings!

Do not wait for them
In the wrong places
Vainly hoping
They will consider you a man …

Even if you write hundreds of letters
To these men of the closed doors
Intending to see or speak to them
You will not receive a single response …
Be wary and attentive;
Above everything
Allow them their haughty airs.
By thinking themselves important
They will look at you scornfully!

They well like fondling
Each others' backs …
It is no longer to the point
To listen to their dialogues "with admiration"
To extol their writings "enthusiastically"
To reward their facts "by clapping" …

Do not waste your time
Or put your attention here …
Think of other things.

by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Paris, 20.06.2007
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick

number of comments: 0 | rating: 2 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Other poems: What Species of Humanity Are You?, Go Now...Come Back Later, THE WORLD IN A BOTTLE *, THE CITY WHICH IS INSIDE YOU, MOLESTATION, What Is Written in the Dark by War, The Marketplace Still Attaches Your Fool To Money, FRIEND, YOU'RE NOT THE GUILTY ONE, My Teacher, Where the Lilies Grow, Tomorrow the Sun Is Born for Us, Martial Dances, Those who dance to the rhythm of their own music, İSTANBUL,

Latest items:

Poetry

Martial Dances

My Teacher

İSTANBUL

Those who dance to the rhythm of their own music

Latest comments:

contact with us