No Name

you are a must for me, you never know 
i keep your name in my mind as a nail 
your eyes getting more bigger as they get bigger 
you are a must for me, you never know 
i am heating inside of me with you 


Trees are getting ready for autumn 
this city is that old Istanbul? 
clouds are torn aparts in darkness 
street lights are immediately flashing 
over sidewalks, the smell of rain 
you are a must for me, you are absent 


to love is sometimes a rather disgraceful fear 
man gets tired all of a sudden in an evening 
captive, with living over straight razor 
sometime, breaks his hands, his passion 
takes out a few lives in his lifetime 
whichever door he knocks sometimes 
behind him, whistle of the naught silence of loneliness 


a poor gramphon plays in Fatih 
from ancient times a Cuma* plays 
standing in the corner, i would listen non-stop 
i would bring an untouched sky to you 
weeks are crumbled in my hands 
what shall i do, what shall i hold on, where shall i go 
you are a must for me, you are absent 


maybe you are blue dotted child in june 
Ah noone knows you, noone knows 
a ship leaks from your deserted eyes 
maybe you are taking an aeroplane in Yesilkoy 
wholly got wet, your hair shudder 
maybe you are blind, broken, in a hurry 
Bad winds are carrying away your hair 


whenever i think of living a life 
maybe hard in this wolves table.. 
without a shame, though without getting our hands dirty 
whenever i think of living a life 
i start with your name, with saying Silence 
your secret seas are moving inside of me 
No, it wont happen in other ways 
you are a must for me, you never know… 
 BY ATİLLA İLHAN

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed;
At first there blows a gentle breeze
And the leaves on the trees
Softly flutter or sway;
Out there, far away,
The bells of water carriers incessantly ring;
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed. 

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed;
Then suddenly birds fly by,
Flocks of birds, high up, in a hue and cry
While nets are drawn in the fishing grounds
And a woman’s feet begin to dabble in the water.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed. 

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
The Grand Bazaar is serene and cool,
A hubbub at the hub of the market,
Mosque yards are brimful of pigeons,
At the docks while hammers bang and clang
Spring winds bear the smell of sweat;
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed. 

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed;
Still giddy since bygone bacchanals,
A seaside mansion with dingy boathouses is fast asleep,
Amid the din and drone of southern winds, reposed,
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed. 

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
Now a dainty girl walks by on the sidewalk:
Cusswords, tunes and songs, malapert remarks;
Something falls on the ground out of her hand,
It’s a rose I guess.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed. 

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed;
A bird flutters round your skirt;
I know your brow is moist with sweat
And your lips are wet.
A silver moon rises beyond the pine trees:
I can sense it all in your heart’s throbbing.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes

Orhan Veli Kanik

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