I hear the subtle sky call my name,
as my head stoops down in shame

My tears pour like rain
while I try to numb this
non-existent pain

I caught sight of things I wanted to be
yet standing still fills me with jealousy

Here comes ye ignorance
caused by unease and a halt of time

Even one's sentiment
ye words failed to define

And then a year later,
the ship sets sail
fleeing a year long sorrow,
into the tomorrow.

Each breath
calling out your name
a yearning for a last gaze,
every ear's thirst
for your voice,

a desire to quench it all
one of these days,
on you and me if there may
never dawn this tomorrow.

From the captain
to the cleaner himself,
they all yearn for it,
before they depart.

From the sky
to the ocean herself,
envy the troop's pining
for she who on the port
detract's the beauty
of this scene
for she who in their eyes
poses to be better than art.

- Diljeev

How heavy one's thoughts can be
When one's mind pulls them out to sea,
And floods of emotion spur the gale,
Cracking rudder and battering sail,
So fissures in the way one thinks
Widens as ship and psyche sinks,
And the cargo one is forced to bear
Drags them deeper into despair.
What was made clear by surface light
Shall fade in the depths of starless night.
Ever down into the cold and dark,
Crushing pressure shall assail one's heart,
And monsters from nightmares well known
Seek the intruder within their home;
As one tries in vain to hold one's breath,
While terrors consume 'till nothing's left,
And a hollow husk shall reach the bed
Who once was captain aboard one's head.

I'll tell you a story, listen to me
About a man who sailed on the high seas
This man talked me onto his great big boat
I hoped on the waves and crashes it floats
Oh Won't you come on this trip with me please?
The captain told me, I thought about it

He agreed to pay me if I did it.
You don't know how happy you have made me!
I can have a good crewmate over these seas!
Now, do you know how to use this sail boat?
There is a round object that seems to float.
Oh, If you know how to sail, tell me please.

Captain didn't like how i couldn't sail a boat,
Well then, i wonder how well you can float.
'cause I am the captain you want to please.
So you better learn how to sail in it.
Or else you will have to entertain me.
By walking the plank into the vast sea.

The captain said to me one day, not pleased,
Have you learned the ropes, how to use it
It would be a great surprise to give me
I thought you'd be more useful on the sea
But now I see you're useless on a boat
Perhaps you're useful for a root beer float?

He ordered me to make a rootbeer float
And no he did not ask with a nice, "please"
More like "I'm the Captain, I command it.
Now bring me my root beer, bring it to me!
I need something to distract from the sea."
That was the words  the captain of the boat.

Turns out I am not cut out for the sea
I should never have gotten on that boat
Instead, i should've gone on a parade float.
But the man got me on by asking please!
Frankly, I'm getting sick and tired of it.
Says the tiny crewmate, that would be me!

In the end, we sailed the seas, all of it.
Just me, and the captain I had to please
I'm done with this boat, I'll see if he floats

Life's journey is hard for everyone,
but always try, as best as you can,
that it'd be a white-sailed ship
that will be awaiting you when
your odyssey comes to an end.

Przemyslaw Musialowski 10/25/2020

Yahya Kemal Beyatli translations

Yahya Kemal Beyatli (1884-1958) was a Turkish poet, editor, columnist and historian, as well as a politician and diplomat. Born born Ahmet Âgâh, he wrote under the pen names Agâh Kemal, Esrar, Mehmet Agâh, and Süleyman Sadi. He served as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, Portugal and Pakistan.



Sessiz Gemi (“Silent Ship”)
by Yahya Kemal Beyatli
loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch

for the refugees

The time to weigh anchor has come;
a ship departing harbor slips quietly out into the unknown,
cruising noiselessly, its occupants already ghosts.
No flourished handkerchiefs acknowledge their departure;
the landlocked mourners stand nurturing their grief,
scanning the bleak horizon, their eyes blurring...
Poor souls! Desperate hearts! But this is hardly the last ship departing!
There is always more pain to unload in this sorrowful life!
The hesitations of lovers and their belovèds are futile,
for they cannot know where the vanished are bound.
Many hopes must be quenched by the distant waves,
since years must pass, and no one returns from this journey.



Full Moon
by Yahya Kemal Beyatli
loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch

You are so lovely
the full moon just might
delight
in your rising,
as curious
and bright,
to vanquish night.

But what can a mortal man do,
dear,
but hope?
I’ll ponder your mysteries
and (hmmmm) try to
cope.

We both know
you have every right to say no.



The Music of the Snow
by Yahya Kemal Beyatli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This melody of a night lasting longer than a thousand years!
This music of the snow supposed to last for thousand years!

Sorrowful as the prayers of a secluded monastery,
It rises from a choir of a hundred voices!

As the *****’s harmonies resound profoundly,
I share the sufferings of Slavic grief.

Then my mind drifts far from this city, this era,
To the old records of Tanburi Cemil Bey.

Now I’m suddenly overjoyed as once again I hear,
With the ears of my heart, the purest sounds of Istanbul!

Thoughts of the snow and darkness depart me;
I keep them at bay all night with my dreams!

Translator’s notes: “Slavic grief” because Beyatli wrote this poem while in Warsaw, serving as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, in 1927. Tanburi Cemil Bey was a Turkish composer. Keywords/Tags: Beyatli, Agah, Kemal, Esrar, Turkish, translation, Turkey, silent, ship, anchor, harbor, ghosts, grief, Istanbul, moon, music, snow