English

Love

I come every morning to the beginning of this street
thinking that you will pass from here
I wait, wait, and wait...

when you are seen from far
my heart does not fit to its cage,
tulips bloom in me...
an inexplicable warmth embraces my body
I burn from top to toe...
I do not see who is on the street, I cannot see.
I do not see the trees
and when you approach
freezes my blood, freezes my mind
freezes my soul...
everything freezes in me

you just pass by,
it does not change anything whether I exist or not
it does not matter for you, for the world
or for the sun

when I return home
I carry a dream with me...
there is still a reason again
to overcome the dark and cold night
still a reason for me,
another reason to reach tomorrow morning,
I will run again,

I will run again the following morning
to the beginning of the same street

Translated by: Richard Mildstone


The Story

time was yellow at that day

like a leaf
and the woman gave birth to betrayal
pure of mother-of-pearl so shown
seven harvesting of grapes have been passed
with cries and shrieks
while seven periods had been overthrown

time was walking lame at that day

although it is said to be bloody red
the snake was born at once
waters have withdrawn slowly / lacking fell down
that day
northwestwinds have choked a flame
gracefully in an ambush
and the mill stopped, got down
stopped as if waiting for bunches
of fame,
for dawn
and stopped the mill
which did not sleep for seven days

Translated by: Richard Mildstone

Is it Sarajevo which burns or are we that Alija

I.

Where is this smoke rising from, Alija…

Where from comes this smell of fire?

Is it the relic soil of your country which caught fire

or the invisible flames of our burning cities…

Is it the ashes of Sarajevo being so thrown around?

I have seen that your orphan nations crime was just to believe,

it was said that you deserve the fierce of this cursed age.

An age called the West, a masked face, a treacherous ambush

a fierce called the West, Oh, its name and fame be ruined…

I have seen it is your belief which frightens this cursed age

If your country is destroyed, believe that we will be destroyed

if your country is destroyed, we will drag ourselves along the ground.

Pity us, pity our country which has lost its eternal sun,

pray for us that black clouds do not keep at us anymore!

If your country is destroyed, believe that we will be destroyed,

pray for us that our blood flows firstly for the sake of belief.

Is it the fog of our country which covers the skies, Alija…

Or is it the ashes of Sarajevo being thrown around?

II.

Where is this wail rising from, Alija…

Where from comes this cry, this voice of oppressed ones?

Is it the raped women of your country who are crying

or the echo of screams left from our dirty brains…

Is it the children cut into pieces and thrown around with the winds?

I have seen it is cruel that we laugh, that we play

I have seen it is difficult to eat, to drink, and to sleep.

The cage of our chests will be tight for all of us I know,

from now on we cannot look at pretty faces of children…

I have seen we cannot look at their innocent eyes

If those children cease to exist, believe that we will cease to exist

if those children cease to exist, we will fall into deep holes.

Pity us, pity our country which has lost its eternal soul,

pray for us that we get our beautiful light again.

If those children cease to exist, believe that we will cease to exist,

pray for us that we fight in sees, and we fight in the skies.

Is it our fake tears which get upon pilgrim winds, Alija…

Or the children died before playing games are thrown around?

Translated from Turkish by A. Edip Yazar

Original Turkish of this poem,  “Saraybosna mı yanan biz miyiz Aliya” has been awarded with the First Prize in the International Turkish Language Bosnia Poetry Contest in 1994

To the memory of the “Wise King”.

Award-winning poet, engineer, scientist, economist and translator Ahmet Yalçınkaya was born on December 3, 1963 in Giresun, Turkey. He has studied engineering, robotics, management, business, physics and divinity at various levels from associate to doctorate at Turkish, US and Swedish universities. He lives and works in various geographies, and continues his studies, researches and teachings in Sweden and Turkey.

 

His poems, essays, letters, interviews, and poetry translations have been published in local and international newspapers and journals such as Impact, Al-Ahram Weekly, Avaz, Harman, Das Licht, Mavera, Yosh Kuch, Kiragi, Endulus, Yedi Iklim, Hece Taslari, Poezia, Nadwah, Look Nazar, Revista Poemame, and Carmina Balcanica. He has received several awards including First Prize in TDV Turkiye Bosnia Poetry Competition (1994), and Nazar Look Tatar and Altai International Literatures Prize (2014). Yalçınkaya has taken part in the editorial boards of some literary journals. He edited and published the literary journal Mevsim (The Season) for a short time in 1995. Some of his poems have been translated into foreign languages such as English, Uzbek, Arabic, Tamil, Turkmen, Azerbaijani, Romanian, German, Italian, Albanian, Russian, Khyrgyz, Greek, Spanish and published abroad.

 

Daglarda Yer Yok  / There is not any place in the mountains (1997), Yetim Kalan Siirler / Orphan Poems (2001), Yuragimning ko`z yoshi / Tears of my Heart (Selected Poems, 2001, in Uzbek), Özlem Sularında / In the Waters of Longing (Selected Poems, 2004, 2005), and Gün Batarken Heybemde / At Sunset in My Saddlebag (2021)  are his published poetry collections. He prepared the poetry anthology Poems of the Night (2005, 2008) together with Richard Mildstone.

He has published many works also in technical and management fields