EGEMEN BERKOZ
(1941)A Plain Loneliness Would Have Been Enough
A plain checkered notebook would have been enough
to tell about the Samatya train station
while waiting for the evening to arrive
while waiting for shattered hopes
as the station in the newly fallen rain distributes its sorrow
even to those looking from a distance
to those going by the seaside road
and to the passengers, who are the very essence of sorrow,
something of a poet towards the evening,
the station master looks with understanding
smiling slightly
and doesn't even care
and suddenly the day is over
he doesn't care
the day goes by with trains, passengers, cargo
with tickets and passes the day goes by
and Egemen Berkoz goes homeHis heart heavy with sorrow
towards the evening he's seen along the way
houses with interiors in shambles
one day he has seen the tits of a woman laying out the laundry
another day he has seen a man in his undershirt and underpants eating
pilav early in the morning
one day he has seen children, dirty and cheeky
one day every day he has seen people tickets station clerks
and one day Egemen Berkdz goes homeHis stomach upset in the morning,
the green beans at lunch stringy,
he has played a game of chess
he has written two pieces of advertising copy
he has read a few pages from Pavese
he has looked at a few pictures of naked women
a few tree branches in the window
and a few fourteen or fifteen stories away
curtains have kept flying in the wind
then thinking of his cactuses
of Ben Shahn's and America's people
of Tobder's and Turkey's people
then with a small Yeni in his bag
then a small melon in his hand
then something stirring in his chest
Egemen Berkoz goes homeGetting off the train,
going out of the train station,
with a glance at the mackerel,
he climbs up the Mutesellim hill,
he climbs up the stairs of the Unal apartment
thinking all the way to the fifth floor, to the door of number sixteen
thinking even a plain checkered notebook would have been enougheven a plain checkered notebook.
August 1978
Translated by Tanses Gulsoy
AN EVENING SONG FOR THE PRIVATE WITH NO LEAVE
How come this town
and it's no small Anatolian town, either
how come this town puts me in an Oriental mood.I have the evening brought to Cinaralti
to transform me in its own magic
into sorrow. How is it, I sigh, how is it that
the evening comes upon the town all of a sudden
slipping around the street lights
all the way from Laleli. Right to my heart.
How is it possible.I sit and wait, the knife
hides its sharp edge
I hide. I am the secret eagle
of the mountain. The mountain. Secret.
I proclaim love to all women, my love.
To the prostitutes walking the Beyazlt area
and to those of Galata, silently going to bed.
I proclaim love.
Also to the wild tulip, breaking through the arid ground at some point.
My love.
I sit and wait. The knife.
Its sharp edge.How come this town
always sends me to another
from its big gloomy train station.
It makes me pass through bulletproof nights
to a motorboat hauling sand from a remote pier
with a letter from my village in my pocket
and a wild tulip
in the upper brace of my rifle.
It makes me pass through bulletproof nights
like a horse carriage running away from the sea.
The pregnant wife of the shepherd who goes into the military is
love, sometimes I cry even
in the evening.How come this town
and it's no small Anatolian town, either
how come this town puts me in an Oriental mood.
In a deserted tramway station.
Into the Dolmabahce Palace. Into a poem memorized
and forgotten.
When it's the kind of town that embroiders dreams
and in the evening, like a fly hidden in my coat collar
flies away.
Even in the evening...Translated by Tanses Gulsoy
Egemen Berköz was born in Zonguldak in 1941. He completed his elementary and middle school education in Zonguldak and high school in Bolu. He studied Italian language and literature at the Faculty of Letters at Ankara University (1959-1963). He worked as a copywriter. He is the editor of the art page of the newspaper Cumhuriyet. He published the journal Alan 67 (1965), and has translated poetry, novels and stories from Italian into Turkish. His first poem, Akşam/Evening, was published in 1959 in Yeditepe. His poetry has been published in journals such as Dost, Ataç and Yelken. A poet of the 1960’s generation, the enthusiasms of 1968 can be detected in his poetry. He is concerned with politics and the world. An urban dweller’s anxieties, pains, enthusiasms, loves and battles with the city are the subjects of his poetry. He has a balanced, clear and original style. His books of poetry: Çin Askeri Ah Devran/The Chinese Soldier, Oh Fortune (1966), Yalnızlıklar, Yalnızlıklar /Loneliness, Loneliness (1977), Bu Kitapta Sen Nerdesin/Where are you in this Book ?(1981), Unutma/Forgetting (Collected Poems, 2006).