ŞAKKUL-ARZ

A heart with a hole a thousand cubic feet deep

A mouth stretches out

It wants a handful of political air

You got too close to me

My flower

My roots are fire, my stems are poison

Rain, fire, my stems are poison

Your skin has traces with rainwater

You dreamed a lot with me, now come closer

Your myopic gaze is a flow of blood

Start from this water cistern

My fire, my poison, was entrusted to you

Break many idols with me, my flower

Critical Edition

A voice

A thousand cubic feet of weight filling the ground

Your mouth stretches out from the gas

It wants a ton of political freedom

The earth increasingly becomes mine and his

Mutual

Sharpened

In the air

Our swords

A fierce move, first a laurel branch

Détente

Get out of here - then

Sam missiles

I saw that his life became a trick

My mother and father were gnawed

Lime was added to my soup

My move is elegant

My strike life

My trickery

Escape and transformation poem

The earth is gradually mine

The foundation of my groomship is laid in Muharram

CAHİT ZARİFOĞLU

EPIGRAM

Love is revealed in its presence, in its absence.

Sovereignty is revealed in its presence, in its absence.

There is a freedom, as common as water and air.

It is revealed not in its presence, but in its absence.

ÖZDEMİR ASAF

THE WHITE MAN

The white man

was tiny when he first arrived

and all his bones ached from sitting

in his big boat

The white man

grew up when he was fed by the food offered by the Native Americans

and lay down on their land

instead of the Manitou who lived in peace among the clouds

the one he wanted us to worship

was a dead man who was tortured and crucified

The white man

erected a giant statue of a woman in the name of freedom

on the shore of the eastern sea

and every night

he imprisoned the stars under which we danced

as a flag

on a piece of cloth

The white man

symbolized justice, like freedom,

with a statue of a woman

but the poor woman holding the scales

could not see who raped her

because her eyes were blindfolded...

SUNAY AKIN

WALL

On the whitewashed wall

I wrote your name with charcoal

I drew a picture of a ship on it

I lined up your fish

The ship took you away

I spat on its blue

I erased and ruined its seas

Oktay Rıfat

FREEDOM

Be yourself, my child,

Don't take freedom so lightly.

Freedom is neither half a loaf of bread nor half a melody.

It's a bright blue cloud in the sky,

Difficult to reach but not impossible...

(...)

And those poets,

And those papers passed from hand to hand,

And those songs,

And those who died,

And those who are imprisoned,

For freedom,

They too are searching for freedom,

The freedom of a morning..."

NAZIM HİKMET RAN