Nazim Hikmet

Am inceput postul asta de vreo patru ori, incercand sa gasesc o introducere, nici una jumatate de buna precum biografia pe care si-a scris-o singur – o gasiti mai jos.

M-am tot gandit ce versuri sa aleg, ce cuvinte sa va arat cat sa-l intelegeti si savurati. Si-mi pare la fel de greu precum a taia un o felie de antreu dintr-un meniu complet, aduce in fata unui oaspete si spune ca asta-i aroma. Nazim Hikmet are genul ala de poezie pe care nu-ti vine sa o comentezi, nu ca n-ai putea, ca doar in cap iti curg toate cartile prafuite de istoria criticii literare, insa ti-e drag, ti-e atat de drag incat o simti in vene si-n artere si-n cele mai subtiri capilare, si mai rau de-atat – o traiesti.

I made a journey
under the moon
in the light of the sun and rain
with the four seasons and all time,
with insects, grass, and stars,
and with the most honest people on earth –
I mean affectionate like violins
pitiless and brave
like children who can’t talk yet,
ready to die as easily as birds
or live a thousands years…

As vrea ca poezia lui sa va convinga singura asa ca nu o sa va spun ca a castigat premiul pacii, ca a petrecut 30 ani in inchisoare si alti multi departe de tara si familie. Nu o sa va mai spun nimic decat sa-i cumparati cartea.

I was born in 1902
I never once went back to my birthplace
I don’t like to turn back
at three I served as a pasha’s grandson in Aleppo
at nineteen as a student at Moscow Communist University
at forty-nine I was back in Moscow as the Tcheka Party’s guest
and I’ve been a poet since I was fourteen
some people know all about plants some about fish
I know separation
some people know the names of the stars by heart
I recite absences
I’ve slept in prisons and in grand hotels
I’ve known hunger even a hunger strike and there’s almost no food
I haven’t tasted
at thirty they wanted to hang me
at forty-eight to give me the Peace Prize
which they did
at thirty-six I covered four square meters of concrete in half a year
at fifty-nine I flew from Prague to Havana in eighteen hours
I never saw Lenin I stood watch at his coffin in ’24
in ’61 the tomb I visit is his books


they tried to tear me away from my party
it didn’t work
nor was I crushed under the falling idols
in ’51 I sailed with a young friend into the teeth of death
in ’52 I spent four months flat on my back with a broken heart
waiting to die
I was jealous of the women I loved
I didn’t envy Charlie Chaplin one bit
I deceived my women
I never talked my friends’ backs
I drank but not every day
I earned my bread money honestly what happiness
out of embarrassment for others I lied
I lied so as not to hurt someone else
but I also lied for no reason at all
I’ve ridden in trains planes and cars
most people don’t get the chance
I went to opera
most people haven’t even heard of the opera
and since ’21 I haven’t gone to the places most people visit
mosques churches temples synagogues sorcerers
but I’ve had my coffee grounds read
my writings are published in thirty or forty languages
in my Turkey in my Turkish they’re banned
cancer hasn’t caught up with me yet
and nothing says it will
I’ll never be a prime minister or anything like that
and I wouldn’t want such a life
nor did I go to war
or burrow in bomb shelters in the bottom of the night
and I never had to take to the road under diving planes
but I fell in love at almost sixty
in short comrades
even if today in Berlin I’m croaking of grief
I can say I’ve lived like a human being
and who knows
how much longer I’ll live
what else will happen to me

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