Mor kırmızı Purple Red

Mor kırmızı

Habire düşerdim, sanki göremediğim birileri
 
çelmelerdi ayaklarımı
 
Çok ağrırdı bacaklarım
 
hep çürük hep mor
 
Habire sol elimi keserdim bir de
 
Suyun altında yanardı kesik yeri
 
hep kan hep kırmızı
 
Habire yanılırdım en kötüsü
 
Fazla kıymet, emanet giysi gibi
 
dururdu güvendiklerimde
 
‘O ama çok farklı’ dediklerimde
 
Öğrendim zamanla, bütün farklar aynıdır
 
Ruhum gururundan morarırdı
 
ve yüzüm kızarırdı utancından
 
Çocukken battaniyeden çadır
 
yapardım ya hani sığınmaya
 
Şimdi çıplaktım insanların ortasında
 
Çıplak ayna, görür
 
ve nefret ederlerdi yansımalarından
 
O yüzden geriye kalan sadece
 
iki tayfı gökkuşağı kaderimin
 
hep mor hep kırmızı
 
Ne edeyim, söylemek zorundayım
 
Çok aldatıldım fazla bıçaklandım
 
hep mosmor hep kankırmızı​
 

Notes for MOR KIRMIZI:

Mosmor: mos intensifies the mor (purple) and doesn’t have a meaning on its own

Kankırmızı: kan also intensifies the kirmizi (red), but in this case kan means blood

Purple Red

I kept falling, as if people I couldn’t see
 
were tripping me up
 
My legs hurt a lot
 
always bruised always purple
 
And I kept cutting my left hand too
 
The gash burned under the water
 
always blood always red
 
Worst case I would always be mistaken
 
Too much esteem hung like borrowed
 
clothes on those I trusted
 
When they said ‘But she’s quite different’
 
I learned in time, all differences are alike
 
My soul was bruised by pride
 
and my face flushed with shame
 
When I was a kid I’d build a tent out of a blanket
 
to take refuge in, you know
 
Now I am naked in the middle of a crowd
 
A naked mirror they will gaze into
 
and hate their own reflection
 
And that’s why the only thing still left
 
is the spectacular twin rainbows of my fate
 
always purple always red
 
What can I do, I have no choice but to say it
 
So often I’ve been deceived, stabbed too many times
 
always deep purple always blood red
 

Purple Red

I would keep falling, as if some people I couldn’t see
 
were tripping me up
 
My legs would hurt a lot
 
always bruised always purple
 
And I would keep cutting my left hand too
 
The cut would burn under the water
 
always blood always red
 
Worse case I would keep being wrong
 
Too much esteem/value, like borrowed clothes
 
they would look on those I trusted
 
When they said ‘But she is really different’
 
I learned with time, all differences are similar
 
My soul would bruise from its pride
 
and my face would blush from its shame
 
As a kid I would build a tent with a blanket
 
you know to take refuge in
 
Now I was naked in the middle of people
 
The naked mirror, they would see
 
and hate its reflections
 
This is why what is left behind is only
 
two spectacular rainbows of my destiny
 
always purple always red
 
What can I do, I am forced to say it
 
I have been deceived a lot stabbed too many times
 
always deep purple always blood red
 

Original Poem by

Karin Karakaslı

Translated by

Canan Marasligil with Sarah Howe Language

Turkish

Country

Turkey