Galata Galata

Galata

Bir kuleye sevdalıyım
Gece vakti ekseninde 
mıknatıslı gibi dönenen 
fosforlu beyaz martılardanım
 
Bir kadraja sığdık siyah-beyaz 
Uzatmalı sonbahardı serin ve ışıklı 
Sevdalım heybetliydi
taş ve kökten uzun bir hikâye, sonu hep 
bende bitti
 
Alışkanlık olmuştu vapurda başımı kaldırıp 
onu arıyordum, oradaysa daha
sıramı savıyordum
 
Zordu tabii ne sandınız 
bu şehirde öğütülmeden tek parça kalabilmek
her şey yıkılırken
zamansızca ayakta kalan bir oydu
Ve ona baktıkça sorardım kendime, sahi 
benim kalbim niye hep böyle toydu
ki biz buna kısaca enayilik diyorduk 
aramızda ve gözümüzden yaş gelene kadar 
gülüyorduk
 
Rüzgârın kulesi derdim ona
En tepede insan, bulutlara komşu 
İstanbul fır dönerdi etrafında dolandıkça 
Yüzyıllarca öncenin taşları kayardı 
bugünün yağmurunda
“Gökyüzünü Galata’ya indirip 
bir ömür yaşayalım mı?”
diye bir duvar yazısı
bana sorsun isterdim yazan her kimse 
önünden her geçtiğimde
 
Kollarımı açıp sarıldım
Taştan sevgili ısındı avuçlarımd
 

Galata

I am in love with a tower
I am one of the fluorescent white seagulls
spinning like magnets
round its axis by night
 
We squeezed into a black and white shot
It was an extended autumn, cool and light
My beloved was majestic
A story older than stone and roots, at the end
of the last chapter I was always there
 
It became a habit, I would lift up my head on the ferry
to look for the tower, check it was still there
I would pay homage
 
Of course it was a challenge to stay in one piece
in this city, not to be pounded, what did you expect?
Out of its time, the tower was the only thing left standing
when everything else came crashing down
And as I gazed at it, I asked myself
why my heart was always so naïve
a fool, to be blunt, as we’d call it between ourselves
till our eyes swam with tears
and we were laughing
 
I would call it the tower of the wind
The person at the summit, neighbour to the clouds
Istanbul would spin round it in devoted circles
The stones of past centuries would slip
with today’s rain
‘Shall we lower the sky to Galata
and live forever?’
said a snatch of graffiti
and I wanted its author to ask me
every time I walked past
 
I opened my arms to embrace it
My stone beloved grew warm between my palms
 

Galata

I love a tower
At night on its axis
spinning/rotating like magnets
I am one of the white phosphorescent seagulls
 
We squeezed into a frame black and white
It was an extended autumn cool and light
My beloved was majestic 
A story older than stone and roots, its ending
always finished with me
 
It had become a habit I would lift my head in the ferry
I would look for it, if it was still there
I would do my duty
 
Of course it was difficult what did you think
to stay in one piece in this city without being grinded
when everything was being demolished/falling apart
it was the only one standing timelessly
And as I looked at it I would ask myself, true
why was my heart always so naïve/inexperienced
which we were simply referring to being a fool/dupe
among ourselves then until tears would come to our eyes
we were laughing
 
I would call it the tower of the wind
The person at the very top, neighbour to the clouds
Istanbul would run in circles (to please it) as it was wandering around
The stones of the past hundreds of years would slide
with today’s rain
 
“Shall we lower the sky to Galata
and live eternally/forever?”
said a wall writing
whoever wrote it I wanted them to ask me
every time I walked past
 
I opened my arms and embraced it 
The stone lover warmed up inside my palm
 

Original Poem by

Karin Karakaslı

Translated by

Canan Marasligil with Sarah Howe Language

Turkish

Country

Turkey