Sabır tanrısının tapinağinda konaklama In the temple of a patient god

Sabır tanrısının tapinağinda konaklama

I.
 
Yağmurlu dağların arasından gurbetini seçtin.
 
Son gece beklediğin yer
Sabır tanrısının eviydi.
İnsanı merhametle donatmanın evi.
Tapınaklara gerek yok dedim.
Burası sadece bir yer.
İnsanın ruhu tapınak kılınmalı.
Ve yağmur, yersizliğin nehri.
Tanrıdan ve çocukluktan hatırlanan
 
II.
 
Yağmurlu dağların arasından gurbetini seçtin.
 
Yanılmanın güzelliği 
Ve huzuru acının.
Her şey seni bir boşluğa uladı.
Ve sen, sarı sabır çiçeklerine bakıp ağladın.
Onun koynunda yokmuş gibi uyudun.
Bir dağa gidilecek, gurbet seçilecek.
Ve insan istenecek tanrıdan.
 
Tekrar dinlemeli o müziği.
Sevişmenin tamamlanmadığı o yer.
 

In the temple of a patient god

I.
 
You chose exile in rain-drenched mountains.
 
You stayed in the house of a patient god
and were adorned with grace.
 
What do we need with temples? I said –
this is just a place. 
 
Make the human soul the sacred space;
rain, the rootless river, remembered
from god and childhood.
 
II.
 
You chose exile in rain-swept mountains.
 
It all leads to the void – 
the beauty of delusion and 
the peace of pain. 
 
As for you, you observed 
the serenity of primroses, and wept. 
Drifted off in his arms, as if you didn't exist.
 
A journey shall be made to the mountains.
We can ask god to send us
a human: a sign.
 
Let's listen to that music again.
Return to the place where we're still making love.
 

Staying in the sanctuary/Temple of the god of patience

I.
 
You chose your exile among the rainy mountains.
 
The place where you waited on the last night
Was the home of the god of patience.
The house that equips people with empathy.
There is no need for sanctuaries/temples I said. 
This is just a place. 
The soul of a person must be made a temple. 
And rain, the river of displacement.
Remembered through god and childhood.
 
II.
 
You chose your exile among the rainy mountains.
 
The beauty of misapprehension
And the serenity of pain. 
Everything has linked you to a void.
And you, you looked at the pale patience flowers and wept.
You fell asleep in his arms as if he wasn’t there.
A journey to the mountain, a choice of exile shall be done. 
And a human shall be wanted from god. 
 
That music has to be listened to again. 
That place where making love is incomplete/unfinished.
 

Original Poem by

Bejan Matur

Translated by

Canan Marasligil with Jen Hadfield Language

Turkish

Country

Turkey