Poetry Planetariat

 
 
Poetry Planetariat
Poetry Planetariat
 Issue3,2,winter
Issue      Fall 2019
                 2019-2020      Istanbul
                                  Istanbul//Medellin
                                            Medellin




 Poets of of
    Poets thetheWorld  UniteAgainst
                 World Unite Against   Injustice
                                    Injustice
Poetry Planetariat
Copyright 2020 World Poetry Movement
Publisher: World Poetry Movement
www.wpm2011.org
wpm.revista@gmail.com

Editor: Ataol Behramoğlu
ataol@wpm2011.org
Associate Editor: Pelin Batu
pelin@wpm2011.org

Editorial Board: Mohammed Al-Nabhan (Kuwait), Ayo Ayoola-Amalae (Nigeria), Francis Combes (France), Jack Hirschman (USA),
Jidi Majia (China), Fernando Rendón (Colombia), Rati Saxena (India), Keshab Sigdel (Nepal)

Design and layout by Devrim Erbil and Gülizar Ç. Çetinkaya designmaya00@gmail.com

Adress: Tekin Publishing House Ankara Cad.Konak Han, No:15 Cağaloğlu-İstanbul/Turkey
Tel:+(0212)527 69 69 Faks:+(0212)511 11 12
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e-mail:editor@tekinyayinevi.com.tr
ISSN XXXXX
Poetry Planetariat is published four times a year in Istanbul by the World Poetry Movement in cooperation with

Ataol Behramoğlu-Pelin Batu and Tekin Publishing House
Poetry Planetariat
CONTENTS


POETRY: FIRST TO BE RESCUED FROM THE FIRE

   SUMMATION OF 2019/ JACK HIRSCHMAN




                       POETRY

             Poems by the indigenous poets




          WHAT POETRY MEANS TO ME

      Ayo Ayoola-Amale/ what poetry means to me

  Rati Saxena/ Poetry is the language, which leads to Life




                   IN MEMORIAM

             Orhan Veli Kanık(1914-1950)

               Poems of Orhan Veli Kanık




                    MANIFESTOS

                   Extracts from Garip
Poetry Planetariat
POETRY: FIRST TO BE RESCUED FROM THE FIRE



The world is in flames, in reality and metaphorically.
One might venture to ask the import and meaning of poetry in such a world.
The answer to this question is that the first value we need to rescue in case of fire is poetry,
metaphorically and otherwise.
We cannot fathom to undermine other values created by mankind.
But we believe that the most influential value that carries mankind from the past to the future
without being enslaved by the shackles of technology is poetry.
In this issue of our magazine, we have a selection of poems written by 10 indigenous poets. If
these poems exhibit the life force of flowers springing forth from amongst stones, they are a
proof of the assurance that mankind will survive.
In this issue you will find the articles of RatiSaxena and Ayo Ayoola-Amale, both members of
World Poetry Movement’s Coordination Committee, under the new section we have opened
called: “What poetry means to me.”
We have dedicated our commemoration and manifesto sections to the great Turkish poet
OrhanVeliKanık on his 70th death anniversary. Along with two poems of his and assessment
of his work, you will find a section of the Garip manifesto, a movement he helped found.




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Poetry Planetariat
SUMMATION OF 2019
                                                                                      Jack Hirschman

Essentially the World Poetry Movement (WPM, founded in Medellin, Colombia in 2011)
believes that a poem is the most powerful human weapon against the violence and hatred
of war, and the most directly human expression of the heart’s desire for peace through the
kindness that is manifested as Love at both the personal and collective levels.
To that end, and with rise in violence, wars and other manifestations of one or another form of
fascism, and the preponderance of corporative life on the human soul, the WPM in February
2019 organized 1000 poetry readings in 151 countries for A World Without Walls, countering
the bestial push on the part of countries like the USA to cage human beings at borders and
to separate children from their parents.
Against such fascistic exclusions, in June of last year the WPM organized 245 worldwide poetic
actions calling for A World Without Wars in 35 countries; and in November and December of
2019, there were 790 readings in 115 countries on five continents under the title that Poetry
is the Path to Peace.
In addition a campaign to collect signatures in support of an Open Letter to Presidents the
world over, with more than 100 signatures from 171 in the name of Peace, was co-ordinated
by the WPM.
In this regard, a “World Peace Poetry” meeting was held in China in November 2019 as
advocated by the WPM.
Throughout the year many poetry readings were held throughout the world under the slogan,
“Poetry is the Way to Peace.” Among the numerous locations was Bulawayo, Zimbabwe,
Geneva, Windhoek, Namibia, Sydney, Grahamstown, İstanbul and Bishkek. In this way, the
message of poets calling for peace was once more reiterated.
Another motto of the WPM is “World Without Walls.” A recitation of poetry was organized
for the second time in Haikou, China where poets came together under the slogan of world
without borders. In the same month of February 2019, 14 poets wrote a poem together and
read it live before the asylum seeker center in Brussels. The poetry reading was turned into a
booklet with a poem in 14 languages. Another such event was held in the March of 2019 in
Vienna where 26 poets, performers and writers came together for four days underlining this
message. A reading under the same title of “World without Walls” was held in Slovenia where
poets read their works and were accompanied by musicians. Nepalese poets also collaborated
and did a reading under the very title in February, 2019. In Turkey, the WPM launched
a solidarity campaign in support of the imprisoned poet İlhan Sami Çomak to underline
the message that all writers and poets in prison should be freed. Readings and events were
repeated in April 2019 in Skopje were poems were recited by poets. Thus, the campaign that
calls for the bringing down of walls started in Medellin has echoed in many countries through
numerous readings and publications. “The World without Borders” slogan has been sung
in many places such as Georgia, Philippines, Wales, South Africa, India, St. Martin, Trieste,

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Poetry Planetariat
Greece, Sweden, Algeria, Croatia, Lithuania and Israel throughout 2019 and will keep being
repeated in the years to come.
       2019 was also the 100th year of the great poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti. As the WPM,
we celebrated his influential verse and commemorated his poetry in the Poetry Planetariat.
  With 2020, our 20/20 vision with regard to an end to all wars is continuing with the urgency
of the most powerful poems of our time.




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Poetry Planetariat
POETRY
Selection_10_Indigenous_Poets




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Poetry Planetariat
Haji Gora Haji


WONDERS

Wonders occurred
The octopus was trapped in the forest
Which are you explaining to us

Those without wings flew
The wood broke the axe
Whitebait swallowed the cat

I tell you so you know
Should not shock you
Chicks ate the kite

It is a secret inside a secret
The chameleon passed the car
When you consider this

There is another word like this one
Through the eye of a needle
The ant which is tiny

By God’s kindness
the monkey was fished at the coast
you our uleas?

those which fly sat down
what is it if not death?
what is there to say?

many things of today
it is the wonder of the Merciful
it is astonishing if you measure it

It is neither cunning nor judgment
in speed it was behind
in the end you will not finish it

which I also speak
the elephant passed upright
got stuck.




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Poetry Planetariat
Haji Gora Haji was born in Zanzibar, an island near Tanzania, on March 10, 1933. He is a Poet, storyteller, novelist,
playwright, songwriter, troubadour and epic narrator, active creator for 40 years. He writes his work in Ki-Tumbatu, dialect
of his native island, as well as in Ki-Unguja, the Swahili of Zanzibar, from which the current Swahili originated. Born into
a large family, he spent much of his childhood as a fisherman, sailor and as a distributor of spices in the ports. He published
the Kimbunga Anthology (The Hurricane), in 1994. He actively participates in literary programs on radio in Tanzania. He
is an honorary member of various literary and cultural groups in his country. His poems have been translated into English,
French, Dutch and Spanish. He participated in the Rotterdam International Poetry Festival in 1999.




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Duke Redbird


I AM THE REDMAN


I am the Redman
Son of the forest, mountain and lake
What use have I of the asphalt
What use have I of the brick and concrete
What use have I of the automobile
Think you these gifts divine
That I should be humbly grateful…

I am the Redman
Son of the tree, hill and stream
What use have I of china and crystal
What use have I of diamonds and gold
What I use have I of money
Think you these from heaven sent
That I should be eager to accept.

I am the Redman
Son of the earth, water and sky
What use have I of silk and velvet
What use have I of nylon and plastic
What use have I of your religion
Think you these be holy and sacred
That I should kneel in awe.
I am the Redman
I look at you White Brother
And I ask you
Save not me from sin and evil
Save yourself…




                                              Photo: www.peacephoto.com

Duke Redbird was born in Southampton, Ontario, Canada, in 1939. He is a poet, painter, esayist, tv screenplay and film
director. Some of his books: I am Canadian, 1978; Loveshine and Red Wine, 1981 and Red on White, 1981 and We are
Metis: A Metis view of the development of a native Canadian people, 1980. He belongs to the Saugeen Nation. In the
sixties and seventies he was in the forefront of Native political organizations.



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Gail Tremblay


INDIAN SINGING
IN 20TH CENTURY AMERICA

We wake; we wake the day,
the light rising in us like sun –
our breath a prayer brushing
against the feathers in our hands.
We stumble out into streets;
patterns of wires invented by strangers
are strung between eye and sky,
and we dance in two worlds,
inevitable as seasons in one,
exotic curiosities in the other
which rushes headlong down highways,
watches us from car windows, explains
us to its children in words
that no one could ever make
sense of. The images obscures
the vision, and we wonder
whether anyone will ever hear
our own names for the things
we do. Light dances in the body,
surrounds all living things-
even the stones sing
although their songs are infinitely

lower than the ones we learn
from trees. No human voice lasts
lomf enough to make such music sound.
Earth breath eddies between factories
and office buildings, caresses the surface
of our skin; we go to jobs, the boss
always watching the clock to see
that we’re on time. He tries to shut
out magic and hopes we’ll make
mistakes or dissapear. We work
fast and steady and remember
each breath alters the composition
of the air. Change moves relentless,
the pattern unfolding despite their planning-
we’re always there –singing round dance
songs, remembering what supports
our life –impossible to ignore.




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Foto: The Evergreen State College

Gail Tremblay was born in Buffalo, New York, USA, in 1945. She belongs to the Mi’kmaq-Onondaga Nation. She is a
poet, playwright, teacher and artist. She has received many awards for her poetry. She is the autor of the following books of
poetry: Night Gives Women the Word, 1979; Close to Home, 1981, and Indian Singing in 20th Century America, 1990.
“Blending modern and traditional styles in both her writing and her artwork, Tremblay juxtaposes the modern Native
American experience with tradition, placing emphasis on the encounters between past and present. Her poetry explores
the isolation that accompanies cultural misunderstanding and centuries of oppression.”




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Joséphine Bacon


My wealth is called
salmon
my house is called
caribou
my fire is called
black spine
my canoe is called
plump
my suit is called
lichen
my hairpin is called
eagle
my song is called
drum
i, i am called
human




Joséphin Bacon was born in Pessamit, Innu Nation, Canada, in 1947. He is a poet, translator, filmmaker, composer and
singer. He writes his poetry in Innu language and in French. He has published the books of poems: Aimititau! Speak to us
!, correspondence with José Acquelin, 2008; Walking sticks with Message / Tshissinuatshitakana, inuit / French bilingual
edition, 2009, A Tea in the Tundra, 2013 and We Are All Wild, 2014. He directed the documentary film Mishtikuashisht-
The Little European Grand: Johan Beetz (1996) and mounted in the Great Library from Québec the Matshinanu –
Nomades exhibition.
His poetry is a dialogue with the four cardinal points of his home landscape, his identity, the tundra of the innu, the
northern lights, the stars and the song of the ancestors, the company of the caribou, the salmon, the wolf, the crow , the
eagle, the forest, the snow, which they embody with Papakassik, the master of land animals, an experience of resistance
against colonization and exploitation of natural resources in their territory. As Nathalie Landreville says, “Like salmon
upriver to return from where it came from, Joséphine Bacon has spent almost his entire life in search of the traces of the
past.”




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Joy Harjo


THIS IS MY HEART


This is my heart. It is a good heart.
Weaves a membrane of mist and fire.
When we speak love in the flower world
My heart is close enough to sing to you
in a language too clumsy,
for human words.

This is my head. It is a good head.
Whirrs inside with a swarm of worries.
What is the source of this mystery?
Why can’t I see it right here, right now
as real as these hands hammering
the world together?

This is my soul. It is a good soul.
It tells me, “Come here forgetful one.”
And we sit together
We cook a little something to eat,
then a sip of something sweet,
for memory, for memory.

This is my song. It is a good song.
It walked forever the border of fire and water
climbed ribs of desire to sing to you.
Its new wings quiver with vulnerability.

Come lie next to me.
Put your head here.
Myheartiscloseenough to sing.




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Joy Harjo, of the Mvskoke Nation, was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Harjo has published eight books of poetry. Her most
recent collection of poetry Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings made the short list for the Griffin International Prize and
was named the American Library Association’s Notable Book of the Year. Her awards include the prestigious Ruth Lily
Prize from the Poetry Foundation for lifetime achievement; the Wallace Stevens Award from the Academy of American
Poets, a Guggenheim Fellowship; and the New Mexico Governor’s Award for Excellence in the Arts, among others. Her
memoir Crazy Brave won several awards, including the PEN USA Literary Award for Creative Non-Fiction.

 She has
been performing music with her poetry since the early 1990’s and is the recipient of a Native American Music Award
(NAMMY) for Best Female Artist of the Year. Harjo is at work on a musical, We Were There When Jazz Was Invented,
a show that will rewrite the origin story of blues and jazz to include the musical contributions of southeastern Native
peoples. She is a board member of the Native Arts and Cultures Foundations, and is a founder of the For Girls Becoming
arts mentorship program for young women of her tribal nation.




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Apirana Taylor



THE WOMB


Your fires burnt my forests
leaving only the charred bones
oftotararimu and kahikatea.

Your ploughs like the fingernails
of a woman scarred my face.
It seems I became a domestic giant.

But in death
you settlers and farmers
return to me
and I suck on your bodies
as if they are lollipops.

I am the land
the womb of life and death.
Ruamoko the unborn God
rumbles within me
and the fires of Ruapehu still live.




                                                         Foto: El autor

Apirana Taylor(Born in 1955), of TeWhānau-ā-Apanui, NgātiPorou and NgātiRuanui descent, has published six
collections of poetry, four short story collections, two novels, and three plays. He has also been included in multiple
anthologies and has published prolifically in other mediums, including sound and video recordings. He writes for children
and the theatre, and is involved in acting and teaching drama. Taylor’s first collection of poetry, Eyes of the Ruru, established
his powerful voice among Māori writers. Published in May 2017 by Anahera Press, Taylor’s latest publication is his
novel Five Strings.




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Graciela Huinao



THE VOICE OF MY FATHER

In indomitable language
My verses are born
Of the prolonged
Night of the extermination

Translation by Allison Ramay




                                         Foto: Biblioteca Nacional de Chile

Graciela Huinaowas born in Chaurakawin, current province of Osorno, Chile, in 1956. In 1987 she published his first
poem “La Loika”. In 1994 it was published in the U.S. in the anthology Ûl: Tour Mapuche Poets. She has published
the mapudungun-Spanish bilingual poetry book: Walinto (2001), and the williche book of tales, TheGranddaughter of
the Sorcerer (2003). In 2006 she published the poetry co-edition Hilandoen la memoria: 7 women Mapuche poets. Her
poems have been anthologized in France, Poland, Argentina, Mexico, USA, and Spain. For her literary work she has
been invited to Colombia, Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay, Peru, Ecuador, Mexico, United States and China. He is currently
preparing his first novel,From the stove of a house of Williche whores.




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Juan Gregorio Regino


I KNOW THE LANGUAGE OF THE WORLD


The world already goes round with me, already opens the doors for me.
I can listen to those who talk, to those who laugh, to those who cry. I go on discovering the
mystery of the world. The world already goes round with me, teaches me and talks to me.
Because I know the language of the world. Because I know the language of hills, of thunder,
of trees and of days. Because I know the language of the sun.
Because I know the language of stones,
of the earth, of flowers and of nights.
Because I know the language of the stars.
Because I know the language of the moon,
of clouds, of the sea and death.
Let the flowers come now.
Let the birds come now.
Let the roosters come now.
Let them sing with me.
Let the tree resin come.
Let the tobacco come.
Let the cacao come,
let them listen to me.
They will be my guards.
They will be the keys
that will open the doors for me.
They will watch me
in the clearness, in the visible,
in the dark and the shadows.
They will be my guards.

Translation by Nicolas Suescun




                                                                    Foto: Festival Internacional de Poesía de Medellín

Juan Gregorio Regino is one of the leading poets in indigenous languages in the Americas. He is Mazatec, born in 1962
in Chicicazapa, Solyaltepec, Oaxaca. In 1987, he received his bachelor’s degree in ethnoliguistics and a second degree
from the Center for Research and Graduate Studies in Social Anthropology. He was president of the Center for Writers
in Indigenous Languages during the 1990s. Regino’s work follows two distinct paths. One is contemporary, the other is
contemporary and based more closely in the Mesoamerican world. Among his best known works is the often translated
poem to Maria Sabina, the famed shaman (Taken from Words Withour Borders).



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MorelaManeiro



INVOCACIÓN A LA SELVA


Venerables primordiales:
Padre sol atiéndenos
Abuela tierra manto protector.
Laguna encantamiento tenebroso
Cerro resguárdanos a nuestros hermanos.
Ríos a nuestros abuelos escúchenlos.
Aires ampárennos a nuestros hijos.
Dueños de animales a nuestros nietos socórranlos.
Minerales del inframundo midan pasos de nuestros bisnietos.
Fortifícanos odas del tiempo
Cantos de arañas con karaña.
Cosecha de siete soles.




                                                                                                           Foto:Letralia


MorelaManeiro was born in Ciudad Bolívar, Bolivar State, Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela, on August 19, 1967. She
belongs to the Kari’ña indigenous people. She coordinated the national literacy program called “the Robinson Mission”
in the communities of the Bolivar State. From the age of 11 she has participated in social development movements, and
through art she has interacted with various cultural educational institutions, has participated in leadership courses on
the defense of the environment, workshops, seminars, photographic and artisanal exhibitions and literature festivals that
highlight the indigenous culture. As President of the Marawaka Foundation, she has supported the struggle of indigenous
peoples to reconquer their cultural political spaces from the place they have to assume in favor of indigenous peoples.
In the words of Adalys Javier, “... The poetry of MorelaManeiro is profound, mystical, progressive, emancipatory and
revolutionary.” I was doing like the ant, getting into those labyrinths of the earth and began to know the stadiums and
began to see how deep it is to know oneself. ”




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Samuel Wagan Watson

TERROR (WELCOME TO NO MAN’S LAND)

“…You talk about terror…I been terrorized all my days!”
From “Terrorized”
Mr Willie King, Alabama Blues Legend
 (1943 – 2009)

All the signs read, SMILE…YOU’RE ON CAMERA, Welcome to No Man’s Land, you’re
standing on Terra Firma, that some explorer once coined Terra Australis, and another explorer
then retouched with Terra Nullius, that stole this land’s dreams, Terra Firma could be the next
target in the War on Terror, from Terra Australis, to Anti-terror Laws, SMILE…YOU’RE
ON CAMERA, Welcome to No Man’s Land, Terra Australis, with it’sTerra Firma, deemed
Terra Nullius, embroiled into the War on Terror and everyone is governed by Anti-terror
Laws, SMILE…YOU’RE ON CAMERA, Welcome to No Man’s Land, population under
observation, you gotta love a sun-burnt country with a dry, split personality. Terra Australis,
under Terra Nullius, right where you’re standing on Terra Firma with it’s beauty and it’s Terror,
Terror, Terror…Welcome to No Man’s Land.




                                                   Foto: Sara Marín

Samuel Wagan Watson (Australia, 1972). Born in Brisbane in 1972, Samuel Wagan Watson is of Munanjali, BirriGubba,
German, Dutch and Irish descent. He spent much of his childhood on the Sunshine Coast before returning to Brisbane
to start a career. He was the winner of the 1999 David Unaipon award for emerging Indigenous writers with his first
collection of poetry, Of Muse, Meandering and Midnight. Since then he has written four more collections; Itinerant Blues
(2001), Hotel Bone (2001), Smoke Encrypted Whispers (2004), which won the 2005 New South Wales Premier’s Book
of the Year and the Kenneth Slessor Poetry Prize, and The Curse Words (2011). (Taken from Poetry International Web).




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                                POETS OF THE WORLD UNITE AGAINST WAR
HajiGoraHaji


MARAVILLAS

Acontecen maravillas
El pulpo fue atrapado en el bosque
Según lo que usted dice
Aquellos sin alas volaron
La madera rompió el hacha
El arenque se comió el gato
Te lo digo para que lo sepas
Y no te sorprendas
Los pollitos se comieron la cometa
Es un secreto dentro de un secreto
El camaleón dejó atrás al coche
Si así lo consideras
Hay otra palabra como esta
A través del ojo de la aguja
La hormiga que es pequeña
Por el amor de Dios
el mono fue pescado en la costa
¿ustedes nuestros ulemas?
aquellos que vuelan se sentaron
¿qué otra cosa puede ser si no la muerte?
¿qué más se puede decir?
muchas cosas hoy en día
son las maravillas de la Gracia Divina
es fabuloso si reparas en ello
No es cuestión de astucia ni de buen juicio
en la velocidad se queda atrás
al final no podrás terminarlo
de esto también yo hablo
el elefante pasó verticalmente
y se atoró.

Traducción de Francesca Randazzo


HajiGoraHaji nació en Zanzíbar, isla cercana a Tanzania, el 10 de marzo de 1933. Poeta, cuentista, novelista, dramaturgo,
autor de canciones, trovador y narrador épico, activo creador durante 40 años. Escribe su obra en Ki-Tumbatu, dialecto
de su isla natal, así como en Ki-Unguja, el Swahili de Zanzibar, del que se originó el actual swahili. Nacido dentro de una
familia numerosa, transcurrió buena parte de su infancia como pescador, marinero y como distribuidor de especias en los
puertos. Publicó la Antología Kimbunga (El Huracán), en 1994. Participa activamente en programas literarios en la radio
de Tanzania. Es miembro honorífico de diversos grupos literarios y culturales en su país. Sus poemas han sido traducidos
al inglés, francés y holandés. Participó en el Festival Internacional de Poesía de Rotterdam en 1999.




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DukeRerbird

SOY EL HOMBRE ROJO


Soy el hombre rojo
Hijo del bosque, la montaña y el lago
¿Para qué el asfalto?
¿Para qué ladrillo y concreto?
¿Para qué el automóvil?
Crees que estos dones son divinos
Y que debería estar humildemente agradecido...

Soy el hombre rojo
Hijo del árbol, la colina y la corriente
¿Para qué porcelana y cristal?
¿Para qué diamantes y oro?
¿Para qué dinero?
Crees que fueron enviados desde el cielo
Y que debería estar ansioso por aceptarlos.

Soy el hombre rojo
Hijo de la tierra, el agua y el cielo
¿Para qué seda y terciopelo?
¿Para qué nylon y plástico?
¿Para qué tu religión?
Crees que es santa y sagrada
Que debería arrodillarme con asombro.
Soy el hombre rojo
Te miro Hermano Blanco
Y te pido que
No me salves del pecado y el mal
Sálvate de ti mismo...


Traducción de León Blanco



DukeRedbird nació en Southampton, Ontario, en 1939. Poeta, pintor, ensayista, guionista de televisión y director de cine;
en los años 70’s y 80’s fue líder de importantes organizaciones políticas por la reivindicación de los pueblos indígenas.
Pertenece a la Nación Saugeen. Algunas de sus obras: Soy canadiense, 1978 y Resplandor de amor y vino rojo, 1981. Bajo el
título Rojo sobre blanco, Martin Dunn, escribió una biografía sobre DukeRedbird, en 1971.




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Gail Tremblay

CANTO INDÍGENA
EN LA AMÉRICA DEL SIGLO 20

Despertamos; despertamos el día,
la luz se levanta en nosotros como el sol -
nuestra respiración, una oración
rozando plumajes en nuestras manos.
Nos tambaleamos en las calles;
patrones de alambre inventados por extraños
han sido colgados entre ojo y cielo,
y bailamos en dos mundos,
inevitables como las estaciones en uno,
curiosidades exóticas en el otro
que se precipitan de cabeza por carreteras,
nos miran desde las ventanas del automóvil, nos explican
a sus hijos en palabras
que nadie podría jamás encontrarles
sentido. Las imágenes oscurecen
la visión, y nos preguntamos
si alguien alguna vez escuchará
nuestros propios nombres para las cosas
que hacemos. La luz baila en el cuerpo,
rodea todo lo viviente:
hasta las piedras cantan
aunque sus canciones son infinitamente
más bajas que las que aprendemos
de los árboles. Ninguna voz humana dura
lo suficiente para producir tal sonido musical.
La respiración de la Tierra se arremolina entre fábricas
y edificios de oficinas, acaricia la superficie
de nuestra piel; vamos al trabajo, el jefe
observa siempre el reloj a ver
si estamos a tiempo. Trata de
bloquear la magia y espera que cometamos
errores o desaparezcamos. Trabajamos
rápido y sin cesar y recordamos
que cada respiración altera la composición
del aire. El cambio se mueve implacable,
la forma emerge a pesar de su previsión-
estamos siempre ahí –Entonando juntos
canciones de la danza, recordando lo que apoya
nuestra vida -imposible de ignorar.

Traducción de León Blanco
Gail Tremblay nació en Buffalo, Estado de Nueva York, Estados Unidos, en 1945. Pertenece a la Nación Mi’kmaq-
Onondaga. Es poeta, dramaturga, profesora y artista plástica. Ha recibido muchos premios por su poesía. Autora, entre
otros, de los libros de poesía: La noche le da a las mujeres la palabra, 1979; Cerca al hogar, 1981 y Canto indígena en la
América del Siglo 20, 1990. “Mezclando estilos modernos y tradicionales, tanto en sus escritos como en sus obras de arte,
Tremblay yuxtapone su experiencia de nativa americana moderna con la tradición, poniendo énfasis en los encuentros
entre pasado y presente. Su poesía explora el aislamiento que acompaña a la incomprensión cultural y a siglos de opresión.”

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Joséphin Bacon


Mi riqueza se llama
salmón
mi casa se llama
caribú
mi fuego se llama
espineta negra
mi canoa se llama
regordeta
mi traje se llama
liquen
mi tocado se llama
águila
mi canto se llama
tambor
yo, yo me llamo
humano

Traducción de Rafael Patiño


Joséphin Bacon nació en Pessamit, Nación Innu, Canadá, en 1947. Es poeta, traductora, cineasta, compositora y cantante.
Escribe su poesía en lengua Innu y en francés.Ha publicado los libros de poemas: ¡Aimititau! ¡Háblanos!, correspondencia
con José Acquelin, 2008; Bastones con Mensaje / Tshissinuatshitakana, edición bilingüe inuit/francés, 2009, Un Té en la
Tundra, 2013 y Todos Somos Salvajes, 2014.Dirigió la película documental Mishtikuashisht-El Pequeño Gran Europeo:
Johan Beetz (1996) y montó en la Gran Biblioteca de Québec la exposición Matshinanu–Nomades.
Es su poesía un diálogo con los cuatro puntos cardinales de su paisaje natal, su identidad, la tundra de los innu, las auroras
boreales, las estrellas y el canto de los antepasados, la compañía del caribú, el salmón, el lobo, el cuervo, el águila, el bosque, la
nieve, que encarnan con Papakassik, el amo de los animales terrestres, una experiencia de resistencia contra la colonización
y la explotación de los recursos naturales en su territorio.Al decir de NathalieLandreville, “Al igual que el salmón río arriba
para regresar de donde vino, Joséphine Bacon ha pasado casi toda su vida en busca de las huellas del pasado”.




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Joy Harjo


ESTE ES MI CORAZÓN (THIS IS MY HEART)

Este es mi corazón. Es un buen corazón.
Teje una membrana de niebla y fuego.
Cuando hacemos el amor en el mundo de las flores
Está tan cerca de ti que puede cantar
en un lenguaje demasiado torpe,
para las palabras humanas.

Esta es mi cabeza. Es una buena cabeza.
En su interior zumba un enjambre de preocupaciones.
¿Cuál es la fuente de este misterio?
¿Por qué no puedo verla aquí, en este preciso momento
tan real como estas manos que unen el mundo
a golpes de martillo?

Esta es mi alma. Es un buen alma.
Me dice, “Ven aquí olvidadiza.”
Y nos sentamos muy juntas
Cocinamos algo para comer,
luego sorbemos algo dulce,
para la memoria, para la memoria.

Este es mi canto. Es un buen canto.
Camina desde siempre los límites del fuego y el agua
ha trepado las costillas del deseo para dedicarte su canto.
Sus alas recién nacidas tiemblan en su vulnerabilidad.

Ven aquí recuéstate a mi lado.
Pon tu cabeza aquí.
Mi corazón está tan cerca que podrá cantar.

Traducción de Esteban Moore
Joy Harjo nació en Tulsa, Oklahoma, Estados Unidos, en 1951. Pertenece a la Nación Muskogee. En la Universidad de
Nuevo México realizó estudios de pintura y teatro. También escribió canciones para una banda de rock, PoeticJustice, de
la que ha sido cantante y también intérprete del saxofón. Ha publicado, entre otros, los libros de poemas: The Last Song,
1975; What Moon Drove Me to This?, 1979; SheHadSomeHorses, 1983; Secretsfrom the Center of the World, 1989; In
MadLove and War, 1990; The WomanWhoFellfrom the Sky, 1994; The GoodLuckCat, 2000; A Map to the Next World,
2000; HowWeBecame Human: New and SelectedPoems: 1975-2001, 2002; A Map to the Next World: Poems and Tales,
2001. También ha publicado en revistas tales como Massachusetts Review, Ploughshares, RiverStyx, Contact II, The
BloomsburyReview, Journal of Ethnic Studies, American Voice, Sonora Review, KenyonReview, Beloit Poetry Review,
GreenfieldReview y Puerto del Sol. Ha enseñado en la Universidad de Colorado, en la Universidad de Arizona, en la
Universidad de Nuevo México y en la Universidad de California. Su obra poética ha recibido múltiples reconocimientos
en norteamérica, entre ellos el William Carlos Williams Award de la Poetry Society of America, por el mayor libro de
poesía, en 1991.




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Apirana Taylor


EL VIENTRE

Tus llamas quemaron mis bosques
dejando sólo los calcinados huesos
detotararimu y kahikatea1

Tus arados como uñas
de mujer dejaron cicatrices en mi rostro.
Parece que me hubiese convertido en un monstruo gigante.

Pero en la muerte
tus colonos y labradores
regresan a mí
y yo chupo sus cuerpos
como si fueran colombinas.

Soy la tierra
el vientre de la vida y de la muerte.
Ruamoko el dios sin nacer
retumba dentro de mí
y las llamas del Ruapehu2aún viven.


1 Árboles forestales que se encuentran a lo largo de Nueva Zelanda.
2 El más grande volcán activo de Nueva Zelanda

Traducción de Saray Torres



Apirana Taylor nació en 1955 y es un poeta popular y aclamado, novelista, cuentista, dramaturgo, actor, músico y pintor.
Pertenece a la Nación Maorí, Nueva Zelanda. Ha publicado cinco libros de poesía. Accesible, sensible y contundente,
su obra asume muchas formas, y se incluye en el currículo de inglés en las escuelas de Nueva Zelanda. No hay muchos
Kiwis, jóvenes o viejos, que no están familiarizados con su trabajo, él viaja extensamente por toda Nueva Zelanda e
internacionalmente como poeta, músico y narrador.
Entre sus libros de poesía publicados, están: Eyes of the Ruru; SoftLeaf Falls of the Moon; y Joyas en el agua. En 1994 ganó
el Premio Te Ha de poesía. Pionero e inspirador del teatro maorí, ha viajado a festivales de poesía en India, Austria,
Suiza, Italia y Alemania. Su obra poética ha sido traducida al alemán y al italiano. Su obra narrativa ha sido publicada
mayormente por la editorial Penguin.
En palabras de Apirana: “Soy un maorí de Aotearoa, un país comúnmente llamado Nueva Zelanda. “Maorí” quiere decir
ser un ser humano. Mis tribus son GatiPorou, Te Whanau a Apanui, NgatiRuanui y Te AtiAwa. También soy Pakeha en
parte, que es la palabra Maorí para una persona de ascendencia europea. El lenguaje, la identidad, la cultura son tres temas
relacionados que me ocupan pues estos hilos están tejidos a través de mi vida. Yo escribo sobre la pérdida del lenguaje, la
cultura y la identidad, tratando de recuperar lo que se ha perdido, para reconstruirlo. Escribo sobre el dolor el pueblo, y la
búsqueda de su curación…”
“…El lenguaje no existe por sí mismo. Proviene del alma del pueblo que habla la lengua. Es parte de la cultura e identidad
de un pueblo. Los maoríes son polinesios. Nuestros antepasados navegaron en el pacífico y fueron grandes marineros
que exploraron el océano, miles de años antes que los europeos. Nosotros colonizamos islas como Samoa y Tonga al
occidente, Hawai y Tahití al norte, Rapanui (la isla de Pascua) al oriente y navegamos hasta el extremo sur donde está mi
país Aotearoa (Nueva Zelanda). Nosotros hemos conservado en nuestros relatos tradicionales el registro de esas épicas
jornadas, en nuestras canciones y en nuestra poesía…”


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Graciela Huinao


LA VOZ DE MI PADRE


En lenguaje indómito
Nacen mis versos
De la prolongada
Noche del exterminio




Graciela Huinao nació en Chaurakawin, actual provincia de Osorno, Chile, en 1956. El año 1987 publicó su primer
poema “La Loika”. En 1994 fue publicada en E.E.U.U. en la antología Ûl: Four Mapuche Poets. Ha publicado el libro de
poesía bilingüe mapudungun-español: Walinto (2001), y el libro de relatos williche La nieta del brujo (2003). El año 2006
publicó la coedición de poesía Hilando en la memoria: 7 mujeres poetas mapuche. Ha sido antologada en Francia, Polonia,
Argentina, México, EE.UU. y España. Por su trabajo literario ha sido invitada a Colombia, Argentina, Brasil, Paraguay,
Perú, Ecuador, México, Estados Unidos y China. Actualmente prepara su primera novela Desde el fogón de una casa de
putas williche.




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Juan Gregorio Regino


CONOZCO LA LENGUA DEL MUNDO


El mundo ya gira conmigo,
ya me va abriendo sus puertas.
Puedo escuchar a quienes hablan,
a quienes ríen, a quienes lloran.
Voy descubriendo el misterio del mundo.
El mundo ya gira conmigo,
me enseña y me habla.
Porque yo conozco la lengua del mundo.
Porque yo conozco la lengua del cerro,
del trueno, del árbol y del día.
Porque yo conozco la lengua del sol.
Porque yo conozco la lengua de la piedra,
de la tierra, de la flor y de la noche.
Porque yo conozco la lengua de la estrella.
Porque yo conozco la lengua de la luna,
de la nube, del mar y de la muerte.
Que vengan ahora las flores.
Que vengan ahora los pájaros.
Que vengan ahora los gallos.
Que canten conmigo.
Que llegue ahora el copal.
Que llegue ahora el tabaco.
Que llegue ahora el cacao,
que me escuchen.
Ellos serán mis guardias.
Ellos serán las llaves
que me abrirán las puertas.
Ellos me vigilarán
en lo nítido, en lo visible,
en lo oscuro y las sombras.
Ellos serán mis guardias.


Juan Gregorio Regino nació en México, Nación Mazateca, en 1960. Su poesía está arraigada de la tradición oral presente
en la cultura mazateca de la que forma parte, donde ha hurgado la memoria para encontrar nuevos caminos a la literatura.
Su poesía se ha difundido en diversos países como: España, Francia, Italia, Serbia, Cuba, Argentina y Estados Unidos. En
1996 obtuvo el Premio Nezahualcóyotl de Literatura en Lenguas Mexicanas, otorgado por el Consejo Nacional para la
Cultura y las Artes. Ha publicado dos libros de poesía: Tatsjejinngakjaboya (No es eterna la muerte) y Ngata’araStsehe
(Que siga lloviendo). Una parte de su producción poética ha sido traducida al inglés, francés, italiano, serbio y catalán.
Prestigiados intelectuales se han ocupado de su obra como: Eliot Weinberger, Jerome Rothenberg, Miguel León – Portilla,
Carlos Montemayor, EarlShorris, PhilippeOllé – Laprune, Elvira Dolores Maison, Donald Frischmann y Ramón Torrents.




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MorelaManeiro


INVOCACIÓN A LA SELVA

Venerables primordiales:
Padre sol atiéndenos
Abuela tierra manto protector.
Laguna encantamiento tenebroso
Cerro resguárdanos a nuestros hermanos.
Ríos a nuestros abuelos escúchenlos.
Aires ampárennos a nuestros hijos.
Dueños de animales a nuestros nietos socórranlos.
Minerales del inframundo midan pasos de nuestros bisnietos.
Fortifícanos odas del tiempo
Cantos de arañas con karaña.
Cosecha de siete soles.




MorelaManeiro nació en Ciudad Bolívar, Estado Bolívar, República Bolivariana de Venezuela, el 19 de agosto de 1967.
Pertenece al pueblo indígena Kari’ña. Coordinó el programa de alfabetización nacional denominada “la Misión Robinson”
en las comunidades del Estado Bolívar. Desde los 11 años ha participado en movimientos de desarrollo social y a través del
arte ha interactuado con diversas instituciones educativas culturales, ha participado en cursos de liderazgo sobre la defensa
del ambiente, talleres, seminarios, exposiciones fotográficas, artesanales y festivales de literatura que destacan la cultura
indígena. Como Presidenta de la Fundación Marawakaha apoyado la lucha de los pueblos indígenas por reconquistar sus
espacios políticos culturales desde el lugar que le toca asumir a favor de los pueblos indígenas. Al decir de Adalys Javier,
“…La poesía de MorelaManeiro es profunda, mística, progresista, emancipadora y revolucionaria.”. Fui haciendo como la
hormiga, metiéndome por esos laberintos de la tierra y comencé a conocer los estadios y comencé a ver lo profundo que
es conocerse uno mismo.”




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Samuel Wagan Watson


TERROR (BIENVENIDO A TIERRA DE NADIE)

“…Ustedes hablan de terror… ¡yo he estado aterrorizado toda mi vida!”
De “Terrorized”, MrWillie King,
Leyenda del Blues de Alabama (1943 – 2009)

Todas las señales rezan SONRÍA…ESTÁ EN CÁMARA, Bienvenido a Tierra de Nadie,
usted está pisando Terra Firma, que algún otro explorador acuñó Terra Australis, y otro
explorador luego retocó con Terra Nullius, que robó los sueños de esta tierra, Terra Firma
pudiera ser el próximo blanco de la Guerra al Terror, de Terra Australis a Leyes Anti-terrorismo,
SONRÍA…ESTÁ EN CÁMARA, Bienvenido a Tierra de Nadie, Terra Australis, con su
Terra Firma, considerada Terra Nullius, embrollada en la Guerra al Terror y todo el mundo es
gobernado por las Leyes Anti-terrorismo, SONRÍA…ESTÁ EN CÁMARA, Bienvenido a
Tierra de Nadie, población bajo observación, tienes que amar un país tostado de sol con una
personalidad seca, escindida. Terra Australis, bajo Terra Nullius, justo donde pisas Terra Firma
con su belleza y su Terror, Terror, Terror…Bienvenido a Tierra de Nadie.

Traducción de Omar Pérez




Samuel Wagan Watson nació en Brisbane en 1972. En su sangre coexisten ancestros irlandeses, alemanes, Bundjalung y
BirriGubba. Hijo del novelista y activista político Sam Watson, quien era el único estudiante indígena en la Universidad
de Queensland, en 1971. Reconoce entre sus influencias las de Nick Cave, Tom Waits, Jack Kerouac, Charles Bukowski y
Robert Adamson. Su poesía oscila entre la observación de la vida cotidiana y los efectos de la colonización en un lenguaje
vívidamente directo, casi táctil. Ha publicado, entre otros, los libros de poesía: De Musa, sinuosa y medianoche, 1999; Blues
Itinerante, 2002; Hotel hueso, 2001; Susurros cifrados de humo, 2004, Premio de Poesía KennettSlessor al mejor libro de
poesía del año, 2005; Perros de tres patas y otros poemas, 2005.

Obtuvo el Premio David Unaipon de poesía para jóvenes escritores indígenas. Su poesía oscila entre la observación de la
vida cotidiana y los efectos de la colonización en un lenguaje vívidamente directo, casi táctil. Entre otros reconocimientos
recibió en el año 2000 un importante premio por sus contribuciones sobresalientes a la cultura australiana.




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                                POETS OF THE WORLD UNITE AGAINST WAR
WHAT POETRY
                     MEANS TO ME




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What Poetry Means to Me

Ayo Ayoola-Amale

Poetry means… what the world means, it means life, a meaning of life, knowing what that
meant, not knowing what that meant… So poetry is an art of communicating using the five
senses. Poetry iswhat exactly our senses feel and how our mind interprets them in a way that
the words stir up the exact sensory perceptions and thoughts in the listener or reader.
Talking about poetry in a deeper way is talking about the active inner part of the self. Poems
give voice to the indefinable inner states and expression to the poet’s soul.

“For we are not pans and barrows, nor even porters of the fire and torch-bearers, but children
of the fire, made of it, and only the same divinity transmuted, an at two or three removes, when
we know least about it.” - Emerson’s “The Poet”- A Circling.

Poetry is so important because it reveresus. Itreveres the unfamiliar and helps us understand
the world. It helps us appreciate the world. Poetry awaken our minds and nourish our
imagination.It tells us the truth about ourselves and teaches us how to live.
To me poetry is a song from my heart, it is expression from my soul that connects with the
souls of others. Poetry is my purest expression, my expression of self from my heart, my release,
my freedom…
I have told my time several times to go to poetry. It’s basically a sanctuary where I can be
myself without fear.My poems, my sanctuary.
I have spent my time writingpoems like in drawing a mental picture.

In “Of Asphodel, That Greeny Flower,” by WC Williams:
It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack
Of what is found there.

Poetry is a big part of me. Out there in a boarding house, leaving home for the first time,
that’s when poetry found me.I love writing poetry. I love reading poems. Poetryis good for
my soul.As a child poetry gave me a great tool for developing myself, for developing my skills
and it thought methe art of creative expression.
Poetry helps me understand people. Poetry helps me understand myself.
Poetry helps me make sense of the world around me. In doing so, it helps me re-claim that
which i might have subdued for the sake of my ordinary survival.
Poetry means… What reallydoes poetry mean to me?
Poetry means so much to me that I could go on and on about what it means to me forever.It is
an art that has limitless meaning, Poetry to me is life. Poetry is the world we live in and what
happens within it. Poetry is the beauty of the heart. Poetry is freedom, the essence, the truth,
the meaning of life,perfect words,fresh seeing, fresh tasting, i could go on and on…
Poetry is a surreal form of expressing my thoughts, emotions and experiences. Poetry has
made it possible for me to pour out the feelings that i hold in my heart. Poetry has made me
write down the feelings in my heart. Poetry makes me more fully human.Poetry is a release of
my creativity and emotions.


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To me, being a poet means everything. Poetry means everything to me.
It means finding my voice and representing ‘the people’ as a whole.
I am a poet whose passion for poetry is combined with a passion for social change.I believe
that poetry can change the world. It explains why most of my poems recognize and honour
the human spirit with a sense of joy and wholeness.To me, poetry is a weapon.Poetry is an
outlet that gives light to darkness.
I know that great poetry has the power to start a fire. Poetry has power to start a powerful
force in a person’s life and in the way we see the world.
It can change the way we see ourselves. It can change the way we see others. It can change
the way we see the world. Great poetry calls out our deepbeing. It calls for the fullness of
humanity.
In most part of Africa, it was typical for every community or tribe to pass down timeless
wisdom in couplets, poetic songs, and proverbs and therefore keep it alive across generationsIn
Yoruba land, poetry is a community. Poetry is a sacred prayer. Society is very important to
the conversation of the oral poet in social occasions like the naming of a child, wedding and
funeral ceremonies where poetry is brought to ordinary people on the street.A personal poem
like oracle poetry is spiritual which consist of poetic chants and songs.
Poetry is only a meaning of life. Poetry means…

According to Poet Jane Hirshfield: “Whether from reading the New England Transcendentalists
or Eskimo poetry, I feel that everything I know about being human has been deepened by the
poems I’ve read.”

This is what poetry means to me: It means speaking my mind. It means being heard. It means
knowing that listeners or readers of my poems will see their own truths in it.
Poetry means…
Poetry means passion bursting… I could go on and on.




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Poetry is the language, which leads to Life
Rati Saxena

Once, while driving on the highway I saw a number of advertisements. Some of them were for
jewelry and some for dresses. Last time I saw an interesting board advertising “sari”. It had a
beautiful woman wearing a beautiful sari - and lines were written on them - sari is poetry on
the body of a woman.
Among common people poetry is always related with beauty, flowers, rose, cloud and birds.
All beautiful things come in the category of poetry. But in the world of poets, poetry talks
about pain, sorrow, war and even hatred. Poetry is another name for life, and life contains
everything - good or bad, love or hate, beauty and no beauty. All the contradictions! In other
words, the definition of beauty is different in poetry, and the approach is also different.
Death is a difficult thing for everyone, but poetry tries to go beyond the death. It explains
different dimensions of the death, the death in war is cruelty but death in old age is liberation.
Poetry goes beyond the relief even and tries to go in search of a new world. Poetry walks
towards liberation through pain; it searches for beauty in every pain and sorrow. Poetry is not
short-term emotions, which survive only for some time, but it is a combination of thought,
emotion and life experience.
History is crucified in a half burnt stage directly in front of open eyes; Neruda’s poem is lying
near the dead bodies of children, and a young girl is standing like a black shadow resisting the
suppression of the voice and sight of the young generation. The lines on the palms have been
question marked. These things happen in front of people belonging to all generations.
What is the truth of poetry? In other words, what is poetry itself ? A subject which is discussed
a lot is not a new theme. In fact all societies and intellectuals have their own thoughts on this
issue. Intellectuals of our contemporary period feel that poetry should talk about the realities
of society, reality means the rawness and the cruelty we see around us. At the same time a large
number of people still enjoy poetry in lyric, appreciate beauty and imagination in filmy style.
I sometimes wonder -- the critic says that poetry should be of people related to the earth, but
the earth belongs to so many other creatures, like earthworms, worms, snakes, lizards, spiders
and so on. Romantic poetry was poetry that devoted itself to the beautiful things around
us – the romantic poets talked a lot about flowers, butterflies, clouds, mountains and the
innumerable things in nature that stirred the sense of beauty in human beings and inspired
them to appreciate the wonderful creations of this world. Truly speaking, poetry has in the real
sense ignored those who are close to the earth. In our selfishness, we think for ourselves, only
for ourselves; with this state of mind, how can we think for or about others who are closer to
the earth than we?
So poetry is universal, and connect me to universe and leads to light as Indian Upanishads say-
“Keep me not in the Darkness (of Ignorance), but lead me towards the Light (of Spiritual
Knowledge),
Keep me not in the (Fear of ) Death (due to the bondage of the Mortal World), but lead me
towards the Immortality (gained by the Knowledge of the Immortal Self beyond Death)”.




                                  POETRY PLANETARIAT | ISSUE 3, WINTER 2019-2020, ISTANBUL / MEDELLIN    39
                                                                  POETS OF THE WORLD UNITE AGAINST WAR
40   POETRY PLANETARIAT | ISSUE 3, WINTER 2019-2020, ISTANBUL / MEDELLIN
     POETS OF THE WORLD UNITE AGAINST WAR
IN MEMORIAM




  POETRY PLANETARIAT | ISSUE 3, WINTER 2019-2020, ISTANBUL / MEDELLIN    41
                                  POETS OF THE WORLD UNITE AGAINST WAR
ORHAN VELİ KANIK(1914-1950)

He started the second new movement that brought novelty tothe essence of Turkish poetry
after thefree verse revolution realized by NâzımHikmet. He was actually one of three pioneers.
In this issue you will find excerpts from the “Garip” Manifesto co-written with his friends
OktayRıfat (1914-1988) and MelihCevdetAnday (1915-2002) in year 1941, elaborating their
reformist literary outburst. It can be said that in their long lives Anday and Oktay’s poetry
reached universal standards. On the other hand, the brief life of OrhanVeli which ended with
an unfortunate accident at the age of thirty six, and whom we commemorate on his 70th death
anniversary this year, became the foremost name associated with the Garip Movement. In my
opinion it can also be said that he deserved this identification in his own lifetime.
What is “Garip” and why is it “strange?” It will become obvious when one reads the manifesto.
It is evident that nothing is actually strange. What is manifest is that this poetry does away
with difficult and classic metaphors, standard rhymes and metres to create a stark poetry. One
needs to think of this concept as a paradox, a hint that will pull in the reader, a kind of fishing
hook, if you will.
OrhanVeli crammed in a lot of things into his short life. Yahya Kemal Beyatlı, the founder of
20th Century Turkish Poetry before NâzımHikmethad years ago stated that every language
had a “unique, natural, sincere, simple mode of expression without ornament” and it was
up to the poet to extract this. This is precisely what OrhanVeli accomplished. He is a rare
trailblazing poet who managed to mold the unique, bare, natural and austere expression of the
Turkish language into a poetic language. This is the secret of his ongoing influence on Turkish
poetry to this day.
                                                                                   A. Behramoğlu


POEMS OF ORHAN VELİ KANIK

I Can’t Explain
If I cried, could you hear
My voice in my poems,
Could you touch my tears
With your hands?

Before I fell prey to this grief,
I never knew songs were so enchanting
And words so mild.

I know there’s a place
Where you can talk about everything;
I feel I’m close to that place,
Yet I can’t explain.
Translation by Murat Nemet-Nejat




42   POETRY PLANETARIAT | ISSUE 3, WINTER 2019-2020, ISTANBUL / MEDELLIN
     POETS OF THE WORLD UNITE AGAINST WAR
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