Those asleep with the beloved, who
In this union, enjoy all the fortunes of life,
Do not see the dawn of the horizon;
Time is an endless pleasure for them.
Love’s primordial garden is their dream;
Every season is summer, every breeze unique,
The cries of nightingales are not heard in this joy,
Roses do not fade, nor moon set;
For all eyes, the sky is ever blue,
Equal are the rich and poor;
Love is refreshed in dreamy ponds,
Listening to the harmony of ever flowing water.
If ever a soul inhabits this verdant garden,
The beloved’s arms around one’s neck, the beloved in one’s arms,
Drifting in the perfume of her hair,
The enchantment of love is felt in each breath.
As if existence, strewn with stars,
Is now miraculously in the eyes,
Not to be deceived by the longest buss, thirsty as it kisses;
Since the joy that thirsts is the salt in the lips;
Whatever humans created comes from this thirst.
A secret, since we have within us the divine.
Those who are in gardens of roses aflame,
What chance, what place, brings them here one day?
Brought here by destiny,
Love has the desire of winds;
Their path… life’s path of light:
In an evening, what a heavenly race!
As the chariot arrives at full speed,
For the two lovers the horizon grows more boundless.
Their faces shine in victory,
Torches decorate the sky.
Those asleep with the beloved, who
Feel a heavenly joy in existence,
Forgetting the world;
If on the neglected hour the ruthless clock chimes,
Wakes them from their delightful sleep,
All becomes a pitch black dungeon.
Disastrous to wake to such a world,
Devastation, from day to day, with the pain of separation.
O fortune! Worse than even death is this darkness;
O love! Their hearts are yours now;
O union! To your charm, subjugate the lovers!
O sweet, sublime night! For years live on!
Yahya Kemal Beyatlı (1884-1958). Vuslat. Translated from the Turkish.
