To believe I’m happy
No need for paper or pen;
My cigarette in my hand,
I’m engrossed in the blue,
In the view in front of me.

I go, drawn to the sea;
Drawn to the sea, held by the world.
Something like firewater around?
Is it in the air
That it intoxicates, drives you crazy?

I know, it’s all lies, lies;
I’m not a small sailing boat;
No coolness of the water on my ribs,
No wind howling around the sheets,
No engine sound that doesn’t cease for weeks.
All lies.

But still,
I still could have some nice days;
In this blueness,
Just like watermelon rind, afloat,
The reflection of a tree in the sky,
The morning dew on plums,
Dew, mist, light, smell…

Paper or pen not enough for me
To believe I’m happy.
Nonsense, all nonsense.
I’m not a sailing boat.
I should be somewhere,
Yes, I should be somewhere,
Not melon rind,
Nor light, nor mist, nor dew…
Just human.

Orhan Veli (1914-1950). Dalga. Translated from the Turkish.

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