Culture. Eat it
14 May 2017
The book on the nightstand: Poems of Nazim Hikmet
Today I will tell you about Nazim Hikmet, I’ll tell you about his poems of love.
Get comfortable and let yourself be carried by his words.
In this autumn night,
I am full of your words,
eternal as time and matter
naked as an eye,
heavy as a hand,
words clear and shining as stars.
Your words come to me
from your heart,
Your words deliver you,
Your words are sad,
Your words are human.
I discovered this poet thanks to an italian movie titled “His secret life” by Ferzan Ozpetek.
I still remember how I felt after seeing it. I felt in love with it, I was so excited by every detail but more than anything else I wanted that book, that red book called Poems of love.
Who knows, maybe we do not love him so much
If our souls were not to be seen
from a distance
We would not be so close, who knows,
If the fate had not divided us.
Sixteen years after the release of the film I would change many, too many things: the hairstyles that are so retro, the clothes suddenly too big, too flat, some dialogues already heard, already lived and yet
the only thing left unchanged over time are the Poems by the Turkish poet Nazim Hikmet.
The most beautiful sea
hasn’t been crossed yet.
The most beautiful child
hasn’t grown up yet.
Our most beautiful days
we haven’t seen yet.
And the most beautiful words
I wanted to tell you
I haven’t said yet.
No matter if in the meantime you have changed, you have become cynical, if you no longer believe in love or you no longer need poetry to fall in love.
Sometimes, it is true, there is no need to go far: there is poetry everywhere, even in simple and never ordinary everyday love. Hikmet, however, in telling his life as a man, a prisoner, a lover and a beloved, didn’t stop believing in poetry.
This is his the most beautiful collection in which he recounts his social commitment, but above all he speaks poetically about feelings.
His Poems know how to come straight to heart and remain there for eternity.
You are my enslavement and my freedom
you are my flesh burning like a raw summer night
you are my country
you are the green silks in hazel eyes
you are my big, beautiful and triumphant
and you are my sorrow that isn’t felt
the more I feel it.
Poetry survives in the time that flows inescapable, survives in us that read it today, and we no longer recite, but if we give a gift to whom we love – in the broadest sense of the term – we will know that it will survive, and we too.
different love nights
Ph. Sara Cartelli
© The Eat Culture
She is an art historian, optimistic and empathic by nature. She imagines a world where sow kindness enjoying the little things. She's in love with stories since she was a child, for the Eat Culture she eats books and arts. Per aspera ad astra says the only tattoo on her skin. It reminds her that the road that leads to her dreams is not always easy but that she never gives up.