Dörtlükler VI

Biz gerçekten bir kukla sahnesindeyiz: 
Kuklacı Felek usta, kuklalar da biz. 
Oyuna çıkıyoruz birer, ikişer ikişer; 
Bitti mi oyun, sandıktayız hepimiz. 

 
Dünya üç beş bilgisizin elinde; 
Onlarca her bilgi kendilerinde. 
Üzülme; eşek eşeği beğenir: 
Hayır var sana kötü demelerinde. 

 
Dedim: artık bilgiden yana eksiğim yok;  
Şu dünyanın sırrına ermişim az çok. 
Derken aklım  geldi başıma, bir de baktım: 
Ömrüm gelip geçmiş, hiç bir şey bildiğim yok. 

 
Cennette huriler varmış, kara gözlü; 
İçkinin de ordaymış en güzeli. 
Desene biz çoktan cennetlik olmuşuz: 
Bak, bir yanda şarap, bir yanda sevgili. 

 
Sen sofusun, hep dinden dem vurursun; 
Bana da sapık, dinsiz der durursun. 
Peki, ben ne görünüyorsam oyum: 
Ya sen? Ne görünüyorsan o musun? 

 
Varlık yokluk derdini aklından sil; 
Bırak öteleri de kendini bil. 
Doldur şarabı, geniş bir nefes al: 
Kaç nefes alacağın belli değil. 

 
Bir elde kadeh, bir elde Kuran; 
Bir helaldir işimiz, bir haram. 
Şu yarım yamalak dünyada 
Ne  tam kafiriz, ne tam müslüman! 

 
Ey kör! Bu yer, bu gök, bu yıldızlar boştur boş! 
Bırak onu bunu da gönlünü tut hoş! 
Şu durmadan kurulup dağılan evrende 
Bir nefestir alacağın, o da boştur boş! 

 
Leyla isteyen kişi Mecnun olmalı; 
Kendinden de, dünyasından da geçmeli. 
Sevenlerin sofrasına çağrılınca 
Ben körüm, ben dilsizim demeli. 

 
Öldürmek de, yaşatmak da senin işin; 
Bu dünyayı gönlünce düzenleyen sensin. 
Ben kötüyüm diyelim, kimde kabahat? 
Beni böyle yaratan sen değil misin? 


Ömer HAYYAM

Dörtlükler V

Şu testi de benim gibi biriydi; 
O da bir güzele vurgun, dertliydi. 
Kim bilir, belki boynundaki kulp da 
Bir sevgilinin bem beyaz eliydi. 

 
İnciyi isteyen dalgıç olacak; 
Varı yoğu dosta verip dalacak. 
Canı avucunda, nefesi göğsünde: 
Ayağı baş olacak, başı ayak 

 
Girme şu alçakların hizmetine: 
Konma sinek gibi pislik üstüne. 
İki günde bir somun ye, ne olur! 
Yüreğinin kanını iç de boyun eğme. 

 
Bir taş bulamazsın ki Doğu ovalarında 
Küfretmesin bana da, benim zamanıma da 
Yüz adım yürü bak, bir dertli insan görürsün: 
Bunalmış, otura kalmış yolun kenarında. 

 
Güneş attı göğe sabah kemendini: 
Aydınlık padişahı atına bindi. 
İçin! için! diye bağırdı dört yana 
Canım sabah şarabının  müezzini. 

 
Bu kadeh bir bedendir, cana gebe! 
Bir yasemindir, erguvana gebe! 
Hayır; yanlış; ne odur şarap ne bu: 
Bir sudur, bir su ki yangına gebe! 

 
Gökte bir öküz varmış, adı Pervin; 
Bir öküz de altındaymış yerin. 
Sen asıl iki öküz arasında 
Tepişmesine bak şu eşeklerin! 

 
Ne bilginler geldi, neler buldular! 
Mumlar gibi dünyaya ışık saldılar. 
Hangisi yarıp geçti bu karanlığı? 
Birer masal söyleyip uyuya kaldılar. 


Bir sır daha var, çözdüklerimizden başka! 
Bir ışık daha var, ışıklardan başka. 
Hiç bir yaptığınla yetinme, geç öteye: 
Bir şey daha var bütün yapıtlardan başka. 


Bir damla şarap ver Çin senin olsun; 
Bir yudumu bütün dinlerden üstün. 
Söyle, ne var dünyada şaraptan hoş? 
O acıya tatlılar feda olsun. 


Ömer HAYYAM

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'T is some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--
                                          Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow:--vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore--
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
                                          Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'T is some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;--
                                          This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"--here I opened wide the door;--
                                          Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"
                                          Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore--
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--
                                          'T is the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door--
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door--
                                          Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore,--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
                                          Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door--
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
                                          With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered--not a feather then he fluttered--
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before--
On the morrow _he_ will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
                                          Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
                                          Of 'Never--nevermore.'"

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore--
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
                                          Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
                                          _She_ shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite--respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
                                          Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!--
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by Horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore--
Is there--_is_ there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!"
                                          Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above, us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
                                          Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!--quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
                                          Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
                                          Shall be lifted--nevermore!





    "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
    Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore."




    "Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
    And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor."




    "Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainly I had sought to borrow
    From my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore."




"Sorrow for the lost Lenore."




    "For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
                                      Nameless here for evermore."




    "'T is some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door--
    Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door."




    "Here I opened wide the door;--
                                      Darkness there, and nothing more."




    "Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."



    "'Surely,' said I, 'surely that is something at my window lattice;
    Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.'"




    "Open here I flung the shutter."




    ... "A stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he."




    "Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door--
                                      Perched, and sat, and nothing more."




    "Wandering from the Nightly shore."




    "Till I scarcely more than muttered, 'Other friends have flown before--
    On the morrow _he_ will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'"




    "Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
    Fancy unto fancy."




    "But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
                                      _She_ shall press, ah, nevermore!"




    "'Wretch,' I cried, 'thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent thee
    Respite--respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!'"




    "On this home by Horror haunted."




    ... "Tell me truly, I implore--
    Is there--_is_ there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!"




    "Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore."




    "'Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked, upstarting."




    "'Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!'"



    "And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
                                      Shall be lifted--nevermore!"

Edgar Allan POE