light falls down

i came across this poem today and i wanted to share it because i received an unexpected, welcome communication that brough the light down as it were. the poem is by ahmet hasim and it’s entitled “promised land”. hasim was a turkish poet who wrote in the french symbolist style so nothing is exactly as it seems. the visual and sensory images that will fill your mind as you read can be stepped backwards from and in so doing, reveal the intricate symbolic architecture of the poem, which in turn reveals something of the reader and the writer also. hasim’s poems carry themselves with strength and courage and grace even when read literally. here’s an excerpt to warm you up:


Slowly you will ascend these stairs,
A bundle of sun-colored leaves on your skirts,
And once you will look, crying, at the skies...
The waters blanch.. as your face pales curtain-like,
As evening comes—observe the reddened air...

now that’s wickedgood writing! oh my! as i read “promised land”, i got to thinking of istanbul and especially of the blue mosque which would surely be on my list of places i would love to visit. here’s an image of a detail from the ceiling.


thanks to traveladventures.org for the sweet pic.

here’s the poem.

PROMISED LAND

Let it play with your hair, this gentle breeze
Blowing from the seven seas.
If only you knew
How lovely you are the way you gaze at the edge of the night
Steeped in the grief of exile and longing, in sorrow.

Neither you
Nor I
Nor the dusk that gathers in your beauty
Nor the blue sea.
That safe harbour for the distress that assaults the brain-
We spurn the generation which knows nothing of the soul's pain.

Mankind today
Brands you merely a fresh slender woman
And me just an old fool.
That wretched appetite, that filthy sight
Can find no meaning in you or me
Nor a tender grief in the night
Nor the sullen tremor of secrecy and disdain
On the calm sea.

You and I
And the sea
And the night that seems to gather silently,
Without trembling, the fragrance of your soul,
Far away
Torn asunder from the land where blue shadows hold sway,
We are forever doomed to this exile here.

That land?
Stretches along the chaste regions of imagination, and
A blue nightfall
Reposes there for all;
At its outer edges, the sea
Pours the calm of sleep on each soul...

There, women are lovely, tender, nocturnal, pure.
Over their eyes your sadness hovers,
They are all sisters or lovers:
The tearful kisses on their lips can cure,
And the indigo quiet of their inquiring eyes
Can soothe the heart's suffering.
Their souls are violets
Distilled from the night of despair,
In a ceaseless search for silence and repose.
The dim glare from the moon's sorrows
Finds haven in their immaculate hands.

Ah, they are so frail-
The mute anguish they share,
The night deep in thought, the ailing sea ...
They all resemble each other there.

That land
Is on which imaginary continent, and
Dimmed by what distant river?
Is it a land of illusions- or real,
A utopia bound to remain unknown forever?

I do not know ... All I know is
You and I and the blue sea
And the dusk that vibrates in me
The strings of inspiration and agony,
Far away
Torn asunder from the land where blue shadows hold sway
We are forever doomed to this exile here.

Ahmet Hasim (1884-1933)
Translated by Talat Sait Halman