The Poet Of Hope

I COME AND STAND BY EVERY DOOR -THE LITTLE GIRL

I come and stand at every door
but none can hear my silent tread.
I knock and yet remain unseen
for I am dead, for I am dead.
I’m only seven tho’ I died
in Hiroshima long ago.
I’m seven now as I was then
when children die they do not grow.
My hair was scorched by swirling flame,
my eyes grew dim, my eyes grew blind.
Death came and turned my bones to dust,
and that was scattered by the wind.
I need no fruit, I need no rice,
I need no sweets or even bread.
I ask for nothing for myself
for I am dead, for I am dead.
All that I ask is that for peace
you fight today, you fight today,
so that the children of the world
may live and grow and laugh and play.

He is chosen to serve on the World Peace Congress Council of Leaders. Now, he is able to make into reality his quest for peace that he has led through his works of poetry. He searches for the rights of the Japanese fisherman who is against the testing of the hydrogen bomb in the Bikini Atoll in the Pacific Ocean. He attends meetings of Asian and African writers. He will seek to outlaw the production, testing, and use of the atomic and hydrogen bombs. With bright minds like Albert Einstein, Pierre Jolliot-Curie, Bertrand Russel, Louis Aragon, Pablo Neruda, Pablo Picasso by his side in their opposition to war, in their efforts to create a world without war, he believed in true peace, lasting peace. He believed that it was possible to create a world where poverty and suffering is no more, equality and freedom is granted, where brotherhood is revered! As long as humanity believes in its own power!

He gave his own World Peace Price to another pacifist, who was a victom of cold war. His hands were in tremor when he was signing American actor Charlie Chaplin’s peace price.

He is a universal poet, the poet of all humanity, the poet of futur

Let’s fall asleep now
and wake up in a hundred years my beloved
NO
I am not a deserter….
Besides my century does not frighten me
My wretche century
Blushing from shame
My courageous century
Great and heroic
I have never grieved I was born too soon
I am from the twentieth century
And I am proud of it
To be where I am among our people is enough for me
And to fight for a new world
an a hundred years my beloved

Nazım, being a person who always cheers freedom and equality, and universal values can not find those in soviet land either. He is a poet, He is an artist. The unfair soviet system full of corruption makes him dislike it. He raises his voice against the system as he did in his own countr.

The Soviets ban his plays, they put him under close surveillance, and he is no longer welcome to his favorite party meetings

they tried to tear me away from my party
it didn ‘t work
nor was I crushed under the falling idols

says in his Autobiography poem. In the poem last bus he feels the death is near. Yet he does not feel vengeance towards anyone for anything

THE LAST BUS

Midnight. The last bus.
The conductor cuts the ticket.
Neither a bad news is waiting for me at home,
nor a feast ofraki.
For me, it’s departure that waits.
I walk towards it without fear
and sadness.

The great dark comes very near by me.
I can look at the world
calmly and at ease, now.
No longer surprises me a friend’s treachery,
a knife stabbed in a handshake.
It’s in vain, the enemy can’t provoke me now.
I passed through the forest of idols
using my axe
how easily they all came down.
I tested the things I believe in, once more,
most of them turned out pure, I’m thankful.
I had never shone so brilliantly,
never been so free.
The great dark comes very near by me.
I can look at the world
calmly and at ease, now.
I raise my head from my work to look around,
suddenly comes from the past
a word
a smell
the gesture of a hand.
The word is friendly,
the smell beautiful,
the hand is waved by my love.
The call of memory no longer makes me sad.
I have no complaints of memories.
I don’t complain of anything, in fact,
not even of my heart
aching nonstop like a big tooth.

The great dark comes very near by me.
Now neither the minister’s pride nor the clerk’s claptrap.
I’m pouring bowls of light over my head,
I can look at the sun without my eyes dazzling.
And perhaps, what a pity,
the most cunning lie
will no longer deceive me.
Words can’t make me drunk anymore,
neither anyone else’s, nor my own.

That’s how it is, my rose,

death now is awfully close to me.
The world, is more beautiful than ever, the world.
The world, was my underwear, my clothes,
I started undressing.
I was the window of a train,
now I’m a station.
I was the inside of the house,
now I’m its door unlocked.
I love the guests twice as much.
And the heat is yellower than ever
the snow purer than ever.