Текст и перевод песни Ruhi Su - Kadınlarımız

Kadınlarımız

Ayýn altýnda kaðnýlar gidiyordu.
Kaðnýlar gidiyordu Akþehir üstünden Afyon′a doðru.
Toprak öyle bitip tükenmez.
Daðlar öyle uzakta,
Sanki gidenler hiçbir zaman
Hiçbir menzile eriþmeyecekti.
Kaðnýlar yürüyordu yekpare meþeden tekerlekleriyle.
Ve onlar
Ayýn altýnda dönen ilk tekerlekti.
Ayýn altýnda öküzler
Baþka ve çok küçük bir dünyadan gelmiþler gibi
Ufacýk, kýsacýktýlar
Ve pýrýltýlar vardý hasta, kýrýk boynuzlarýnda
Ve ayaklarý altýnda akan
Toprak
Toprak
Ve
Topraktý
Gece aydýnlýk ve sýcak
Ve kaðnýlarda tahta yataklarýnda
Koyu mavi humbaralar çýrýlçýplaktý.
Ve kadýnlar
Birbirlerinden gizleyerek
Bakýyorlardý ayýn altýnda
Geçmiþ kafilelerden kalan öküz ve tekerlek ölülerine.
Ve kadýnlar
Bizim kadýnlarýmýz:
Korkunç ve mübarek elleri,
Ince, küçük çeneleri, kocaman gözleriyle
Anamýz, avradýmýz, yarimiz
Ve sanki hiç yaþamamýþ gibi ölen
Ve soframýzdaki yeri öküzümüzden sonra gelen
Ve daðlara kaçýrýp uðrunda hapis yattýðýmýz
Ve ekinde, tütünde, odunda ve pazardaki
Ve karasabana koþulan
Ve aðýllarda
Ýþýltýsýnda yere saplý býçaklarýn
Oynak, aðýr kalçalarý ve zilleriyle bizim olan
Kadýnlar
Bizim kadýnlarýmýz
Þimdi ayýn altýnda
Kaðnýlarýn ve hartuçlarýn peþinde
Harman yerine kehribar baþaklý sap çeker gibi
Ayný yürek ferahlýðý,
Ayný yorgun alýþkanlýk içindeydiler.
Ve on beþlik þarapnelin çeliðinde
Ince boyunlu çocuklar oynuyordu.
Ve ayýn altýnda kaðnýlar
Yürüyordu Akþehir üstünden Afyon'a doðru
Nazým Hikmet

Our Women

Our women were walking in the moonlight.
Our women were walking from Aksehir to Afyon.
The land is so vast and endless.
The mountains are so far away,
It seemed as if those who were leaving
Would never reach any destination.
Our women were walking with their wheels made of solid oak.
And they
Were the first wheels turning under the moon.
The oxen in the moonlight
Looked as if they had come from another world,
They were so tiny and so short
And there was a gleam in their sick, broken horns
And the earth flowing beneath their feet
Earth
Earth
And
Earth
The night was bright and warm
And in their wooden beds our women
Were naked as the dark blue gourds.
And the women
Hiding them from each other
Were gazing in the moonlight
At the dead oxen and wheels left behind by past caravans
And the women
Our women:
With their terrible and blessed hands,
Their thin, small jaws and big eyes,
Our mothers, our wives, our sweethearts
And those who died as if they had never lived
And those whose place at our table came after our oxen
And those we carried away to the mountains and went to prison for
And those in the fields, in the tobacco, in the firewood and in the marketplace
And those harnessed to the plough
And those in the barns
Those in the gleam of knives stuck in the ground
Those with their playful, heavy hips and their bells, they were ours
The women
Our women
Now in the moonlight
Following the women and the carts
Dragging the amber-headed stalks to the threshing floor
With the same joy in their hearts,
With the same weary routine.
And in the steel of the fifteen-pound shrapnel
Children with thin necks were playing.
And in the moonlight our women
Were walking from Aksehir to Afyon
Nazım Hikmet