İnsan Aklının İlk İşaretleri: Burçlar, Kitabeler
by Bejan Matur
Surların yüzeyinde sadece harfler olsaydı eksik kalırdı.
Yeryüzünün o erken konuklarının çocuksu aklını, çocuksu geometrilerden
ve hayvanların, bitkilerin neşesinden kurtarmak ne mümkün.
Binyıllardır şehri sarmalayan burçların üzerinde insan aklının ilk işaretleri,
harflerin ve hayvanların kardeşliği, neşesi.
Harfler harf olmanın sınırında birer varlık olurken, hayvanlar insanın
çocukluğunda konaklar gibi bir neşeyi sürdürmekte.
Bugün hangi burca baksanız kitabelere eşlik eden kaplanlar, kartallar, kediler,
kuşlar bir ormanı yaşar gibi yaprak ve sarmaşıklarla bezelidir.
Dünyayı görmekle büyülenen bir aklın çocuksu neşesi ve formu Surların
heybetini eksiltmez.
Burçların içinde bin yıllardır oyalanan harfler ve kediler,
Diyarbakır’ı öyle bir haleyle donatır ki, taşın soğukluğu, yürekle dolar.
TRANSLATIONS
First marks of human wit: ramparts, inscriptions
If these rock wall faces bore letters alone, something would be amiss.
No way to rescue those early guests of the earth, those ingenuous minds,
from their infant geometry, from the mirth of plant and beast.
These first marks of human wit, this siblings’ bliss of creature and scripture,
On ramparts that wrap up the city in chiliads—
Once, when the letters were just on the brink of being letters, of getting their one
existence a piece,
it was the beasts who, like lodgers in human childhood, kept the mirth light.
Look, today, at whichever rampart you want: the tigers, eagles, cats, the birds
out escorting their legends, dressed in leaf and ivy, as if inspiriting a new forest.
Even this child’s wit, its cheer and form—so charmed, just from laying eyes on the
world—
Failed to undo the wall’s gravity.
So ably has Diyarbakir been attended—by the cats and letters
loitering out on its ramparts, for each of thousands of years—
that the cold stone now swells with their courage.
Translated by David Gramling
First signs of human wisdom: constellations, inscriptions
If there had only been letters on the surface of the city walls, they would have been
incomplete.
Impossible to rescue the childlike wisdom of the earth’s early sojourners from
their childlike geometry, and the joy of plants and animals.
On wall towers that have enveloped the city for thousands of years—the first signs of
human wisdom, the brotherhood and joy of letters and animals.
When the letters were each on the verge of existence, animals were pursuing happiness
like guests in human childhood.
Today whichever tower you look at, inscriptions are accompanided by tigers, eagles,
cats, birds—
decorated in ivy and leaves like a living forest.
The childlike joy and form of an enchanted mind upon seeing the world,
will never diminish the majesty of the city walls.
Letters and cats, lingering in constellation for thousands of years,
ornament Diyarbakır with such aura, that the coldness of stone fills with heart.
Translated by Kristin Dickinson