I am listening to Istanbul

Istanbul is a city that you love or hate, there is nothing noderate about her. She is like your extended lover. You either love her blindly and peacefully or you love her desperately and fight everyday. It is not easy to call yourself from Istanbul. It is not enough just to live there unless you smell her on a foggy morning coming out of magic censers. You must hear her on the morning boats, in old bazaar, in tea gardens of Uskudar. You have to sit on the cobbled pavings to have a rest after a long walk in Arnavutkoy.

Istanbul is hidden in small details and in the hearts of people really loves and cares Istanbul. Otherwise Istanbul is shy and fragile. She will not show you her pretty face like Aydos, Ayvat, Incegiz, Kaymakdonduran or Cilingoz. The only thing you can see will be a big, crowded and nerve killing metropol.

I know this very clearly because I am living it since my childhood. Since 1970s I am watching the slow and painfull death of the city and praying god to stop this. I hope one day he may see and correct.

I would like to give you two important Istanbul poems from two important poets. Their look and the way they tell about Istanbul is remarkable.

Enjoy your stay.

I AM LISTENING TO ISTANBUL

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed;
At first there blows a gentle breeze
And the leaves on the trees
Softly flutter or sway;
Out there, far away,
The bells of water carriers incessantly ring;
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed;
Then suddenly birds fly by,
Flocks of birds, high up, in a hue and cry
While nets are drawn in the fishing grounds
And a woman's feet begin to dabble in the water.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
The Grand Bazaar is serene and cool,
A hubbub at the hub of the market,
Mosque yards are brimful of pigeons,
At the docks while hammers bang and clang
Spring winds bear the smell of sweat;
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed;
Still giddy since bygone bacchanals,
A seaside mansion with dingy boathouses is fast asleep,
Amid the din and drone of southern winds, reposed,
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
Now a dainty girl walks by on the sidewalk:
Cusswords, tunes and songs, malapert remarks;
Something falls on the ground out of her hand,
It's a rose I guess.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed;
A bird flutters round your skirt;
I know your brow is moist with sweat
And your lips are wet.
A silver moon rises beyond the pine trees:
I can sense it all in your heart's throbbing.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.

wrote by Orhan Veli Kanik , a famous Turkish poet, on 1966

From Another Hill

O sanctified Istanbul I observed you from a hill
I did not see a place, never trailed never loved.
My heart's throne is yours to sit as long as I live
Just to adore one locality is a life's worth

Many shining cities can be seen in the world
Yet only you create enchanted beauties
Those truly lived I say the nicest and longest dream
Ones that lived many years, passed away and rests in you.

A poem by famous Turkish Poet and Statesman Yahya Kemal Beyatli (1884-1958)