I Come and Stand by Every Door
Nâzım Hikmet Ran was a Turkish poet, playwright and novelist who was jailed several times by the Turkish government for his Communist beliefs. He produced some of the most beautiful political poetry that has ever been written. I’ve included a scene from Fazil Say’s fabulous Oratorio entitled Nazim. The poem that the girl sings was written by Hikmet in 1956.
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.
Wow, thank you for sharing this. I’m sure I will watch it over and again.
sheilamcmahon
July 4, 2009 at 4:15 am
While the sentiment is too worn and cloying to do any good, or so I have long felt about pleading for the children’s sakes to stop the destruction — I mean it’s abundantly clear they simply DO NOT care — that was a gorgeous, gorgeous little performance and it packs a wallop. Thanks.
99
July 4, 2009 at 8:20 am
Some Advice To Those Who Will Serve Time In Prison
If instead of being hanged by the neck
you’re thrown inside
for not giving up hope
in the world, your country, your people,
if you do ten or fifteen years
apart from the time you have left,
you won’t say,
“Better I had swung from the end of a rope
like a flag” –
You’ll put your foot down and live.
It may not be a pleasure exactly,
but it’s your solemn duty
to live one more day
to spite the enemy.
Part of you may live alone inside,
like a tone at the bottom of a well.
But the other part
must be so caught up
in the flurry of the world
that you shiver there inside
when outside, at forty days’ distance, a leaf moves.
To wait for letters inside,
to sing sad songs,
or to lie awake all night staring at the ceiling
is sweet but dangerous.
Look at your face from shave to shave,
forget your age,
watch out for lice
and for spring nights,
and always remember
to eat every last piece of bread–
also, don’t forget to laugh heartily.
And who knows,
the woman you love may stop loving you.
Don’t say it’s no big thing:
it’s like the snapping of a green branch
to the man inside.
To think of roses and gardens inside is bad,
to think of seas and mountains is good.
Read and write without rest,
and I also advise weaving
and making mirrors.
I mean, it’s not that you can’t pass
ten or fifteen years inside
and more –
you can,
as long as the jewel
on the left side of your chest doesn’t lose its lustre!
Nazim Hikmet
May 1949
qunfuz
July 4, 2009 at 12:11 pm
Have you heard This Mortal Coil’s version
RickB
July 4, 2009 at 3:06 pm
Thanks Rick..though I have to admit that I like Say’s version better. :)
Robin – thank you.
Jasmin Ramsey
July 4, 2009 at 10:10 pm
Really excellent, thanks Jasmin!
Dave
July 4, 2009 at 11:16 pm