Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Selahattin Yolgiden

Everyone’s god is inside himself

the face is the soul of the body* mr. antoine
and that is why we gaze upon each other
and that is why our eyes are located in our faces

give no credence to anyone
who says time heals all wounds
for in the houses lit by night lamps,
on the deserted shores of winter,
but inside, mostly deep inside
we murdered time
and whatever is dead can be no cure

we forgot and we remembered again
from lies we built ourselves shrines
then believed in their divinity
everyone’s prophet is himself
everyone’s god is inside himself

everyone’s self is only for himself…

*Wittgenstein

Herkesin Tanrısı Kendi İçinde

Herkesin Tanrısı Kendi İçinde

yüz bedenin ruhudur* bay antuan
o yüzden böyle uzun uzun bakıyoruz birbirimize
o yüzden gözlerimiz yüzümüzde

zaman her şeyin ilacıdır
diyen hiç kimseye inanmayın
çünkü gece lambaları yanan evlerde,
kış'ın boş sahillerinde,
içeride en çok, ta içeride
öldürmüştük zamanı
ve ölüden ilaç olmaz hiç kimseye

unuttuk ve hatırladık tekrar
kendimize yalandan mabetler kurduk
ve inandık kutsallıklarına
bay antuan, anlasanıza
herkesin peygamberi kendisidir
herkesin tanrısı kendi içinde

herkesin kendisi, sadece kendisine...

*Wittgenstein
Close

Everyone’s god is inside himself

the face is the soul of the body* mr. antoine
and that is why we gaze upon each other
and that is why our eyes are located in our faces

give no credence to anyone
who says time heals all wounds
for in the houses lit by night lamps,
on the deserted shores of winter,
but inside, mostly deep inside
we murdered time
and whatever is dead can be no cure

we forgot and we remembered again
from lies we built ourselves shrines
then believed in their divinity
everyone’s prophet is himself
everyone’s god is inside himself

everyone’s self is only for himself…

*Wittgenstein

Everyone’s god is inside himself

the face is the soul of the body* mr. antoine
and that is why we gaze upon each other
and that is why our eyes are located in our faces

give no credence to anyone
who says time heals all wounds
for in the houses lit by night lamps,
on the deserted shores of winter,
but inside, mostly deep inside
we murdered time
and whatever is dead can be no cure

we forgot and we remembered again
from lies we built ourselves shrines
then believed in their divinity
everyone’s prophet is himself
everyone’s god is inside himself

everyone’s self is only for himself…

*Wittgenstein
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
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