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OF YOUR HANDS AND LIES
Grave like all stones,
sad like all song sang in prison,
clumsy, heavy like all beasts of burden,
and like hungry children's offended faces, your hands.
Skillful, light like bees,
full like milky breasts,
brave like nature,
and hiding their friendly touch under their rough skin,
your hands.
This world is not balanced on the bull's horn,
this world is balanced on your hands.
And human beings, alas, my human beings,
they feed you on lies,
but you're starving,
you need to be fed on meat, on bread.
And without eating fully even once at a white table,
you leave this world which has lots of fruits
on its every branch.
Human beings, alas, my human beings,
especially in Asia, in Africa,
Near East, Middle East, Pacific islands,
and my countrymen,
that is, more than seventy percent of all people,
you're old and absentminded like your hands,
you're curious, amazed and young like your hands.
Human beings, alas, my human beings,
my European, my American,
you're smart, bold and forgetful like your hands,
like your hands you're quick to persuade,
easy to get rid of...
Human beings, alas, my human beings,
if the antennas lie,
if the rotatives lie,
if books lie,
if the poster on the wall and the advertisement in the column lie,
if the naked calves of girls on the screen lie,
if prayers lie,
if lullabies lie,
if dreams lie,
if the fiddler at the tavern lies,
if moonlight on the nights of hopeless days lies,
if words lie,
if colours lie,
if voices lie,
if living on your hands
everything but your hands
and everybody lie,
it's to make your hands obedient like clay,
blind like darkness,
stupid like sheepdogs,
so that your hands won't rebel,
and so that in this mortal, in this livable world
where we are guests for such a short period
this merchants' sultanate, this tyranny won't end..
[1949]
tr. by Fuat Engin