This article is based on this Dutch article of Martinus Benders:
https://martijnbenders.substack.com/p/twee-werken-van-can-yucel
TWO WORKS BY CAN YÜCEL
Friends Are Like Rivers
Friends are like rivers:
some have little water, others a lot.
With one, only your hands get wet,
with another, your soul is washed from head to toe.
There are people covered with water lilies,
like a murky lake… no matter how hard
you try, you can never see the bottom.
From afar, they seem attractive, deceptive,
but once you dive in, oh so treacherous…
You never know what awaits you;
you don’t dare come closer, you cannot trust them!
There are people like a deep ocean…
At first, frightening, intimidating.
Their secrets lie hidden in the depths,
the deeper you dive, the better you get to know them.
With them, you feel hollow inside.
There are people like a raging current…
getting too close can pull you under.
Their white foam offers no grip!
You never know where and when they will let you go;
with such people, you cannot build a life.
There are people like a gently babbling brook…
They bring peace, calm your heart.
Being with them is a happiness in itself.
In their sound and presence lies a soft tranquility.
There are people like a clear, sparkling sea.
No matter how much trust you give them, it is never wasted.
You see the bottom, everything is open and exposed.
You dive in without fear and are embraced completely.
What you see is what you get, nothing is hidden.
Every word is sincere, every action warm and honest…
There are people in all shapes and sizes,
each with their own character.
You must observe, explore, and find the right ones.
But above all, a person must first be a good person.
Can Yücel / Translation by Martinus Benders
*
The Least Pleasant Side of Life Is How It Ends…
Without a doubt, life would be much more beautiful, even perfect,
if we could live it in reverse.
How?
You wake up in a mosque.
You are lying in a wooden casket, everyone stands in rows before you,
praying for your well-being and forgiving you for everything.
You rise from the coffin, old, wise, and dignified.
Everyone surrounds you, honoring and praising you,
your children and grandchildren all present.
You get into your car and drive home.
As soon as you are born, the state grants you a pension,
you receive a fixed income monthly or quarterly.
How wonderful: a ready-made allowance, a home already waiting for you…
Until your sixties, you live worry-free and peacefully.
Your health improves,
your muscles grow stronger and more powerful.
One day, you decide to work.
On your first day at work, as a welcome gift,
your boss gives you a plaque and a gold watch.
You immediately start in a high position,
as an experienced leader, for example, as a general manager.
Everyone shows you respect, always at your service…
Your body undergoes some pleasant changes too.
You become slimmer, get in shape.
Your hormonal activity increases—
wonderful… what beautiful days arrive!
One day your boss says:
“Perhaps it’s time for you to study, that would be better.”
Suddenly, your father appears:
“You’ve worked enough,” he says,
“Come home, stop working, start studying,
I’ll give you an allowance…”
Look at this luxury!
The lessons become easier and easier.
An era of carefree living begins:
eating and drinking without effort.
Parties, discos,
the number of girls increases.
One day, your parents decide to pull you out of school:
“Stay home, enjoy yourself,
play with your toys.”
Your food is fed to you directly,
sometimes you are even changed.
After a while, you get so used to this
that you no longer even need a toilet.
Then your mother decides to breastfeed you,
and another delightful period begins.
Food is always ready,
everywhere, at any time,
fresh and warm.
One day, you end up in a dark, warm, and cozy place.
You don’t even have to open your mouth to eat;
you are nourished through an umbilical cord,
everything is warm, soft, and silent.
You become smaller,
smaller,
until you are a microscopic cell.
And then…
The most beautiful moment of all…
One night, your life ends in the most pleasurable way.
Can Yücel / Translation by Martinus Benders
Although there is doubt about whether Can Yücel truly wrote this work, Turkey abounds with poems attributed to him. This phenomenon seems almost like a protest movement of its own. Why would people anonymously fabricate a Yücel? I don’t know. Perhaps it’s that ever-present Turkish humor, a playful act of mystification. On the other hand, it could simply be a sincere tribute. And whoever wrote it, it is so good and so Yücel that, in the end, it no longer matters whether it was really his.
Above all, it demonstrates how much poetry still lives in Turkey, how it remains an integral part of the collective consciousness. In the Netherlands, it is unthinkable that hundreds of clandestine Marsman poems would circulate, invented and spread by anonymous enthusiasts. But is there a greater honor than people writing poems in your name, in your voice? Poems that resist the established order, that radically turn life upside down? Perhaps this is the highest form of literary survival: not through archives and anthologies, but through the clandestine, ongoing creation of the people themselves.
Martinus Benders, 20-03-2025