Sanat Mozaik

Italyan ressam Antonio Cavallucci'nin dogum yildonumu (21 Agustos 1752)

Maddalena penitente (The Penitent Magdalene, 1787)

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19. yuzyilin onemli Fransiz tarihcisi Jules Michelet’nin dogum yildonumu (21 Agustos 1798)

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“Her insan evrensel bir insanlik tarihidir.”



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“Tarz sadece ruhun hareketidir.”

Alman sair ve botanikci Adelbert von Chamisso’nun olum yildonumu (21 Agustos 1838)

"Fakat sen, sevgili dostum, sayet insanlarin arasında yasamak istiyorsan, her seyden once golgeye saygi gostermesini ogren, para sonra gelir. Yalnizca kendini ve icindeki iyiligi dinleyerek yasamak istiyorsan, o halde nasihate ihtiyacin yok demektir."

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“Du aber, mein Freund, willst Du unter den Menschen leben, so lerne verehren zuvörderst den Schatten, sodann das Geld. Willst Du nur Dir und Deinem bessern Selbst leben, o so brauchst Du keinen Rat.”


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“But thou, my friend, if thou wilt live among men, learn before all things to reverence the shadow, and then gold. Wishest thou to live only for thyself and for thy better self — oh, then — thou needest no counsel.”

Ulusal edebiyatta, disavurumcu hareketin onderlerinden Rus Oyun ve kisa hikaye yazari Leonid Nikolayevic Andreyev’in dogum yildonumu (21 Agustos 1871)

“Belki hayatinda ilk defa kapi gicirdamasina benzeyen budala, manasiz ama cok neseli bir kahkaha atti. Tipki bir kazin bagirtisi gibi: ‘Ga-ga-ga!’ Gardiyan ona hayretle bakti, sonra kaslarını catti. Asilacak olan adamin bu budalaca nesesi hapishaneye idama bile bir hakaretti. Idami da hapishaneyi de acayip, laubali bir hale sokuyordu. Ve durup dururken kisacik bir an icin, hapishane nizamlarini doga kanunlari yerine koyan ihtiyar gardiyana, hapishanede gecirdigi butun omru bir timarhane gibi geldi. Kendisi de deliler arasinda en azgin deliymis gibi oldu.”

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“And perhaps for the first time in his life he laughed, a hoarse, absurd, yet gay and joyous laughter. It sounded like the cackling of a goose, ‘Ga-ga-ga!’ The warden looked at him in astonishment, then knit his brow sternly. This strange gayety of a man who was to be executed was an offence to the prison, as well as to the very executioner; it made them appear absurd. And suddenly, for the briefest instant, it appeared to the old warden, who had passed all his life in the prison, and who looked upon its laws as the laws of nature, that the prison and all the life within it was something like an insane asylum, in which he, the warden, was the chief lunatic.”



“Ayaga firladi ve tam bir saat soluk almadan ana avrat sovdu, kufurler savurdu.

Yuzu tebesir gibi bembeyaz olmus nobetci er, bunalip korkudan aglayarak tufegin namlusu ile kapiyi durtuyor, ne yapacagini sasirarak ikide bir bagiriyordu:

‘Vuracagim! Vallahi de vuracagim, billahi de vuracagim! Duyuyon mu?’

Ama ates etmiyordu, edemezdi de. Hapishanede isyan cikmadikca idama mahkum edilmis olanlara ates etmek yasakti. Cingene ise dislerini gicirdatiyor, kufur ediyor, tukuruyordu. Insan beyni olum ile dirim arasindaki anlatilamayacak kesinlikte bir sinirda olmasina dayanamiyor ve ruzgarin kuruttugu bir kil topragi gibi bin parca oluyordu.”

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“Then he would jump up and for a whole hour would curse continually. He cursed picturesquely, shouting and rolling his blood-shot eyes.’If you hang me-hang me!’ and he would burst out cursing again.

And the sentinel, in the meantime white as chalk, weeping with painand fright, would knock at the door with the butt-end of the gun andcry helplessly:

‘I’ll fire! I’ll kill you as sure as I live! Do you hear?’

But he dared not shoot. If there was no actual rebellion they neverfired at those who had been condemned to death. And Tsiganok would gnash his teeth, would curse and spit. His brain thus racked on a monstrously sharp blade between life and death was falling to pieceslike a lump of dry clay.

Italyan ressam Giuseppe Gaetano De Nittis'in olum yildonumu (21 Agustos 1884)

Colazione in giardino (Breakfast in the garden,1883-84)

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Hesap makinesini icat eden William Seward Burroughs, makinenin patentini 21 Agustos 1888'de aldi.

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Pembe Panter ve Bugs Bunny'nin yaraticisi Amerikali karikaturcu ve animasyon ustasi Friz Freleng’in dogum yildonumu (21 Agustos 1905)

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Turk modernist sair Can Yucel'in dogum yildonumu (21 Agustos 1926)

Akdeniz yarasiyor sana
Yildizlar terler ya sen de terliyorsun
Ayni islak pirilti burun kanatlarinda
Hic dinmiyor motorların gurultusu
Kopekler havliyor uzaktan
Demin cocuk agladi
Fatmanim cumbadan carsaf silkiyor yine
Ali dumdum anasina sovuyor saatlerdir
Denizi tokmakliyor balikcilar
Bu sesler iste sessizligini buyuten toprak
O sesinin sardunyalar gibi konuskan sessizligi
Hayatta yattik dun gece
Ustumuzde meltem
Kekik kokuyor ellerim hala
Senle yatmadim sanki
Daglari dolastim
Ben senden ogrendim deniz yazmayi
Elimden dusmuyor mavi kalem
Bir tirandil cikar gibi sefere
Okula gidiyor ogretmenim
Ben de ardindan aciliyorum
Bir poyraz cizip deftere
Bir ada var sirf ebabil
Donuyor donuyor basimda
Senle yasadigiım gunler
Gumus bir cevre oldu omrum
Degince gunesine
Neden sonra buldum o kacakci magarasini
Gozlerim kamasinca senden
Olum belki sularindan kacirdigim
O los suda yıkanmaktir
Durdukca yosundan yesil
Kulac attikca mavi
Ben duzde sanirdim yikintim
Orenim alkolik asarim
Mutun dorugundaymisim meger
Senle ciikinca anladim
Eski Yunan atlari var hani
Yeleleri bukumlu
Gun inerken de oyle
Agactan izdusumleriyle
Yuruyor Balan tepeleri
Yuruyor boluk boluk can
Toplu bir guzellige dogru
Kadinim Yarasiyorsun sen Akdenize

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The Mediterranean is in harmony with you
The stars sweat and you are sweating too
The same wet sparkle is on your nostrils
The noise of the motor boats does not stop
The dogs bark in the distance
A moment ago a child cried
A sheet is being shaken out from Fatma's window
Ali Dumdum is swearing for hours on end
The fishermen beat the sea
These sounds are like the earth swelling the silence
It is the silence garrulous of your geraniums
We lay on the veranda last night
the offshore summer breeze above us
My hands still smell of thyme
It was as though I didn't sleep with you
but was wandering the mountains
I learned from you how to write of the sea
The blue pencil is always in my hand
Like a fishing boat goes out on a trip
my teacher wife goes to school
I open out behind her
tracing a north wind in my exercise book
There is an island that is just shearwaters
it turns and turns in my head
The days I've lived with you
became a silver circle
when your sun touched my life
I found at last that smugglers' cave
as you dazzled my eyes open
Death is perhaps like washing
in those dark waters stolen from you,
greener than seaweed when still,
but blue after blue soaring with every fathom
I thought my losses, my débris, my alcoholic works
all belonged to this flat world
How was I to know I was on the peak of my happiness
I understood when I went out with you
You know those ancient Greek horses
with their curly manes
the trees with their projections are like them
when the day turns to evening
The Balan Peaks march
companies of souls march
towards the wholeness of beauty
My woman
you are in harmony with the Mediterranean