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19.Yuzyilin uretken ve populer Amerikali yazari James Fenimore Cooper'in dogum yil donumu (15 Eylul 1789)
"Mohikanlar, kitanin ilk kez Avrupalilarca isgal edilen bolumunun yerlileriydi. Dogal olarak vatanlarindan ilk kovulanlar oldular. Gorunuse bakilirsa, ulke kalkinmadan veya diger bir deyisle medeniyet gelip de yemyesil ormanlar kesilmeden once yok olan bu insanlarin kaderinin, kacinilmaz oldugu savunulur. Ayrica bunu kanitlayacak yeterli tarihi kanit mevcuttur." Son Mohikan
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"The Mohicans were the possessors of the country fýrst occupied by the Europeans in this portion of the continent. They were, consequently, the fýrst dispossessed; and the seemingly inevitable fate of ali these people, who disappear before the advances, or it might be termed the inroads, of civilization, as the verdure of their native forests falls before the nipping frosts, is represented as having already befallen them. There is suffýcient historical truth in the picture to justify the use that has been made of it."
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Ingiliz sairler Samuel Taylor Coleridge ve William Wordsworth, Ingiliz Romantik hareketi olarak Lyrical Ballads'i (Lirik Baladlar) 15 Eylul 1795 tarihinde yayinladilar.
Su, su nereye baksan yalnizca su,
Guverte tahtalari cekti zamanla
Su su nereye baksan yalnizca su,
Ama hic bir yerde yok icecek bir damla
Ve inanýlmaz bir sey oldu, Tanrim
Denizin ta kendisi curudu.
Ve sumuk gibi olmus sularda
Sumuklu yaratýklar surunup yurudu
Kaykilip yatarak, dogrulup kalkarak;
Dansetti gece olum atesleri
Ve mavi, yesil, beyaz yandi sular
Kaynayan bir cadi kazani gibi.
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Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.
About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.
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Jamaikali yazar ve sair Claude McKay'in dogum yildonumu (15 Eylul 1889)
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Haziran geldigi zaman ustunde dansederek Mayidin olumunun,
Kipkirmizi gullerle onun yesil gogsune renk katan,
Ve onun gununu ciftlesen ardiclarla baslatan,
Ve Yeryuzuyle birlikte, parmak uclarinda yuruyen onun altin konugu icin,
Her zaman tanistigimiz aksami gorurum
Haziranin birinin ciliz yagmurun altinda isim koydugu gunť
Ve nasil eve yurumustuk genis caddelerin icinden, isik yayarak, islak,
Kollar kilitlenmis, sicak etlerimiz askin acisiyla nabiz gibi atarak.
Guler yuzlu kucuk odayi gorurum her zaman,
Ve kosede, taptaze ve beyaz, yatak,
Hafif bir parfumle tatli kokan,
Icinde evlendigimiz yalniz bir tek gece icin;
Icinde yildizlarla aydinlanmis dinginlikte dilsiz yattigimiz,
Ve sabaha kadar fisildayan saganaklari duydugumuz,
Ve senin yanan kahverengi vucudunun bir kopuz oldugu
Atesli sarkisini uzerinde caldigim hirsimin.
Haziran geldigi zaman dans ederek ustunde Mayisin olumunun,
Kipkirmizi gullerle onun acik tenli ayaklarini koyulastiran,
Ayrilir gider ruhum sarkisini soylemek icin butun gun
Bir askin o kadar derbeder ve o kadar butun.
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Polisiye edebiyatin en onemli isimlerinden Ingiliz yazar (Agatha Mary Clarissa Miller Christie Mollowan) Agatha Christie'nin dogum yildonumu (15 Eylul 1890)
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"Yargic Wargrave birinci mevki kompartimaninda purosunu tutturerek The Times gazetesinin politika haberlerini dikkatle okuduktan sonra gazeteyi birakýp camdan disari bakti. Somerset'den geciyorlardi. Daha iki saatlik yollari vardi. Zenci adasi hakkinda simdiye kadar gazetelerde okuduklarini dusunmeye basladi. Adanin deniz ve yat meraklisi bir Amerikali milyoner tarafindan satin alindigini, Devon sahillerine yakin olan adaya modern ve luks bir kosk yapildigini biliyordu; ama, anlasildigina gore, Amerikali milyonerin yeni evlendigi ucuncu karisi denizi sevmiyordu ve adayi satisa cikarmisti. Satis icin gazetelerde bircok ilan cikmisti. Sonunda adanin Owen adinda biri tarafindan satin alindigi duyulmustu. Bu haberden sonra gazetelerin dedikodu yazilarinin fisildasmalari baslamisti. Zenci adasi aslinda Gabrielle Turl adinda Hollywood'lu bir film yildizi tarafindan satin alinmisti. Yildizin bu adada kimse tarafindan rahatsiz edilmeden birkac ay gecirmeyi dusundugu ileri surulmekteydi. Baska bir yazar ise, Zenci Adasinin bazi gizli deneyler icin Ingiliz Amirallik Dairesi tarafindan satin alinmis oldugunu iddia ediyordu..." On Kucuk Zenci
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"In the corner of a first-class smoking carriage, Mr. Justice Wargrave, lately retired from the bench, puffed at a cigar and ran an interested eye through the political news in the Times.He laid the paper down and glanced out of the window. They were running now through Somerset. He glanced at his watch - another two hours to go.He went over in his mind all that had appeared in the papers about Indian Island. There had been its original purchase by an American millionaire who was crazy about yachting - and an account of the luxurious modern house he had built on this little island off the Devon coast. The unfortunate fact that the new third wife of the American millionaire was a bad sailor had led to the subsequentputting up of the house and island for sale. Various glowing advertisements of it had appeared in the papers. Then came the first bald statement that it had been bought - by a Mr. Owen. After that the rumours of the gossip writers had started. Indian Island had really been bought by Miss Gabrielle Turl, the Hollywood filmstar! She wanted to spend some months there free from all publicity! Jones knew for a fact that it had been purchased by the Admiralty with a view to carrying out some very hush hush experiments!..."
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Rus yazar Ivan Aleksandrovic Goncarov’un olum yildonumu (15 Eylul 1891)
“Kis, yanina yaklasilmaz, soguk bir guzel kadin gibi huyunu hic degistirmeden sicaklarin gelecegi belli gunlere kadar uzar; ne umulmadik gunesli havalarla insanlari sasirtir, ne de gorulmemis soguklarla bellerini buker.”
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“Winter, like a cold, unapproachable beauty, retains her character until the lawful season of thaw has arrived. Never does she mock one with unexpected softenings of the air; never does she triple-harness the earth with unheard-of degrees of frost.”
“Mesela deniz. Tanri eksik etmesin ama bizden uzak olsun daha iyi. Insana huzun vermekten baska seye yaramaz. Baktikca aglayacaginiz gelir. Bu ucsuz bucaksiz su kitlesi onunde ruh ezilip buzulur. Hic degismeden, alabildigine uzayip giden bu guzel manzarada yorulan goz, dinlenecek bir yer bulamaz.”
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“The sea, for example? Never mind about that! It brings man only sorrow; looking at it makes him feel like crying. The heart is flummoxed in the face of the boundless shroud of waters, and there is nothing upon which to rest one’s gaze, tormented as it is by the vast scene’s monotony.”
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Isvecli sair Gunnar Ekelof’un dogum yildonumu (15 Eylul 1907)
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Bir dunyadir her insan
Onlara hukmeden kralin zatina karsi yurutulen
kasvetli bir isyandaki
kor yaratiklarla donanmis bir dunyadir her insan.
Her bir ruhta binlerce ruh hapsolmus,
her bir dunyada binlerce dunya gizli
ve bu kor, bu alttaki dunyalar
gercek ve canlidirlar, tamamlanmamis olsalar bile
benim gercek oldugum kadar gercektirler. Ve biz
icimizdeki binlerce olasiligin krallari ve kontlari
tebaaya mensubuz gene de, hapsedilmis ruhlariz
daha buyuk bir yaratikta, ki O’nun benligiyle varligi
ustamizi anladigimiz kadar az anliyor ustasini.
Onlarýn olumunden ve sevdasindan
oturudur bizim duygularimizin bir renk tonu almasi.
Gecer gibi bir buyuk vapur
otede, ufkun altinda, durur orada
aksam isiltisi gibi. – Ve orada oldugunu
sahilde bize bir dalga ulasmadan once bilmiyoruz daha,
once bir dalga, sonra bir tane daha ve niceleri daha
carpar ve cagildar her sey yeniden
ayni olana dek. – Gene de farklidir her sey.
Insanlar gitti, bazi olasiliklar serbest kaldi
dediginde bize bir sey,
iste boyle kavrar garip bir huzurluk biz golgeleri.
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Everyone is a world, peopled
by blind beings in dark commotion
against the self the king who rules them.
In every soul thousands of souls are trapped,
in every world thousands of worlds are hidden
and these blind, these underworlds
are real and living, though incomplete,
as true as I am real. And we kings
and princes of the thousand possibilities in us
are ourselves servants, trapped
in some greater creature, whose self and being
we grasp as little as our own superior
his superior. Our own feelings have taken
the color of their love and death.
As when a mighty steamship passes
far out, under the horizon, lying
in the evening glitter- - And we don’t know about it
until the swell reaches us on the shore,
first one, then another, and then many
which strike and boom until everything has become
as before. – Yet everything is different.
So we shades are troubled by a strange unease
When something tells us that others have gone ahead,
That some of the possibilities have been released.
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Turk roman ve oyun yazari Orhan Kemal’in (Mehmet Rasit Ogutcu) dogum yildonumu (15 Eylul 1914)
Firladik. Sora sora Alisfeneri'ni bulduk. Tutun depolarini teker teker dolastik. Ogleye dogru, eli yuzu, ustubasi kir pas icinde Necip, karsimizdaydi. Aci aci tutun kokuyordu. Gozlerine inanamiyordu. Beni býrakip Gazi'ye, Gazi'yi býrakip bana sariliyordu. Sonra gitti, depodan izin aldi. Calistigi deponun yanindaki bir lokantaya bizi soktu, evvela karinlarimizi doyurmamizi soyledi. ‘Ben’, dedi, ‘depoya kadar gidecegim. Beni su bitisikteki kahvede bekleyin, soylerim, para filan vermeyin!’ Gazi masaya cokmustu bile: ‘Dikilme lan’, dedi; ‘otur da yumulalim!’ Catalini tabaga vurdu. ‘Biraz kisa gecelim’ dedim, cunku...’ Karisma. Acliktan habibim sasiyor benim. Garson, kardas, bak hele be... Ulan amma da mostra garsonlar be.. Lan bak hele, garson!’ Garson geldi. ‘Bana,’ dedi, ‘evvela zeytinyagli dolma.. Yahut bosver zeytinyagliya. Sadeyagli olsun, amma, irisini secsin ustan ha!’ Garson gulerek cekildi. ‘Ne bakiyorsun,’ dedi, ‘bir haftalýk yiyecegim. Sana ne? Fakat ne bildi Necip ac oldugumuzu? Benizlerimiz mi donmus acaba? Fakat arkadas boyle olur. Herif bir bakista nevrimizin dondugunu anladi, aferin!’ Garson onun dolmalarini getirmisti. ‘Bana’, dedim, ‘bir corba’. Necip paydosta geldi. Sokagi dolduran tutun iscilerinin gurultulu kalabaligi onumuzden geciyordu. Onlarin kirli, pasli, fakat her seye ragmen neseli kalabaligi icinde olmayi cok isterdim. Necip, boyuna soruyor, guluyor, seviniyordu. ‘Maclara gideriz, oyle maclar oluyor ki. Hangi kulube gireceksiniz? Fenerbahce'ye girin bence. Cunku Fenerbahce...’ Arada Gazi'yle bakisip usullacik guluyorduk. Kimbilir kacinci kahvelerimizi ictikten sonra: ‘Hangi otelde kaliyorsunuz? diye sordu. ‘Oteliniz temiz mi bari? Gazi bana goz kirpti: ‘Temiz,’ dedi. ‘Bu gece bizde kalirsiniz. Haydi gidelim…” Avare Yillar
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“Off we went. We eventually found the docks and walked around all the tobacco warehouses there. And, sure enough, by lunchtime, there was Nejip, standing in front of us, covered in a filthy brown layer of muck. He stank of tobacco. He could not believe his eyes. He hugged me, hugged Gazi, then hugged me again. Then he went inside a warehouse and asked for a short break. He shoved us into the restaurant next door and told us to have ourselves a good meal.‘I’ve got to get back now,’ he said, ‘but when you’re finished here you can wait for me at the café. I’ll have a word, so don’t you pay for anything! ’Gazi had already sat down. ‘Don’t just stand there,’ he said to me. ‘Sit down, and let’s tuck in!’ He impatiently tapped his fork on his plate.‘Let’s not get too carried away,’ I warned, ‘because…’‘Leave me alone. I’m so hungry I can’t see straight. Waiter, excuse me, over here…. These waiters are a bit dozy… Hey, waiter, over here’The waiter came over. ‘First,’ said Gazi, ‘bring me some cold dolma… Or, no, wait. I’ll have hot dolma, but make sure the chef gives me some big ones!’ The waiter chuckled as he went off.‘What are you staring at?’ Gazi asked me. ‘I’m going to eat a week’s worth. What’s it to you? But how did Nejip know we were hungry? Do we look that starved, I wonder? That’s what you call a friend. One look at us,and he could tell we were hungry. Good on him!’ The waiter brought his dolma. ‘I’ll have a bowl of soup, please,’ I said. Nejip came over much later when his shift was done. The streets were full of tobacco workers and their hubbub. I would love to have been one of their rusty-brown, dirty but none the less cheerful crowd. Nejip kept asking us questions, laughing and being happy. ‘We can go and see some games. You wouldn’t believe some of the matches they have. Which club are you going to go to? I’d say you should get yourselves into Fenerbahçe. You see Fenerbahçe…’ Gazi and I exchanged glances and smiled to ourselves. ‘So which hotel are you staying in?’ Nejip asked, after we’d had God knows how many coffees. ‘Is it a nice, clean place?’ Gazi winked at me. ‘Very clean,’ he said. ‘Well, you can stay with me for tonight anyway. Come on then…”
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