Sanat Mozaik

[Terraluna]

Irlandali yazar James Joyce’un (James Augustine Aloysius Joyce( olum yildonumu (13 Ocak 1941)

“Ben de onun gibiydim, ayni dusuk omuzlar, ayni oturup kalkmayi bilemeyen haller. Cocuklugum, iki buklum, yani basimda duruyor. Ona bir kerecik ya da hafifce dokunamayacagim kadar uzakta. Benim cocuklugum gozlerimiz kadar uzak, onun cocuklugu gozlerimiz kadar gizli. Sessiz sirlar, kalplerimizin icindeki karanlik saraylarda tas gibi kurulmus oturuyorlar: hukumranliklarından bikmis sirlar: tahttan indirilmek isteyen tiranlar.”



“Like him was I, these sloping shoulders, this gracelessness. My childhood bends beside me. Too far for me to lay a hand there once or lightly. Mine is far and his secret as our eyes. Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned.”


"Yapayalnizdi. Kimsenin dikkatini cekmiyordu, mutluydu, yasamin vahsi kalbine yaklasmisti. Yalnizdi, gencti, basina buyruk ve yabanil yurekliydi. Sert havanin issizligi, aci sular, denizden gelme kabuklar ve yosunlar ile perdelenmis kursuni gunisiginda bir basinaydi."James Joyce, Sanatcinin Bir Genc Adam Olarak Portresi



"He was alone. He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and wilful and wildhearted, alone amid a waste of wild air and brackish waters and the seaharvest of shells and tangle and veiled grey sunlight."�


Bir gun rastladikti aska
Calgi calarken biri alacakaranlikta,
Ve duruyordu yaninda biri korkuyla
Cunku askta en yeni olan seydir korku.
Yurekten severdik biz. Simdi gecmis bu ask
Bize sevincli saatler tattiran.
Neyse hos geldin simdi, her bir yalniz yolu
Dolanacagiz her birimiz kendince.



Love came to us in time gone by
When one at twilight shyly played
And one in fear was standing nigh
For love at first is all afraid.
We were grave lovers. Love is past
That had his sweet hours many a one.
Welcome to us now at the last
The ways that we shall go upon.

[Terraluna]

Amerikali kurgu yazari Lorrie Moore’un dogum gunu (13 Ocak 1957)

“Robin’in hastanede oluyor oldugu gece, birini bekliyordum, gelip beni alacakti –Robin’in bir zamanlar ciktigi bir adamdi bu, benim onunla cikmaya baslamamdan aylar evvel– ama gec kalmisti ve ben de onun Robin’i benimle birlikte gormesinin akillica olup olmadigini dusunuyordum. Robin’in meslektasi ZJ o sabah aramis ve demisti ki, “Durum kotu. Hastaneden taburcu oldugunda eve donuyor olmayacak.”

“Bu gece onu gormeye gidecegim,” dedim. Sozunun eri oldugumu dusunurdum ve soyledigim seyi yapardim. Belki sozunun eri olmaktan cok sihir gibi bir seydi bu.

“Iyi edersin,” dedi ZJ. Tiyatro bolumunun kursu baskaniydi ve ornek bir koca gibi isi o ustlenmişti, cunku bunu ondan Robin istemisti; ZJ’nin onun kaderine aglayip durmalari simdiden sona ermisti. Seksenlerde bir erkek arkadasini AIDS’e kurban vermisti, dolayisiyla, su son birkac ayki yasal ve tibbi karar mercii olma haline tumuyle o kadar asinayim ki, dedi, hissetmiyorum bile.”



The night Robin Ross was dying in the hospital, I was waiting for a man to come pick me up—a man she had once dated, months before I began to—and he was late and I was wondering whether his going to see her with me was even wise. Perhaps I should go alone. Our colleague ZJ had called that morning and said, “Things are bad. When she leaves the hospital, she’s not going home.”

“I’ll go see her tonight,” I said. I felt I was a person of my word, and by __saying something I would make it so. It was less like integrity, perhaps, and more like magic.

“That’s a good idea,” ZJ said. He was chairman of the theatre department and had taken charge, like a husband, since Robin had asked him to. His tearfulness about her fate had already diminished. In the eighties, he had lost a boyfriend to aids, and now all the legal and medical decision-making these last few months, he said, seemed numbly familiar.”

[Terraluna]

Grey's Anatomy’nin Dr. Derek Shepherd’i Amerikali aktor Patrick Dempsey’in dogum gunu (13 Ocak 1966)

[Terraluna]

The Beatles, 10. Albumu Yellow Submarine'i 13 Ocak 1969'da Apple Records araciligiyla Amerika'da piyasaya surdu.

[Terraluna]

Ingiliz aktor Orlando (Jonathan Blanchard) Bloom’un dogum gunu (13 Ocak 1977)

[Terraluna]

"Kisin kisa suren gunleri geldiginde, aksam karanligi da biz daha aksam yemegini bitirmeden cokerdi. Sokakta bulustugumuzda evler de karanlik oluyordu. Ustumuzdeki gokyuzu bosluğu her daim degisen menekse rengiydi, sokak lambalari kendi ciliz fenerlerini ona dogru kaydirmaktaydilar. Soguk hava yakiyordu, vucudumuz kizarana kadar oynuyorduk. Bagirismalarimiz sessiz sokakta yankilaniyordu. Oyunumuzun hiziyla evlerin arkasinda kulubelerden cikan vahsi kabilelerin saldırisina ugradigimiz karanlik ve camurlu patikalara daliyorduk, oradan cop kutularindan kotu kokularin yukseldigi karanlik sular damlayan bahcelere ve faytoncunun atini timarladigi ya da tokali kosumlardan muzik singirdattigi karanlik ve kokulu ahirlara geliyorduk. Sokaga geri dondugumuzde ise mutfaklardan suzulen isik tum alanı doldururdu. Eger enistemi koseden donerken gorursek onun eve girdigine emin olana kadar golgede saklanirdik. Yahut Mangan'in ablasi evin onune cikip kardesini caya cagirdiginda, gizlendigimiz golgeden sokakta bir asagi bir yukari gezinmesini seyrederdik. Kapi onunde duracak mi yoksa iceri mi girecek diye beklerdik; eger iceri girmeyip kapi onunde kalirsa o zaman gizlendigimiz golgeden cikip uysal uysal Manganlarin merdivenlerini cikardik. Bizi beklerdi, vucudu aralik kapidan suzulen isikla belirginlesirdi. Erkek kardesi onun dedigini yapmadan once ona satasirken, ben de parmakliklara yaslanip ona bakardim. Elbisesi vucudunu hareket ettirdikçe sallanirdi ve yumuşak, ip gibi orgulu saclari bir o yana bir bu yana savrulurdu.

Her sabah evin on salonundaki yere uzanir onun kapisini izlerdim. Gorunmeyeyim diye perdeyi de cercevenin sonunda bir iki santim kalana kadar cekmistim. Kapinin onune cikinca kalbim hop etmisti. Koridora kostum, kitaplarimi kaptim ve pesi sira yurumeye basladim. Kahverengi endamini gozumun ufkundan hic cikarmadim. Yollarimizin ayrildigi yere yaklastigimiz zaman adimlarimi hizlandirip onu gectim. Her sabah tekrarlanan bir seydi bu. Birkac gundelik sozun disinda onunla hic konusmamistim ama adi, deli dolu kanim icin bir cagri gibiydi."



"When the short days of winter came dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street. The career of our play brought us through the dark muddy lanes behind the houses where we ran the gauntlet of the rough tribes from the cottages, to the back doors of the dark dripping gardens where odours arose from the ashpits, to the dark odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music from the buckled harness. When we returned to the street light from the kitchen windows had filled the areas. If my uncle was seen turning the corner we hid in the shadow until we had seen him safely housed. Or if Mangan's sister came out on the doorstep to call her brother in to his tea we watched her from our shadow peer up and down the street. We waited to see whether she would remain or go in and, if she remained, we left our shadow and walked up to Mangan's steps resignedly. She was waiting for us, her figure defined by the light from the half-opened door. Her brother always teased her before he obeyed and I stood by the railings looking at her. Her dress swung as she moved her body and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side.

Every morning I lay on the floor in the front parlour watching her door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so that I could not be seen. When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped. I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her. I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her. This happened morning after morning. I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood."

[Terraluna]

“Kent dolusu insan gocup gidiyor, yine kent dolusu insan geliyor, onlar da gocuyor: her sey gelir, her sey geçer. Evler, ev dizileri, caddeler, kilometrelerce kaldirim, yiginlarinda tugla, taslar. El degistirirler. Bir sahip gider, baska sahip gelir. Efendi olmez, derler. Kimisi de, cik emri gelince, giyer ayakkabilarini cikar gider. Orayi baskalari satin alir altinla, ama yine de tum altinlari ellerinde tutarlar, dolandiriciliklarla, yalancilikla elde etmislerdi. Kentlere dolusmuslardi, caglar gectikce yikilip giden kentlere. Colde piramitler. Bunlarin yapim giderleri, yalnizca ekmekle sogan. Kolelerin yaptigi Cin Seddi. Babil. Kocaman taslardir geriye kalan. Dairesel kaleler. Moloz kalintilari, yikilmis varoslar. Derme catma kervansaraylari cimentoyla kul karisimindan yapilmis.”



“Cityful passing away, other cityful coming, passing away too: other coming on, passing on. Houses, lines of houses, streets, miles of pavements, piledup bricks, stones. Changing hands. This owner, that. Landlord never dies they say. Other steps into his shoes when he gets his notice to quit. They buy the place up with gold and still they have all the gold. Swindle in it somewhere. Piled up in cities, worn away age after age. Pyramids in sand. Built on bread and onions. Slaves Chinese wall. Babylon. Big stones left. Round towers. Rest rubble, sprawling suburbs, jerrybuilt. Kerwan's mushroom houses built of breeze.”

[Terraluna]

"Birilerini tartaklamaktan, seytana pabucunu ters giydirmekten, katakullilerden ve entrikalardan cok SIKILMISTI. Kasimda otuz bir yasinda olacakti. Hicbir zaman iyi bir is sahibi olamayacak miydi? Kendi yuvasi hic olmayacak miydi? Sicacik bir atesin yani basinda oturmanin ve guzel bir aksam yemegi yemenin ne kadar hos bir sey olacagini dusundu. Yeterince uzun zamandir, sehrin sokaklarini arkadaslarla ve kizlarla gezmisti. O arkadaslarin hicbir seye degmeyecegini biliyordu, kizlar da ayni sekilde. Tecrube dunyaya karsi kalbini taslastirmisti. Ama umut hala onu birakmamisti."



“He was tired of knocking about, of pulling the devil by the tail, of shifts and intrigues. He would be thirty-one in November. Would he never get a good job? Would he never have a home of his own? He thought how pleasant it would be to have a warm fire to sit by and a good dinner to sit down to. He had walked the streets long enough with friends and with girls. He knew what those friends were worth: he knew the girls too. Experience had embittered his heart against the world. But all hope had not left him. “