Prof. Dr. Hasan Erkek (Turkey)

Prof. Dr. Hasan Erkek (Turkey)
 
Prof. Dr. Hasan Erkek, a poet, a playwright and a professor of drama. He has been awarded more than 20 prizes. He published 25 artistic and scientific books in 13 different countries (Turkey, France, Spain, Germany, Russia, Croatia, Armenia, Georgia, Bulgaria, Romania, Albania, Azerbaijan, Hong Kong).
 
His works in his academic career have focused on the art of drama. His plays were performed by more than 40 theatres from different countries, including primarily Turkish national theatres. Furthermore, he wrote radio plays (approximately 20 radio plays were broadcast by national radios in Turkey) and film scripts (some of them were filmed).
 
One of his specialization fields is theatre for children and young people. Hasan Erkek took part and presented papers in many international theatre festivals and symposiums. He has more than a hundred articles published in various journals and newspapers.
 
He has been giving play reading, dramaturgy, dramatization, creative writing, drama techniques and contemporary theatre courses in various departments of universities.
 
Hasan Erkek has worked as an Executive Board Member and Vice-president in ASSITEJ Turkey, and the president of Turkish Playwrights and Play Translators Association as well as the Head of the Department of Performing Arts at Anadolu University.
 
 
NIGHT TRAIN
 
I
Train,
a dagger plunged into the heart of the night
penetrates its pitch-black flesh
 
Train,
a snake glittering in the moonlight
embraces its path in endless longing
 
Train,
a ceaseless song, gliding down the rails
reciting the tunnels by heart, carved rhythmically into steel memory
Train,
sprinkling its tranquil sorrow over the night
turning its hair grey with the wisdom of the road
 
II
I pulled the boots of courage right up to my knees
And boarded the train passing through the night
 
I met passengers with tortuous tales
Laid my hands on their doleful hands
 
As each city crystallised through the window of the train
Water ran down onto the flowers of my face
 
I made mirrors of the misted windows of the train
While waiting for my dreams’ goals to take shape
 
III
I tested my heart on the cold rails
At every junction, I switched the tracks towards hope
 
As lonely and enduring as a road,
I learned to be stoic, like a train in the night
 
Turning my life into a long track
I went down it by living
 
IV
Every train is a poem
blending into the dark with its melody
and completing the meaning of the night
 
Each poem is a train of images
passing along the thin rails of our hearts and minds
searching for a station in our souls
 
 
 
THE BLEEDING WINGS OF A LOVE
 
i fell asleep in your soft foliage
in my dream you drank my spirit dry
i awoke to hear your bark swelling
 
for us I foresaw an endless garden
you mowed down the flowers with your eyelashes
leaving me with nothing but arid roots
 
together we’d raised a sea, i thought
you gathered the water in your skirts and dragged it away
i was drenched in the froth, white no more
 
on moonless nights i scanned your eyes for a star
with poignant words you probed my softest spots
i raked up my heart’s shards with my naivety
 
and here I am, on the bleeding wings of a love
you wrote me off long ago, after all
I’ve turned the page on you, once and for all
 
and opened up to poetry
 
 
 
SWEET LULLABY OF LOVE
 
I
Come knock on my door every morning
bringing the scent of bread and flowers
become a sweet hum and glide inside
dissolve the gloom in the room
caress the ruminative, resentful books,
shaking and waking them up to love
 
II
What would you say if I
dabbed a drop of happiness on your lips, then with each kiss
let it grow and spread to your whole body?
 
III
What if I made my dreams a pillow for you to lean on
if I set up a swing in the most vivacious corner of your voice
if I swayed back and forth between love and passion?
 
 
PAINTED BIRDS
 
We were two painted birds
drinking from separate glasses of misery
handed to us by birds that had never known paint
 
We were two painted birds
clinking our sorrows with one another
making love in wine-tinted dreams
 
We were two painted birds
deemed timeless
we flocked up above a fleeting happiness
 
We were two painted birds
with colours that failed to match
away we flew to separate blues.
 
Translated bu Numan Kılıç and Jonathan Ross

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