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Seyfi İşman Archive

A very valuable contribution to Burgaz (ADA) Open Digital Archive came from Burgazada lover Seyfi İşman. In addition to the family photos he shared, he became an interpreter for our feelings with his beautiful poems. Recently, he also prepared a video called "I'm Listening to Burgaz". After this short introduction, I leave you to listen to Burgaz as the poet said, with his works.

I'm Listening to Burgaz Video


Seyfi İşman with his older brother Selim İşman...Indos slope in the back


Courtesy of Mr. Orhan Veli

I'm Listening to Burgaz

I'm listening to Burgaz with my eyes closed

First, a gentle breeze blows;

swaying slowly

Leaves on trees;

At the pier on the shore

fishermen's voices

I am listening to Burgaz, my eyes are closed.

I am listening to Burgaz, my eyes are closed;

When the storks are leaving;

High, high up, screaming.

Nets are drawn in boats

Children's feet touch the water;

I am listening to Burgaz, my eyes are closed.

I am listening to Burgaz, my eyes are closed;

Cool Cool Pier square

Chirpy Sea clubs

seagull-filled drips

Crows sound from the trees

Pine scents in the beautiful September wind

I am listening to Burgaz, my eyes are closed.

I am listening to Burgaz, my eyes are closed;

A butterfly flutters on an oleander branch

I know whether your forehead is warm or not;

Whether your lips are wet or not, I know;

A white moon rises from behind the pines

I understand from the beat of your heart;

I am listening to Burgaz.

I'm in Burgaz

Six o'clock in the morning

An Azan sounds from afar.

I don't know if I'm awake

Then the sound of a seagull, then another

Dozens of seagulls shouting, now they're waking me up

I want to sleep more early, but oh well, let me wake up...

Uncle Burgaz… anyhow.

Let me see the sun coming out over Maltepe

Then I hear the crows and of course the rooster

Let me remember my childhood, 6 years old 10 years old

Let me go back to my childhood in Pebble...

The arrival of our fathers from the ferry

running downhill,

So to race with Koko.

Who will reach his father faster

I remember those days from time to time….I get sad.

No reason.

They had papu.

He had planted a pine tree in the middle of the neighborhood.

You can't play nine stones, you can't say fox fox what time..

Our eldest, Jano, used to rage every night while the neighbors were asleep.

Now if you could see the tree, it has become the biggest pine on the island.

Where are you Toto, Alex, Angela ,Simo ,Mimi ,Argiri ,Ercument,Nilufer

Where are you Sarika, Cefi, Laki, Suzi, Rifka, Celi, Daniel, Beki

Madam Atinula, Madam Urania, Madam Ines, Madam mother's friends.

Where are you, Monsieur Dimitri, who made me love cinema

Monsieur Dimitri, Toto's father, who puts a curtain on the wall and plays a movie every evening.

Where are you Mister Michael. How many tennis balls will you give me today?

Where are you, Mom and Dad, my dear ones who gave me Burgaz as a gift.

I'm sure those who are not among us visit the island every summer.

Isn't that right, Argiri?

How many times have we climbed to Fatman's fig trees?

Do you remember the words "There is a Fatma Fig thief"?

How I got caught once

I did it on me out of fear, I'll never forget

And our army … 6 people. Headquarters in the Pines

The church bell will ring at nine o'clock.

I do not know how many years I will go back to my memories again….

I know; if I heard Greek in the streets of Burgaz ..

Greek tourists, perhaps ex-islanders, that I'm chasing after them.

To remember the past, to hear my neighborhood...

They board the new gliding ferries.

However, "Paşabahçe" I see you once in a while in the Golden Horn

Sad, quiet, rusty, tired…..

I loved you most.

I would stubbornly wait to go with you.

To proudly say that I ride you.

Here is the sound of a steamboat. The first steamboat.

Captain. That's the whistle blowing

The people of Burgaz are sleeping, you will wake everyone up….

But get up early people, islanders

Let them be thankful for the beauties, let them be thankful for the shouting seagulls and crows

Let them become conscious of living on the island

I'm aware, you know? I'm happy. I'm from Burgaz

I'm from Burgaz

If they ask what is love

I say it's a feeling

If they say define

My limits, I say I can't

Even if they insist on who it is and what it is for.

It happens to God, it happens to the family, it happens to the country

It is diverse, my skin is colorful

But with your love for God

My love is not the same

to the mother

Yours and mine ain't the same

To father, spouse, child, family

It is not the same again

So is our patriotism.

love of art

You feel separate, I feel separate

You are emotionally different.

I get emotional differently I say …………

But there is one that is the same…

Your love, my love is the same from Burgaz

Whatever you went through, I lived there too

What you saw is there, I saw it too

Whatever you smelled there, I smelled it too

I'm emotional just like you

While watching the moonlight come out from the saddlebag..

I'm glad, like you, at the beginning of June.

I was also sad like you in September

When my heart burned, as it burned inside you...

I'm from Burgaz, my friend, my "island"

Even though I don't know you personally

On a winter day, if I see you, somewhere in the city

I look behind you, to remember, summer, our island

I know you would do the same

this is the feeling of love

Those who live there know it

Aren't you from Burgaz?

White Burgaz

I got on the ferry on a snowy February morning.

To see the man I miss in white

I saw a few pearls in the middle of the sea far away

And soon it appears before me, like a swan, my Burgaz

His bald top is white,

The roofs are white, the mosque is white, the church with the golden cross is white, the flag is white

The place is full of seagulls, they have adapted to the decor, they are not visible.

But, as if to say, throw a bagel at us, screaming.

I'm getting off the ferry, there's another person getting off

Nobody on the pier, three dogs, two cats

A few crows, just as many seagulls and me

The gloom fills me

But is it so in summers, the children are chirping on the dollar pier?

The front of the patisserie is crowded, the queue at the ice cream shop

The restaurants are full, the boats are lined up, the streets are colorful

The trees are green. bougainvillea purple, oleanders pink and white

Newborn seagulls squeak and people are merry

No, this is not Burgaz, it's another place, I don't know.

I'm bored I want to leave I want to go back

But I hear a whisper saying 'Stop don't go'

I say who is that, who are you?

There's no one around, I hear that voice again

He says 'Stay, I missed you too'

‘I am not where you were born

do you love me in the summer alone

Am I not full of memories

Have you forgotten the happiness of your childhood years

Your vows of friendship, your teenage years,

'The birth of your daughter in my arms in the heat of August,' she continues.

I'm getting hot all of a sudden, it's not the summer heat of course

But I'm warming up, memories come alive

Of course, this is where I was born, my hometown

I'm sorry for thinking like that

I stay a few hours, no one around but

I'm chatting with the dry hydrangeas, the pine I planted last year

It is visible from the end of the ferry bag

I'm getting down to the pier from the white snowy road

You know, there is no snow on the island, everywhere is white.

I can't believe this is the man I live in

An old woman on the pier, a farmer and me

The ferry is taking off, glide slowly, glide

It's freezing cold but I'm outside

I'll say goodbye to my darling,

Keep hibernating, I'll be back soon don't worry

Who is Seyfi İşman?

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