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
Archive
POETRY
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 Linda...my 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?
https://www.judart.com/seyfi-isman.html