Shores that absorb the soul of the evening

I wish that those who embark on the rose-thorned path of poetry, those who say they are a poet, and those who not only say they are poets but also attempt to teach poetry, knew some of their names and knew them. Don’t get me wrong, this is just my wish. One of these people is Mehmet Behçet Yazar. Let’s start with one of his poems. However, look at the beauty as well as the ease of this narration. You might think it’s Hacı Bayram Veli. But it’s not. Maybe, like Şeyh Galip, he says to you, “Don’t think that such and such a word / Come and say such a word.”

“What happened all of a sudden / My heart came to life / It was filled with fire / My heart burned so much.

He knew how to burn so much / He erased every doubt / He was not unkind / This heart of mine always bled.

My heart was both deceived by this pleasure / and captivated by this passion / and endured this love that was like fire.

The fire of love was pleasant / It rushed to a thousand disasters / It overflowed like an ocean / This heart of mine was agitated.

My heart thought that my beloved was far away / In the skies at dawn / Even alone / He existed.

On every tulip cheek / On every ruby lip / In the hyacinth and lily / This heart of mine is hidden.

He remembered his beloved / He was deceived by a thousand disasters / What did he think of his soul / This heart of mine was deceived.

If your beloved is a soul / If your beloved is a soul / This sultan was always one / This heart of mine was a sultan

As long as this conscience hears / As long as this faith burns / Man speaks and writes / This heart of mine was human.”

Mehmet Behçet Yazar was born in Aleppo in 1890. He came to Thessaloniki in 1903 because his father was the chief clerk of the Court of Appeal. He met many writers while studying at Thessaloniki High School. He graduated from the Faculty of Law. But he became a literature teacher. He worked as a literature teacher and principal in various schools. He returned to Istanbul in 1929. He worked at Kabataş and Haydarpaşa High Schools. He retired in 1952 due to eye problems. He died in Istanbul on July 2, 1980 as the last representative of Fecr-i Âti.

I mentioned that he was the last representative of Fecri Ati. Let me explain what Fecr-i Ati is in a few sentences:

The first group in Turkish literature to introduce itself to the public by publishing a declaration was the Fecr-i Âti group in 1908. The declaration bore the signatures of poets and writers such as Ahmet Samim, Ahmet Haşim, Emin Bülent, Emin Lami, Tahsin Nahit, Celal Sahir, Cemil Süleyman, Hamdullah Suphi, Refik Halit, Sahabettin Süleyman, Abdülhak Hayri, İzzet Melih, Ali Canip, Ali Süha, Faik Ali, Fazıl Ahmet, Mehmet Behçet, Mehmet Rüştü, Köprülüzade Mehmet Fuat, Müfit Ratip, and Yakup Kadri.

What did they say: “To serve the development of language, literature and art; to bring together young talents; to enlighten the public; to publish the works of the members of the group as a series of publications; to translate important works of thought and literature of the West into Turkish; to raise the level of the people's taste in literature; to introduce the works of Turkish literature to the West and the products of the West to the East…”

Mehmet Behçet Yazar adopted all the characteristics of the Fecr-i Âti community in both poetry and prose, and he also conformed to the Fecr-i Âti aesthetics in terms of his perception, imagination, and style of expression and his personalities in subjects. The most important feature of his poems was his sincerity and the lyricism that resulted from this. He had a good command of the language and poetic technique. Some of his works are: Erganun, Beirut Vilayeti, Buhurdan, Kastamonu Asar-ı Kadimesi, Our Young Poets and Their Works, Our Young Novelists and Their Works, Yumak...

“I would like to present a poem titled Coasts:

“A young gazelle is timid,

Shores smoother than your gaze...

Absorbing the spirit of the evening wholeheartedly,

Sad shores in the long run...

The sea was shot with hidden arrows

The shores have become a wing to the sea...

Now it's a line, turned into a trace

Melted, tear-filled shores...

The last trace of the autumn season,

The shores filled the soul and became roses...

Our love, which is the soul of the evening,