Looking At The Moonlight

Have you ever stayed up all night sitting on a stool on the balcony, looking at the reddish light of the full moon buried in the navy darkness of the sky?

Have you had images that entered your loneliness and made you extremely happy?

Have your eyes, looking into infinity, ever cried because of the anxieties that disturb you?

Have you had a lover? Have you sat with them for hours, exchanging glances?

Have you ever had the opportunity to ask what you or they like most about me?

Have you ever woken them up from their sleep in the middle of the night and said, “Come on, let’s go!” And did they get ready without asking where, linking arms with you, sticking their palm to yours, and rushing down the stairs?!

Have you read songs from Turkish Art Music to them? Have you ever written poems for the person you love? Suppose you’re untalented, have you read poems from Cemal Süreyya, Attila İlhan, Turgut Uyar, Edip Cansever, Özdemir Asaf, Karacaoğlan, Nilgün Marmara, Oktay Rıfat, Murathan Mungan to them?

Have you whispered sayings and idioms stuck in the dictionary of Filiz Bingölçe into your lover’s ear from the father of Argon Neyzen Tevfik, Hüseyin Rahmi Gürpınar, Salah Birsel, Hulki Aktunç?

Have you ever made love to your lover on the beach in the middle of the night?

On their birthday, the day you met, your wedding anniversary, Valentine’s Day, and at the New Year, have you made extraordinary presentations?

Have you ever given your lover a few books as a gift? And have you written “I bought this especially for you, MY LOVE” on the first page of those works and signed it?

Have you lost yourselves in each other’s eyes while they were stroking your hair or you were kissing their necks?

When you became aware that you were a citizen of a poor country, do you remember sharing with your lover and friends how ignorant and uncultured those in power actually are?

There’s no point in dragging it out; have you ever poured out whatever was bothering you from the past into a sentence?.. Is the result always disappointment? May there be no drop of sadness in it anymore, have you sipped on the rakı glass to cool off…

But… Anyway, let me write the last sentences for you so that this narrative ends. Actually, I don’t want it to end at all…

I want to start all over again with all the images:

It was just such a night.

I was nurturing an incredible wound of separation in me, knowing that he didn’t deserve this…

Zekai Tunca’s Hicaz song “You’re Hidden in My Tears, I Can’t Cry” was playing on YouTube. On the marble table in front of me, there was a half-drunk 100-lira bottle of Yeni Rakı Long Infusion, and next to it was a crystal glass that had not yet been sipped.

The full moon was hanging in the air!

The cool waters of the Bosphorus in my body…

Now I could walk from here to Yesim’s house in Bebek…

I had to move out of this house in Istinye to get rid of this memory narrative…

What they call maturing, I think, is the passing of happiness. It’s about grasping the things that come our way in life by the edge. You know, they say, if you see love as a gamble, I’ll play with your life!

Thessaloniki Anıl Güven