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I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed: At first there is a gentle breeze And the leaves on the trees Softly sway; Out there, far away, The bells of water-carriers unceasingly ring; I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed; Then suddenly birds fly by, Flocks of birds, high up, with a hue and cry, While the nets are drawn in the fishing grounds And a woman's feet begin to dabble in the water. I am Iistening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed. The Grand Bazaar's serene and cool, An uproar at the hub of the Market, Mosque yards are full of pigeons. While hammers bang and clang at the docks Spring winds bear the smell of sweat; I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed; Still giddy from the revelries of the past, A seaside mansion with dingy boathouses is fast asleep. Amid the din and drone of southern winds, reposed, I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed. A pretty girl walks by on the sidewalk: Four-letter words, whistles and songs, rude remarks; Something falls out of her hand It is a rose, I guess. I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed. A bird flutters round your skirt; On your brow, is there sweat? Or not? I know. Are your lips wet? Or not? I know. A silver moon rises beyond the pine trees: I can sense it all in your heart's throbbing. I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed.
FOR YOU
For you, my fellow humans, Everything is for you, Nights are for you, days are for you; Daylight is for you, moonlight is for you; Leaves in the moonlight; Wonder and wisdom in the leaves, Myriad greens in daylight, Yellow is for you, and pink. The feel of the skin on the palm, Its warmth, Its softness, The comfort of lying down; For you are all the greetings And the masts winnowing in the harbor; Names of the days, Names of the months, Fresh paint on rowboats is for you Mailman's feet, Potter's hands Sweat on foreheads, Bullets fired on battlefronts; Graves are for you and tombstones, Jails and handcuffs and death sentences Are for you Everything is for you.
SEA NOSTALGIA
Vessels sail along my dreams, Over the roofs, ships in a feast of color, And poor me, Yearning for the sea year in year out, I gaze and weep. I recall my first sight of the world Through a mussel shell I pried open: The greenest water and the bluest sky And the rippliest of lump-fish... My blood still flows salty Where the oysters slit my skin. What a mad speed plunge was ours Into the high seas on the whitest foam! Foam bears no malice, Like lips Whose adultery with men Is no disgrace.
Vessels sail along our dreams Over the roofs, ships in a feast of color, And poor me, Yearning for the sea year in year out.
-- Orhan Veli
I could not have said anything better than what Orhal Veli Kanik said about Istanbul. About this movie, all I have is praise. A very nice and balanced introduction to a city and its music that connected Asia, Europe and Africa at one point of time.


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