Videolar

17 Aralık 2017 Pazar

TÜRKÇE’DEN İNGİLİZCE’YE VE İSPANYOLCA’YA ÇEVİRİLER - Çeviri: Ulaş Başar Gezgin

TÜRKÇE’DEN İNGİLİZCE’YE VE İSPANYOLCA’YA ÇEVİRİLER
Telli, Ahmet (2001). Si Vayas Se Derribaria Esta Ciudad [Gidersen Yıkılır Bu Kent].
Beyatlı, Yahya Kemal (2001). El Fin Del Septiembre [Eylül Sonu].
Günçe, Ergin (2017). Fascism for Kids [Çocuklar için Faşizm]
Öz, Nida (1996/2002). Welcome.
Öz, Nida (1996/2002). Flight.
Öz, Nida (2006/2010). Fake bus stops [Sahte duraklar].
Öz, Nida (2006/2010). Love has to be written by a long o [Sevgi yumuşak g ile yazılmalı].
Öz, Nida (2006/2010). Red [kırmızı].
Öz, Nida (2004/2010). A –strange- may song [Bir garip mayıs türküsü].

Öz, Nida (nd/tarihsiz). Drama [dram]. 

Si Vayas Se Derribaria Esta Ciudad


Si vayas se derribaria esta ciudad, irian los pajaros tambien
me yo callaria como un rio en el delta de tu cara
Estamos en las direcciones falsas, estamos sin identidad quizas
una sorpresa amarilla estuven todas las luces
¿Estuvimos solo nosotros?, llovieron sin parar
¿tuvimos frio mientras se estremecen las flores de granadas?

Si vayas quien irrigaria los basiliscos
a donde se refugirian los pajaros, cuando anochece

Escucho el silencio ahora y tu aliento
algunos estan rompiendose donde te callas
"espera" estoy diciendo a las calles, estas contemplando
escribiendo estoy, su nombre a todos las paradas del autobus
con tu nombre, estan commemorando todos los lugares en donde besamos
y estoy adjuntando tambien ti, al callarme

Andemos por las calles sin saludos sin respetos
quizas con nosotros, lucen todos los suburbios
le queda las prisiones, los frios mohosos
solo los amigos le queda, no sabemos sus nombres
les tomamos a nuestra corazon, calentamos
no podemos ser el carcelero a nuestra vida cada noche

Si vayas nevaria a mis palmas, tenerias frio
un silencio de la gacela estarian aqui los amores

Unas luces ostentosas se encenden en las tablas de publicidad
sin parar le multiplican los asesinatos quienes les han hecho nadie sabe
y unos pajaros muertos se venden en todos los floreros
en lugar de violetas, narcisos; muertos de pajaros
un sonido del agua un olor del basilisco ahora lejano
le recuerdo los incendios a los muertos jovenes ya

En los cafes de avenida un humo arabesco
la niebla y el suicidio le desmorona a todas las cervecerias
el registro de esta ciudad es claro ya y tu callarte
esta la rebellion millon veces, ¿no yo sé?
me arrima tu, tus manos quedase calurosamente
las patrullas asaltan las casas oscurecidas -de nuevo

Si vayas se derribaria esta ciudad, moririan los pajaros tambien
un diluvio yo estaria en todos los lugares donde te callas


Ahmet Telli
(n. 1946)
El poeta turco




El Fin Del Septiembre


Se han acortado los dias. Los viejos de Kanlica
Recordiendo los otoños pasandos cada de cada.

Solo para amar este barrio, nuestras vidas son cortas…
No terminen veranos lentamente, no se acorten los dias…

No nos hartamos por años, hemos bebido esta bebida rara…
No le ha suficido una vida sola para asi gusto, que lastima!

No nos asusta mucho, hay morir en la fortuna;
El dolor del departir del pais, es dificil ya.

No ninguna volver de la noche de la muerta a esta costa,
Peor que la muerte tambien, es una añonranza.



Yahya Kemal Beyatlı
El poeta turco




Fascism for Kids


Kids too can understand fascism
Fascism means to be beaten by a wicked dad
It is to be kept in a dark room
When you insist to ask for your rights

Stepmom slaps the half-smiling orphan
With her soap-full hand
That is a still mourning kid, without support yet.
To terrorize is the aim, to captivate it is.
The kid recognizes fascism in his cheek.

Why are they always so ugly?
No beautiful fascist ever existed.
Hey kids, these are meaningful questions for you
The schools are not teaching you this lesson

Wherever a power has been accumulated, an unfair one,
Wherever you see a bluster or nonsense
Wherever our bread was grabbed from our very hands
In class, at school, at home, at market
There it is kids, the fascism is there

All of us should hold each others’ hands
To walk past the night without fear
The sun will rise in one way or another
As soon as the roosters start to crow


Ergin Günçe (1938-1983), Turkish poet



Welcome


On this winter evening
While only cold sweeps
Into here
Into this room
When the door was opened
You swept this time
On an icy winter evening
The after-rain odour of
Honeysuckle
At the edge of the door
Swept
Welcome to our street
Though it is cold
My room warmed up at once
Did your heart too get cold for years
-just like your hands-
with your cold little hands
welcome to your home

welcome
welcome to our street
each and every corner
looked for you when you were absent
lovebird you’re
look, do you see the naughty
settled on your shoulder at once
she has no mouth how she’d tell
that she missed you at least as much as me
on a forlorn summer night
I had told her why you went
Maybe she hadn’t understood anything
Yet she had listened for hours

When you went
I moved the begonias to the balcony
She looked for you
Her leaves were thrown away crimsonly
You were at all the pictures
At the ones I have looked at since you went
You at all seasons
Those at which I cried with rains
And there are still in my wardrobe some of your summer
clothes
Those that I smell at times

When you were absent
When you were absent
I told the aquarium the times at which you were
present
The fish at the aquarium were recognising you
They were so little when you went
Look, all got big now
Everyone was recognising you
At the district
Everyone was asking you
It was too hard to tell –believe me-
Everything was hard without you

The song we had listened on the last evening
Is still on the gramophone
Whereas the flowers in the vase
Were dried
Your circassian blue eyes
And your words were absent for centuries in my room
Nobody would know what we lived in this room
Well that you came
Welcome to my room
Believe me, it was unbearable without you

On this winter evening
While only cold sweeps
Into here
Into this room
When the door was opened
You swept this time
-Welcome



Nida Öz
Turkish poet from Germany
(d.1955)





Flight


now I am fleeing
from somewhere of the night
to your eyes
from a silent
and dark hole
my inside escapes to mountains
to the feet of oaks
my heart is stepping on mines
my hands are hanging on wires
yet I come to you
the blue t-shirt that you bought
by your first salary is on me

it too was worn out just like my years
it turned pale it faded
after my nightmares
I wiped my sweat with it
It listened to my problem on evenings
I wiped the rusts at my bunk
I smelled it at times
just like a flower
-the points that your hands touched-
I wiped my glass my mouth
It became a curtain
upon wicked winds to my window
at nights
and by it I closed
my eyes
to the things I would not like to see

my blue t-shirt has already worn out
me already
my hands worn out due to lime walls
my tongue worn out due to preacher
my ears - due to lies
my eyes – due to seeing traitors
-and my nights – due to dreams
but you
did not wear out in my heart yet
my blue darling

now
I am fleeing
from somewhere of the night
my soul wants to come to you
by coming out of thin and dark holes
my soul is stepping on the mines
my soul is suffering while fleeing to your eyes
I am covering my soul with my blue t-shirt
the last cigarette smokes at my mouth
the oak forests are at my nose
the oak forests
become too far I see
-you become too far-
my soul is bleeding
you are bleeding in my heart
upon a flight
-while fleeing to your eyes-
my blue t-shirt is on me
you within me
die with me


Nida Öz
15. 01. 1996







Fake Bus Stops


                                    -you have my marbles-

I

here was a fragile city
where seagulls at sea
and pigeons at squares wake up –early-
a city in which the fishermen collect stars from the water

malaguena was playing on fm 105
for a woman kissed at slums for the first time
instead of a prayer for rain
a prayer for love
at the single ghettos of the city

from all its shores
-oysters immigrated long time ago-
as mad as southwester and suicide
love
was cheap as fish and bread

none of the dances on the water
was for couples
when the nights were chilling at summer’s heat
feminine and masculine words
were not fitting each other well


II

in this city in which from where the sun rises is not known
anything from the old times
they are free aren’t they:
“who cares”

when childish colors fell on the dreams
the woman just released the balloons at her hand
the marbles fell to the golden horn
they decided
to make love
at a fake bus stop


İstanbul 22-30 june 2006
Nida Öz


love has to be written by a long o[1]


When I was a kid, the only luxury at home was a baroque commode with mirror that my father bought from his Greek friends who were leaving Turkey, and a dinner table. But the most luxurious, the most valuable, the most special was a music box that he found at an antique shop at Tahtakale. I wasn’t using it frequently and setting it just a little so that it won’t break down. The notes on each cog that brass spring turns when it was back to its initial state was wonderful. Sometimes, while I was listening, I used to cry although I didn’t know why.

It was autumn. Maybe the wizard within me was telling me “cry again”. Suddenly the spring set free... I had set it only a little. All the notes disappeared within a couple of seconds.
I could make no sense out of the music that was playing.
I gently opened the box... I worked hard for days and months to mend it, but I couldn’t. I cried.

-But- this time I knew why I cried.



while the years are climbing a steep hillside
lilac perfume is lost in all the women’s hair
it is time to find another name for autumn
is it that the human makes the melodies cry
or the melodies make the human cry

whatever it is...
whether it was lived fully or not
love has to be written by a long o
the sun was right here yesterday
i was holding her hand
she used to cry
the earth used to walk by the feet of a latin singer
when she was hanging around totally wet in the palms
we did not see the seagulls of other seas

we often made love in stations for fun
the ships were waved at in vain
the dreams were ashes of our fancies
those that we saw at midnight
while we were covering our body by the blanket of solitude
the counts of tiny victories within us

whatever it is...
whether it was lived fully or not
love has to be written by a long o

why did we hurt the trees
what was the use of forcing the days to pace back and forth anyway
while lie was being mixed with the real
love tramped our pavements in vain

we thought all the fairy tales were real
however the films we were shooting were torn by many parts
once upon a time there were some actors
the mirror was merely a glass if it didn’t have the foil on the back
whatever it is...
whether it was lived fully or not
-for me- love has to be written by a long o



14-29 may 2006
Nida Öz



red


the man was looking there/ with eyes-for-rent
somebody had been hung to the wall
the light was leaking out of the blinds
the lamp would die away if you would blow it out/ regardless of what you do
in the fully naked flower in the vase
is the blood at the hands of jesus christ
the face of the painter was not contaminated by paint
the background of the canvas is
red

the woman was looking there/ with eyes-for-rent
the dream looked blurred
she had been told that/ life is the third door from the end on the left hallway
the wood was decayed/ the key was rusty
she was composing all her songs in black
since her piano was sold
all the notes are
red

the kid was looking there/ with eyes-for-rent
a silhouette of a woman without breasts
everybody was whispering another lullaby to her/ she had to sleep
she had to open the eyes of the earth early
life was not a large note/ it was a small change
“the eyedrop was large rivers flowing in the midst of it/ as long as the seas were polluted”
she had understood that the water was crying
that one on the wall was a big clock
red

when the sun was turning her back to the earth
everybody was looking there
bus stops are full of people/ the buses are wide empty
all the lights are
red

31 january 2006

Nida Öz






a –strange- may song


i

whenever i pass through that time tunnel
my dreams lie under a panzer
the windows of bookshops shatter
the pieces
fall over the universities
the streets are watered by blood

the books are burnt on the squares
the hands of earth do not warm up

whenever i hear a gunshot
bullets rain over taksim
after a demonstration
dead cars
the kids collect shells
on the back streets
the sky smells blood

whenever i pass over that street
the hair of a woman grows longer to death
her lips are cracked due to fear
that they took hamdi by grabbing his beard
and he was never back comes to my mind

the police turns to be the reaper in disguise
he rushes into the harvest
he does not let the way for young ears
while cypresses shed leaves
onto nameless graves

whenever may –the first- arrives
the kids who sell newspapers
                  the elders who collects nails
                  -among granite stones-
                  come to my door
           
                  that i was deceived comes to my mind
                  in the tulip trick
                  spring fest



                  a –strange- may song

      ii

                  poor deaths
                  turn into soil by fake “amen”s

while factory chimneys pollute the city
corruption is cleared
soldier, guard of honor
black-handed politicians
are recorded in liar history books

whenever “labor” is mentioned
dog-eat-dog world comes to my mind
and my people come to my mind
my people whose head is –still- in the clouds


01 may 2004
Nida Öz



Drama


that street has been named after you, I lately noticed it
not all can be seen from the steamy window
the sky turns pale whenever I finger it
the woman at the corner sings as autumn
while the sky lets the departure drink water
the pavement on the street sleeps open-top

this book has been dedicated to you, I lately noticed it
fog in its pages, a drama
they say it burned itself, i don’t believe
the libraries smell burnt
at Babiali, i fall down out of myself

this book has been dedicated to you, I lately noticed it
i miss my footing, when that happens,
they say, back streets were dirtied, don’t believe
who knows how many fishes passed this city
how many ships took a nap at fake harbors

this world has not been founded for us, I lately noticed it
If I would have known, I would have already unplugged the sun

nida oz







[1] The original title is ‘love should be written with a soft g’. Since it has a meaning peculiar to the Turkish word for ‘love’ and a letter in the Turkish alphabet, it is freely translated as ‘love has to be written by a long o’.

Kaynak: Gezgin, U.B. (2017). Dünyayı Şiirle Dolaşmak: 2000’den 2017’ye Dünya Şiiri Çevirileri [Globetrotting via Poetry: World Poetry Translations – Comp. and trans. Ulas Basar Gezgin].


DÜNYAYI ŞİİRLE DOLAŞMAK
2000’DEN 2017’YE DÜNYA ŞİİRİ ÇEVİRİLERİ
Derleyen ve Çeviren: Ulaş Başar Gezgin

AFGAN ŞİİRİ
Anjoman, N. (2014). Bir Afgan Kadınıyım Ben ki 
Anjoman, N. (2014). Gazel: Geliyor Bana 
Anjoman, N. (2014). Gazel: Nesini Söyleyim
Anjoman, N. (2014). Gazel: Şarkı
Anjoman, N. (2014). Mavi Anılar 
Anjoman, N. (2014). Tanınmazlık Dağında
Meena (2014). Hayır Asla Dönmeyeceğim Geri

AFRİKA ŞİİRİ
Oguibe, O. (2006). Kanımla bağlıyım ben bu ülkeye
Okara, G. (2002). Güldün ve güldün ve güldün
Okara, G. (2001). Eski günlerdi 
p'Bitek, O. (1970/2014). Söyle Bana Dostum Yoldaşım
Soyinka, W. (2009). Sivil ve Asker
   
AFRO-AMERİKALI ŞİİRİ[1]
Baraka, A. (2001/2010). Havaya uçurmuşlar Amerika’yı
Harper, F. (2000). Beni gömün ama özgür bir vatana
Hughes, L. (2015). Ölen Çocuklar Öldürülen Çocuklar 
Hughes, L. (2001). Çingene adam.
Hughes, L. (2000). Nehirlerden söz açıyor bir zenci
Komunyakaa, Y. (2001). Demire inanmak
Komunyakaa, Y. (2001). Yitip gitmedeyiz sen ve ben

AVUSTRALYA YERLİ ŞİİRİ
Noonuccal, O. (2014). Bumerang Yok Artık
Noonuccal, O. (2014). Mutsuz Irk
Noonuccal, O. (2014). Uygarlık
Noonuccal, O. (2014). Ak Adam Kara Adam
Noonuccal, O. (2014). Sanatçı Oğlum Benim

‘BATI’ ŞİİRİ
Engels, F. (2008/1838). Bedevi
Michel, L. (2013). Kızıl karanfil
Poe, E. A. (2002). Çanlar
Blake, W. (2000). Kaplan
Grass, G. (2012). Söylenmesi gereken. 
Dos Passos, J. (2005). Tabldot
Reade, J. (2001). Sevdiğim şarkıları söyle bana.
Gosman, A.D. (2011). Etkisi altında Ay’ın
Bashllari, M. (2014). Rezil Edilmiş Çiçekler
Fortenberry, T. (2014). Şahinkız.
Kelsen, H. (2003). Günü Yaşa.
Mustaine/Menza/Ellefson/Friedman (2003). Türtükenimi’ne Gerisayım

ÇİN ŞİİRİ[2]
Yüen, M. (2008/1972). Kitaplar üstüne
Juyi, B. (2005). Mutsuz bilgin
Fu, D. (2005). Savaş Arabaları Baladı 
Tung P’o, S. (2005). Oğlunun doğumu üstüne 
Çing, A. (2005). Paris Ağıdı
Çi, L. (2003). Yazma sanatı

ENDONEZYA ŞİİRİ
İsmail, T. (2009). Belki ben de bir hırsızım
Sarjono, A. (2009). Sahte şiir

ERMENİ ŞİİRİ
Terziyan, T. (2001). Çırağan Sarayı
Sayat Nova (2000). Bir sözüm var sana, söylemek istediğim
İsahakyan, A. (2000). Siz çançiçekleri! 
Asadur, Z.S. (2014). Gözyaşları
Turyan, B. (2000). Ölümüm
Horen Nar Bey (2014). Göçebe Ermeni’den Buluta 
Horen Nar Bey (2014). Sürgünden Serçeye
Raffi (2014). Van Gölü
Patkanian, R. (2014). Padişahım Çok Yaşa

FİLİSTİN ŞİİRİ[3]
Derviş, M. (2002). Kimlik Kartı
Derviş, M. (2002). Rita ve tüfenk
Derviş, M. (2002). Anam
Derviş, M. (2002). Pasaport.
Derviş, M. (2002). Üstümüze kapanıyor dünya
Adnan, E. (2003). Cenin

FRANSIZCA’DAN ÇEVİRİLER
Brulé, G. (Yanık Gace). (2002). Gurbet türküsü
Garneau, S.- D. (2003). Kuş kafesi

HAİKULAR: BARIŞ VE HUZUR HAİKULARI
J. Baranski, ABD
R. Yarrow, ABD
M. Lysenko, Avustralya
L. Balabanova, Bulgaristan
j. kacian, ABD
H. Ludwig, ABD-Almanya
G. Terebess, Macaristan
D. Matas, Hırvatistan
D. Franin, Hırvatistan
D. Plazanin, Hırvatistan
B. Ross, ABD
B. Akio, Japonya
B. Natsuishi, Japonya
A. Deodhar, Hindistan
A. Kudryavitsky, Rusya
S. Stanford, Avustralya
R. D. Wilson, ABD
I. Prondzynski, Kenya
J. Antonini, Fransa

HİNT ŞİİRİ
Sri, S. (2005). Ulusal tarihler
Derozio, H.L.V. (2003). Hindistan’a – Anayurduma
Çatterci, B.Ç. (2003). Anam, Eğiliyorum Önünde.
Tagore, R. (2003). Şarkılar (Gitancali) 51.
Warrior, N.V. K. (2005). Afrika
Rath, R. (2007). Sürgündeki asker
Sharma, S.K. (2011). Demokrasi: Eski ve yeni
Yazarsız (2005). Yaradılış (Rig Veda)
Yazarsız (2005). Kumarbaz (Rig Veda)

IRAK ŞİİRİ
El Melaika, N. (2014). Kimim Ben? 
El Melaika, N. (2014). Sözler İçin Aşk Şarkısı 
El Melaika, N. (2014). Yabancıyız 
El Melaika, N. (2014). Yeni Yıl 

İSPANYOLCA’DAN ÇEVİRİLER[4] 
Guillen, N. (2012). Yalnız palmiye.
Lorca, F. G. (2012). Dilsiz çocuk.
Al Ramli, M. (2007). Hayır Diyorum Benden Irak’ın Özgürleştirilmesine!
Heis, N. (2002). Severdim Yahudi Halkı Önceleri.

MALTA ŞİİRİ
Briffa, R. (2001). Aynalar
Briffa, R. (2001). Kederlinin şarkısı
Briffa, R. (2001). Marş ve kalabalık 

MISIR ŞİİRİ
Negm, A.F. (2014). Kim onlar ve kimiz biz?
Negm, A.F. (2013). Kaledeki hapishane

NEPAL ŞİİRİ
Bishta, M. (1983/2014). Böyle Olur Bir Milletin Yaşarmış Gibi Yapması
Giri, B. (2003). Kadın 
Giri, B. (2008/2013). Kathmandu 
Katuval, H. (2014). Dileğim
Katuval, H. (2014). Hayat? Bu mu Şimdi Hayat?! Yav He He... 
Nibha, B. (2014). Şair İyi misin, Ne İçtin Böyle Yazmak İçin?
Paudyal, L. (2014). Himalaya 
Serchan, B. (2014). Bir Şiir
Serchan, B. (2014). Öğlen ve Buz Uykusu
Serchan, B. (2014). Yalandan İbaret Bence, Milli Tarih Denen Nane 
Serchan, B. (2014). Yeni Yıl 
Vyathit, K.M. (2014). Karıncalar 

VİETNAM ŞİİRİ
Gezgin, U. B. (2007). Vietnam Şiiri’ne kısa bir giriş.
Nguyen Du (2016). Hanoi’un Gitaristi 
Vu, D.L. (2014). Hattat 
Do, T. N. Y. (2007). Konuklama
Van, Cao (2016). Gerçek Dünyada Varolmayan Beş Sabah.
Anh, N. D. (2007). Göksel geçide bakış 
Xuan, D. (2014). Deniz 
Dzenh, H. (2007). Vietnamlı genç hanım
Loan, H. (2010/2007). Yabanmersini çiçeklerinin lavanta rengi
Quynh, X. (2007). Uykusuz gecelerde eş için söylenen şarkı 

YUNAN ŞİİRİ
Kavafis, K. (2001). Derdi Üstlenmek Üzere.
Pezaros, P. D. (2001). Siklad Adaları Şarkısı- Sifnos
Voidis, H. (2001). Karanlık kent 

DİĞER ÇEVİRİLER[5]
Yazarsız (2004). Tonga’lıyım beşikten mezara 
Lermontov, M.Y. (2001). Tamara.
Kolbe, U. (2010). Kıyısında yaşadığımız su
Montale, E. (2010). Sorma bize o sözcüğü.
Noroes, E. (2010). Kayıp 
Noroes, E. (2010). Guava 

TÜRKÇE’DEN İNGİLİZCE’YE VE İSPANYOLCA’YA ÇEVİRİLER
Telli, Ahmet (2001). Si Vayas Se Derribaria Esta Ciudad [Gidersen Yıkılır Bu Kent].
Beyatlı, Yahya Kemal (2001). El Fin Del Septiembre [Eylül Sonu].
Budak, Abdülkadir (2003). La Consistencia [Kıvam].
Budak, Abdülkadir (2003). Consistency.
Günçe, Ergin (2017). Fascism for Kids [Çocuklar için Faşizm]
Appleyard, J.L. (2001). You, Southerner [Tú, del Sur]
Öz, Nida (1996/2002). Welcome.
Öz, Nida (1996/2002). Flight.
Öz, Nida (2006/2010). Fake bus stops [Sahte duraklar].
Öz, Nida (2006/2010). Love has to be written by a long o [Sevgi yumuşak g ile yazılmalı].
Öz, Nida (2006/2010). Red [kırmızı].
Öz, Nida (2004/2010). A –strange- may song [Bir garip mayıs türküsü].
Öz, Nida (nd/tarihsiz). Drama [dram].
Tavlan, Ergun (2002). Papa
Arslan, Yılmaz (2011). I listened to the Moon (Ay’ı dinledim)




[1] Countee Cullen’ın ‘Miras’ adlı şiirinin çevirisi için bkz. Gezgin, U.B. (2017). Ben Bütün Karanlıkları Bunlarla Yendim: Şiir Eleştirileri (2000-2017).
[2] Diğer Çin ve Asya şiirleri için bkz. Gezgin, U. B. (2007). Asya yazıları. İzmir: Ara-lık Yayınevi.
[3] Ayrıca bkz. Etel, A. (2007). Arap kıyameti. (çev. U. B. Gezgin)
[4] Daha fazlası için bkz. Paz, O. (2000). Kartal mı güneş mi? (İsp çev: U.B. Gezgin). İstanbul: Virtüel Yayınevi.
Jimenez, J. R. (2007). 50 İspanyol şiiri (çev. U. B. Gezgin).
Latin Amerika Şiiri Antolojisi - Derleyen ve İspanyolca’dan Çeviren: Ulaş Başar Gezgin
XII. Yüzyıldan XX. Yüzyıla İspanyol Şiiri Antolojisi - Derleyen ve İspanyolca’dan Çeviren: Ulaş Başar Gezgin 
[5] Ayrıca bkz. Gezgin, U. B. (baskıda). Hollanda’dan Tayvan’a Şiir Çevirileri: Diğer Kitaplara Giren Çeviriler - Çeviren: Ulaş Başar Gezgin.
bkz. Gezgin, U. B. (baskıda). Yanardağlar Patladığında / Когда пробуждались вулканы - Bilimsel ve Yazınsal Çeviriler (1999-2017)- Çeviren: Ulaş Başar Gezgin



Hiç yorum yok:

Yorum Gönder