PERSEAHLO

Duru Dinc
née le 3 octobre 2002
Sisli / Istanbul / Turquie,ye
Caferaga Mahallesi, Kadıköy
A Lyon depuis le 24 septembre
7, rue Chantoiseau
302, rue Garibaldi depuis 1 juin

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it——

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?——

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot——
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I’ve a call.

It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.
It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.
It’s the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

‘A miracle!’
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart——
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

J'ai ramassé les gouts de tristesse des rues ; je les ai mis dans mon sac et je me suis baignée avec.

Maintenant j'ai assez de tristesse pour me noyer dans ma mélancolie.

“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

Quand je me perds dans toi,
Et encore quand je me trouve dans toi ;
Dansons, nous deux rayons, avant de s’éloigner.
Tout l’univers est malheureux.

An gösteri yapmaya dursun,
Sınırlı bir zaman sonsuzluktan tanıdığı gün alıngandır,
"Neden geceleyin saklanırsın?",
"İnsana verdiğim denizden kopardığım acılar hoşuna mı gider?",

Il neige dans la nuit et autres poèmes
Vous êtes toutes nues dans mes bras
    la ville, la nuit et toi
votre clarté illumine mon visage
  et puis le parfum de vos cheveux.
À qui ce cœur qui bat
au-dessus du murmure de nos souffles palpitants
  est-ce ta voix, celle de la ville, celle de la nuit ou bien la mienne ?
Où finit la nuit, où commence la ville
Où finit la ville, où commences-tu toi
  où est ma fin, où est mon commencement ?

Je prie Dieu chaque nuit pour qu'il me tue avant le matin

Je m'échappe de ce qui est possible

Demain, dès l'aube, à l'heure où blanchit la campagne,
Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m'attends.
J'irai par la forêt, j'irai par la montagne.
Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.

Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.

Je ne regarderai ni l’or du soir qui tombe,
Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur,
Et quand j'arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe
Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.

La laideur est-elle belle ?

Hande Kader, née en 1993 et morte en 2016, est une militante transgenre turque qui s'est fait connaître lors de la Marche des fiertés 2015 à Istanbul lorsqu'elle s'était opposée aux forces de police.
Décrite comme une « icône de la communauté LGBT turque », elle est brutalement assassinée, son corps étant retrouvé entièrement brûlé le 8 août 2016.

TOMA (turc : Toplumsal Olaylara Müdahale Aracı,
français : Véhicule d'Intervention face aux Emeutes Publiques)

Selon un militant de Cihangir en vedette durant les manifestations de Gezi, « la seule façon d'arrêter un TOMA est de jeter de la peinture sur son pare-brise, de sorte que le véhicule perd l'orientation... Pour le paralyser, soit vous devez mettre une serviette humide dans son pot d'échappement, ou brûler quelque chose sous son moteur, ou alors une douzaine de personnes doivent pousser le véhicule pour le déstabiliser. »

İskemleler ayakta uyuyor
masa da öyle
serilmiş yatıyor sırtüstü kilim
yummuş nakışlarını
ayna uyuyor
pencerelerin sımsıkı kapalı gözleri
uyuyor sarkıtmış boşluğa bacaklarını balkon
karşı damda bacalar uyuyor
kaldırımda akasyalar da öyle
bulut uyuyor
göğsünde yıldızıyla
evin içinde dışında uykuda aydınlık
uyandın gülüm
iskemleler uyandı
köşeden köşeye koşuştular
masa da öyle
doğrulup oturdu kilim
nakışları açıldı katmer katmer
ayna seher vakti gölü gibi uyandı
açtı kocaman mavi gözlerini pencereler
uyandı balkon
toparladı bacaklarını boşluktan
tüttü karşı damda bacalar
kaldırımlar akasyalar ötüştü
bulut uyandı
attı göğsündeki yıldızı odamıza
evin içinde dışında uyandı aydınlık
doldu saçlarına senin
dolandı çıplak beline ak ayaklarına senin

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

GÜLİSTAN DOKU
NEREDE ?

Selahattin Demirtas est incarcéré depuis le 4 novembre 2016 à Edirne, en Turquie, aux confins de la Grèce et de la Bulgarie ; il encourt une peine de 183 ans de réclu-sion parce qu'il croit en la liberté, la démocratie et la paix. Kurde de Turquie, avocat des droits humains, il est le leader charismatique du HDP, parti d'opposition pro-kurde et féministe, le plus progressiste du Proche-Orient.