On the 69th anniversary of his death, notable Turkish writer Orhan Veli Kanık is being commemorated in Turkey. His short life has been surpassed by his timeless and inspiring writing. The mark he has left on Turkish literature has been guiding future generations of writers since his demise.

[mks_dropcap style="letter" size="52" bg_color="#ffffff" txt_color="#000000"]O[/mks_dropcap]rhan Veli Kanık was born on April 13, 1914 in Istanbul’s Beykoz district, and he lost his life by having cerebral bleeding on November 14, 1950 in Istanbul. Bringing colloquialisms into his poems, he inspired a fundamental change in Turkish poetry. Together with Oktay Rıfat and Melih Cevdet he was one of the founders of Garip [Weird] Movement. He left his mark in Turkish literature not only with his poems but also with his articles, stories, essays and translations. Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar, Turkish poet, novelist, essayist, politican, literary scholar and Kanık’s teacher during his high school years, witnessed Kanık’s last moments at the hospital before his demise:

“I can never forget the day I saw Orhan under the oxygen tent, seminude, barely breathing, and draining our world, that had been embraced by such beauties, out of his half-open eyes. The intelligence bringing a soft, sweet division and taste into our literature had been originated in Orhan himself.”

MILESTONES – ORHAN VELİ KANIK

Orhan Veli’s biography was once displayed on Milestones, which was one of the most interesting and well-received TV programmes of TRT channel at that time. Biography of “A peculiar Orhan Veli” was animated and introduced to the audience.

HIS RELATION WITH LITERATURE AND BRIEF BIOGRAPHY

Orhan Veli introduced a new taste into Turkish poetry by hauling daily talk up to presence of poetry readers. He crammed in his 36 year long lifetime many literary works including stories, essays, articles and translations. Orhan Veli did away with everything of old and traditional for the sake of embracing a new taste; therefore he refused to use syllable and "aruz" meters, and he regarded rhetoric techniques including hyperbole, metaphor and simile inessential. Before his assignment at the Turkish postal administration in Ankara, he worked as a teaching assistant for a short period after graduating from İstanbul University, the Faculty of Literature. Between the years 1942 - 1945 he worked in the Turkish army as a reserve officer. Having an excellent command of French, he served as a translator in the Ministry of Education, where he later introduced the literary works of some outstanding French writers to Turkish literature with his translations. In 1946 he issued a literary magazine called Yaprak (Folio), which had 28 issues from January 1, 1949 to June 15, 1950. He published his early poems in the modernist literary magazine Varlık (Existence) under his pen-name Mehmet Ali Sel before taking a distant stance towards traditional literary scheme. In 1941 he commenced, together with Oktay Rıfat and Melih Cevdet Anday,the Garip (Peculiar) Movement through which he published his revolutionary poems of a new literary taste. At the time, the movement was both applauded and sharply criticized on the part of literary circles. Alongside his avant-garde and revolutionary literary identity, Orhan Veli is also known with his admiration of İstanbul, from which his beautiful poem "I am Listening to İstanbul" arose.

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 listening 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
Spirng 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 sweet? 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.