Nazim Hikmet (1902-1963), whose 52nd death anniversary was commemorated in June, was a poet, playwright, novelist, screenwriter, director and memoirist. Although acclaimed as a giant of modern Turkish literature, he suffered, on account of his radical political views, long years in prison - an experience which he immortalised in his poetry.

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Letters from a man in solitary

Nazim Hikmet

It's spring outside, my dear wife, spring.

Outside on the plain, suddenly the smell

of fresh earth, birds singing, etc.

It's spring, my dear wife,

the plain outside sparkles.

And inside the bed comes alive with bugs,

the water jug no longer freezes.

and in the morning sun floods the concrete.

The sun -

every day till noon now

it comes and goes

from me, flashing off

and on.

And as the day turns to afternoon, shadows climb the walls,

the glass of the barred window catches fire,

and it's night outside,

a cloudless spring night.

And inside this is spring's darkest hour.

In short, the demon called freedom,

with its glittering scales and fiery eyes,

possesses the man inside

            especially in spring.

I know this from experience, my dear wife,

            from experience.

******

Sunday today.

Today they took me out in the sun for the first time.

And I just stood there, struck for the first time in my life

            by how far away the sky is,

            how blue

            and how wide.

Then I respectfully sat down on the earth.

I leaned back against the wall.

For a moment no trap to fall into,

no struggle, no freedom, no wife.

Only earth, sun and me.

I am happy.

Translated by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk

*Third World Resurgence No. 298/299, June/July 2015, p 60