Milattan önceki yıllardaki yazarları hayal ettiğimde, tahta bir masada, tek başına, sarı küçük bir mum ve katır kutur bir parşömen, ve mürekkep ve hokka, kalem…
Neden hep böyle hissediyorum?
Çok engin
Boşluk
Boş tarlalar, araziler
Sessizlik
Hayvanlar, otlayan sessiz hayvanlar
Yıldızlı gece altında ahırlarda sessizce bekleyen hayvanlar
It must have been “something else” to have known how to write back then. Imagine how small the world would be. How many people would be living on it. How many people would be alive at the same time?
Everything
So, slow, …
And you can just sit there and write. At the end of a day, all alone you sit at your wooden table, and scribble symbols on a piece of leather.
Even the symbols were young back then.
Were the valleys of Anatolia as green back then ?
Did the wind shake the trees at night ?
Did the stars speak to the Greeks?…
Where were the Egyptians, and where were the Hittites?
Egyptians back then did not speak the way they do today.
What did the young Pharaoh think, as he looked across the Nile.
and saw the stars?
Did he know he would die?
…
Were there crocodiles in the Nile?
The Greeks called it the krokodil, the worm of the stones.
Surely, they were right, and beautiful in their naming, for the basilisk has scales as harsh as stone, and was known even back then for eating stones.
" How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!
How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws!"
Lewis Carroll
…
Did the pharaoh know his empire would collapse?
Did the kings know, their inherited empire, passed down from generation to generation, the culmination of MILLENIA of work, would just vanish?
Would the poems be lost
would the songs be lost
will we lose the songs
will i lose my songs
kim söyleyecek bu şarkıları
biz gittikten sonra
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