Considering the fact that there are not ınany books written on the Grand Bazaar, we thought that there would not be many poems about it as well. However, Emin Nedret İşli proved us wrong by f”ınding as many poems as to make an anthology . .
“The Grand Bazaar is not mentionedin any other place in Necatigil’s book except its title. You cannot find any other poems on the Bazaar, other than the famous poem The Grand Bazaar by Orhan Veli, in most of the poetry anthologies. I searched many poetry books and poetry anthologies. And, it gave its fruits. I found out that beside Orhan Veli, poets like Sezai Karakoç, Refik Durbaş and Selahattin Savcı also had poems named The Grand Bazaar. Moreover, in the nine other poems I found, the name “Grand Bazaar” was used as a name of a place or a symbol. Considering the number of the poems I found with a brief research, I believe, with a systematic research, which will consist of the Ottoman Poetry, the number of these poems would increase more, perhaps as much as to compose an anthology.
The Legend of İstanbul Bedrl Rahmi Eyüboğlu
When I hear the name İstanbul, The Grand Bazaar comes to my mind. Handin hand with the 9th symphony Comes the Algerian Anthem. An embellished bridal chaınber, ls for sale in the auction; What is ınissing in the bed? ls only a bride and a groom. A chubby lute of mother of pearl Is sitting in the comer; In an old Orfeaon record in near, Playing Mr. Cemal, the Tanbura player. Chandeliers and hookahs in their hands, Rusty Iranian swords, Put your hands up, American cowboys!
The Grand Bazaar Orhan Veli Karuk
You know how the dean linen smells, In the storage rooms; Your store smells exactly like that. You don’t know my older sister, She was going to be a bride, if she survived; These laces are hers; This veil is her veil. How about these women at the windows?
With these blue, With these green dresses? Do they stand like this at nights, too? How about this shirt of a fıne fabric? Does it have a story, too? It is not just a Bazaar, The Grand Bazaar, The sealed box.
Attila İlhan The Gate of Happiness (Dersaadet)
The most autumn like ferry in which nobody remained, Neither nougat seliers from Beykoz, nor the phonographs with odeonhoms. Are songs perhaps the only hope? With Ottoman style bells the captain stole from the Grand Bazaar. For the resentment of the Bosphorus like a wounded wild bird?
Orhan Veli Karuk An excerpt from the poem “I am llstening to İstanbul”:
I am llstening to İstanbul, my eyes closed, The cool breeze in the Grand Bazaar The liveliness in Mahmutpaşa The courtyards full of pigeons, The hammer sounds are coming from the dockyards. The smell of sweat in the beautiful spring breeze: I am llstening to İstanbul, my eyes closed
Hüseyin Avni Cinozoğlu From his book “İstanbul, Forgetful Coquette”
Who are you? A ruby, emerald or a diamond? Or an angel in a human form? Oh my tender love from Bedestan Allow me to kiss your crystal feet. Oh Grand Bazaar with wide courts, And metal shops full of narcissistic mirrors How exuberant were my dreams I left behind my activism in my seventeen.
Şükrü Enis Regü From the poem “İstanbul”:
How much you have changed, İstanbul! Your sea had lost its waves, Your ships had lost their sails! The Grand Bazaar is filled with new faces It seems as ifbuildings has something to say, To the clouds! What happened to you, İstanbul?
Refık Durbaş Çarşı-yı kebir (The Grand Bazaar):
It was called “Çarşı-yı kebir” in old times, In the language of Ancient Greek, it is the”Big Bazaar”. Known as “the sealed box,” since Orhan Veli’s poem, In daily language of people, the “Grand Bazaar”. Hadn’t my youth wandered in its streets? In many surnıners and many winters?
Of every event in the world, of every job and occupation, Of old masters, mature foremen, trained apprentices, Of gold and silver, tradesmen, dealers, and craftsmen, Of water and juice seli ers, Of each and every thing, And of the girls in need of dowry, It is the landless possession and the pale homeland of memories. But not of the wind, for it is closed on Sundays.
The roads and the lined up stores. The gates are at the en d of those roads. It has eighteen gates, While the gates of abundance are countless, And here, all the currency in the world is in circulation … From the narrow streets to the large avenues, Seeing them all is impossible. Almost three hundred shops on sixty one streets That’ s why, at each doorway, there isa night sun.
A little further heard tl1e screams from the Currency Market. I am entering to the Kalpakçılar Başı Street from the Nuruosmaniye gate. At tl1e sunny side of tl1e gate stands a bagel seller, Right next to it is the ice erearn of Maraş. The inside is gold like wall with the beads of evil eye … And shoulder to shoulder stand the jewelry stores, Some’s faces are frowned, Some sit on ben ch es in the front .. . -the so ur taste of the cherry sets the teeth on edge .. . Five hanging glasses and the joy of upcoming days Oh poet! In which sealed box are the days of your future? On which of its dusty shelves have I forgotten you, my youth? Here is Kalpakçılar Başı Street, a road among the roads of the Bazaar. Near is the Nuruosmaniye gate, and Beyazıt is further. It opens at 8:30 am, and closes at 7:00 pm. In mornings, the children open the gate with the water bottles in their hands In evenings, the unwritten shadow of an ended day.
On the right is Sandal Bedestan, I am passing by the South Gate, Along with the opening of Terzi Başı… Arıother street in the bazaar. The sign can not be read since the touristic goods cover its both faces. Takkeciler street. A b lind man stands at the beginning of the street. Then, Ressam Baskıcılar Street, after that is Kazazlar. So, we arrive at Sipahi street, it is a junction On the right is Sark kahvesi, on the left is Çarşıkapı On the comer of the summer, The latest albums are played in the music stores. On the com er of winter is an old fountain: Let your memories go with the sound of water …
The Grand Bazaar is the greatest plan e tree of İstanbul -Are you tired, poet? Have a seat at the Sark Kahvesi. A cup of tea, for the weariness of the day Arıother cup for the coil of memories.
Oh poet, on which tree’s shadow is your longing for your youth?
OktayRifat From the poem “1he history of a face” :
With the lights, from across, Thin for the present day, To the old veiled face, Your face is from the Grand Bazaar
It is a dusty-rose evening, The silk thread in the horse carriage With an umbrella, emerald, jade Now in the boats, the Göksu River,
Passes by with the sun and sea, by singing with the pigeons, Bedestan in a dream. Here, with the clouds and salts, White is in the palms of my shadow. And the history of a thousand years, W as just a minute ago?
Ahmet Muhip Dıranas From the poem “Raid”:
Do you think you can build it again? W e even lostour dreams: This is a scattered table, the feast is over. The stragglers had lost, just like us. How lonely we are in this night time There is not even a greeting to be heard: Now, we are like colorless tourists, You, in the Grand Bazaar, I, at the Bridge
Bilgin Adalı In the Grand Bazaar of İstanbul :
Thousands of closed gates of its, Get opened one by one: Dingggg! Rlza Usta with his little hammer, Engraves daisies with patience Onto a big beli, /who knows which boat it belongs/
At another gate, Ploffff! Surrounded by the hundreds of compiled carpets Rlza, the carpet dealer Spreads the farms of flowers and patterns Through the middle of his store.
Here, it is another gate: Ding, ding, ding! This is Rlza, the goldsmith. With a piece of gold His golden heart beats. What he embroiders, Are the patterns of his dreams?
At another gate, Dang, dang, dang, dinga ling! Rlza, the coppersmith, whose sweat drops, lnto the middle of the tray he beats. As his sweat vaporizes, The middle of the tray glitters.
Each moming, many gates are opened Many dreams is sprinkled around. From the hearts of thousands of Rlzas, In the Grand Bazaar of İstanbul, For a thousand years, lasters named Rlza, with their heated hearts, Seli their great efforts. Seli the reflections of thousands of hearts In each carpet In each jewelry In eachrug, In each antique. What sort of a heart is this? Which never empties, But, always fills … At the meeting point of the custom er and the seller, An unbelievable love lives.
Sezai Karakoç The Grand Bazaar
Tell them! Their pillows should not be shadowed, By the kisses of their chil dren. The rain falls down mutually, teli them! Mutually with the music in the souls. A cigarette in the Grand Bazaar A violin case, an oil for your hair. Teli them, what goes through their women’s eyes Is the Grand Bazaar and its times.
Darkness fılled with the smoke of a pearl necklace A mountain of heavy and unbearable words which to be Your image is lightened in the black brightness of the thinnecklace Half lightened from the si des and front, Dark behind but lightened inside. Tell them that people are not created ofwords and poems The day when the new world that comes in feathers Is as free as a chair Teli them that the day Friday is as sacred as freedom. They are the ones who expand and !essen my mill’or The ones who ruin my mirror. To the idea and the tmth in Grand Bazaars, What they did, you will realize. Lik:e umbrelias, The ones who open to the most playful disaster.
Teli them! Their pillows should not be covered, By the shadows of their friends over their women. In Grand Bazaars, The Poetry on tree barks written by lions. Inside the Grand Bazaar, The clear and sharp, soft and pleasant sound of Qur’an. Covered dream bazaars inside the Grand Bazaar Anger and mercy bazaars inside the Grand Bazaar.
When you went to the Grand Bazaar, You read the newspapers left after a fıre The Grand Bazaar was a long and bumed newspaper. A blue eyed newspaper. The cloud that is yours the most in the Grand Bazaar You, to me, the Grand Bazaar No doubt, there is so much that is sold anel bought. No doubt, with a crack of a map With a fake piece of sea, Coverecl is the Grand Bazaar.
Tell them! About the one that rains over the Grand Bazaar, That the rain is not good and right.