Yahya Azeroğlu: “MY HEART FRIEND MIRAC MORÇÖL”

Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού

Αφιέρωμα από τον Τούρκο ποιητή Yahya Azeroglu στον Τηλεοπτικό παραγωγό και δημοσιογράφο Mirac Morcol

MY HEART FRIEND MIRAC MORÇÖL

Another aspect of my dear heart friend, journalist and television producer Miraç Morçöl, who took his first step when he got off the Bandırma ship when Atatürk landed in Anatolia and lived in Samsun, the pearl of the Black Sea, is his poetry. We see all areas of life in his poems. Everyone who reads his poems finds a piece of themselves. Now I want to tell my readers about Miraç Bey’s poems and his biography. Let’s walk together in the time tunnel of my dear poet friend Miraç Morçöl,

Miraç Morçöl Samsun: He was born in Samsun on 01.08.1962. He studied primary school, secondary school, high school, and Anadolu University Business Administration Department in Samsun. Influenced by a journalist brother, he stepped into journalism in Ankara Başkent Newspaper in 1983. Then, in 1984, he started working as a reporter and writer in Samsun 19 Mayıs magazine. When he was offered an offer, he worked as a news reporter in Anadolu News Agency. He took a break from journalism for a long time and started his business life. He managed his own delicatessen and restaurant in Samsun. He served as a manager in Soba and Advertising Marketing companies. In 1985, he served as Commander’s Post, Company Printer and Company Training Program Printer as Infantry Sergeant Miraç MORÇÖL in Istanbul. After military service, he worked as a marketer and manager in a foreign advertising company. Due to the closure of the company, he worked as a document registration and personnel chief in Samsun DLH Machine Supply Chief Engineering in 1993. He got married in the same year and is the father of a daughter. He established his own advertising agency while working in DLH Machine Supply Chief Engineering. He signed various tenders in Samsun and Kayseri provinces and signed advertising projects that were never done. He retired from DLH Machine Supply Chief Engineering in 2008 due to the intensity of advertising work. Miraç Morçöl Samsun: (Journalist, Poet-Author) TV Program Producer, Moderator, Samsun Mega News Concessionaire, Editor-in-Chief, Advertising and Marketing Trainer Samsun Artists Association Secretary General, Member of İLESAM (Scientific and Literary Work Owners Professional Association)
POETRY BOOK: Wait, I Will Come Nezkam (2022)

LONGING FOR MY MOTHER

My night bird.

Breaking the silence
In the acorn tree,
My nesting nightingale.
A mother’s longing.
My window is open for you.
I look for your scent.
Your melodies are inside my room.
A friend to my loneliness.
You read me the poem Ergünüm.
Coming from the lady of heaven
The mujgan of my eyes.
The voice of my silence.
And sometimes
My pheasant’s voice comes in between
Your scream tears
The mourning of the night.
That’s when
All the silence is broken.
My pain mixes with my pain.
As if the leaves of the trees
Whisper to me about my mother.
My nightingale in the acorn tree.
I also open the curtain.
With a mother’s pain
I look.
A full moon in the sky
Illuminates my shattered heart.
And I, who lost my childhood,
From the cemetery two hundred meters away,
I feel the smell of pine trees;
My mother’s smell,
With the smell of pine,
I try to breathe it in with my tears.

Sometimes I go to her.
I share my troubles.

I give life water to her soil and flowers.

My mother warms the coldness of the night.

I never get cold.

Some nights,
We welcome the morning dawn
Together.
Sometimes you go to your house,
You come to visit me,
We watch TV together,
You land on my shoulder like a butterfly,
You caress my back.
Sometimes when I wake up in the morning,
You watch me next to me.

You see me crying a lot,
You enter my dreams and
You tell me that I am crying.

The order of the house is the same
I have not made any changes.

When you come,
In case you cannot find what you are looking for,
Everything is in its place.
Why did you go, Mom?
It was so painful to be without you,
In my childhood,
It went with you, mom.
Your gift is in prayer beads,
The sweater you sewed is on me,
Now I am not afraid at all.
When God is eternal,
He will meet me there,
He will cover me when I get cold,
He will tell me to wear his slippers,
He will pray behind my back,
He will hold my outstretched hand next to my grave,
A heavenly Lady,
My mother exists…

Miraç MORÇÕL 31.05.2022

I THINK OF YOU

Like a street bum
I am in the twilight.

I am in the narrow streets
Carrying the faint traces of the past
In my heart.

On the nights I can’t say I love you

To wish you good night,
Perhaps a full moon
Or a street lamp illuminates

On the thick stones laid among the sand
I walk staggering.

I am looking for you
I am not drunk.

Perhaps I am drunk with your absence, loneliness.

Perhaps I am dreaming of our last night.

Or I am
Drunk with a dream.

Like a naughty child
I loved you
Without dreams, silently.
But madly
Oh woman.
The black and white of my dreams,
I have never seen you in color
Do you know?
How should I imagine you now?
In a foggy train station?
Or,
Our feet are bare
On a seaside?
Or in a hotel room
In my bosom?
What difference does it make.
No trace left.
From you and me
Your face has disappeared
From my eyes.
Deprived
of my feelings, my emotions.
From you, from us.
Now
Washed up on the shore
On the pier of an old Baltic flag
ship
In the dusk
My eyes are lost.
Here, like that Granada
Evening
I think of you…