To think myself happy I don't need a piece of paper or a pen; A cigarette dangling between my fingers I enter the blue Of the painting on the wall. I enter it, the sea pulls me, It pulls me, the world snares me; Is there something like alcohol, Alcohol in the air, Making me mad, making me sad? I can recognize a lie When I see it; It's a lie that I became a boat; The coolness of water on my ribs Is a lie, The wind on the watchtower's a lie, The motorboat which has been chugging along For weeks... Nevertheless, I can still spend, still spend Beautiful days In this blue, Like the watermelon rind swimming in the sea, Like the reflection of the tree in the sky, Like the fog which envelops the plum trees in the morning, The fog, the mist, the love, the smells... II. Neither paper nor pencil Can make me think myself happy. I'll say it again, This is nonsense I'm not a ship. I must be in a definite, definite Place Unlike the rind of watermelon Or light or fog or mist... Like a human being.
Orhan Veli Translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat, 1989