PROF.DR.ULUÐ, NUTKU ET SON POEME-1

Dr Ali KILIC

Paris le 04-01-2008

 

Prof.Dr..ULUÐ,NUTKU

 

Prof.Dr Uluð  Nutku, était mon professeur de philosophie à l’Université de Constantinople.Il est toujours un grand philosophe et un  ami introuvable pour moi et  qui m’ a porté son soutien et sa solidarité humaine  au moment où, j’étais  engagé dans la résistance anti-fasciste et anti-colonialiste date à la quelle  l’armée turque a pris le pouvoir  le 12 mars 1971. Dans les conditions de clandestinités très dure, j’ai porté des fleurs  à l’aéroport  de Yesilkoy  au moment où notre Professeur de Philosophie  Mr Takiyettin Mesgucoglu qui  partait en la RFA  pour  des  raisons médicales  en fèvrier 1972 en présence de Duysal et du Prof Ulug Nutku et Mme Tomris Mengusoglu, Dr Tuten Ang.

 

C’était le 28 avril 1973 que J’ai été arrêté à Kothcgiri par l’Armée turque suite à une dénonciation et emprisonné  dans la prison militaire de Diyarbekir et jugé par le Tribunal Militaire de l’Etat de Siège avec les autres 96 militants Kurtdes . Après ma libération  j’ai passé le concours  en novembre 1976 et en 1977 nous  nous sommes rencontrés à Ankara au moment où j’ai été maître de Conférence au Département de Philosophie à l’Université de Hacette au moment où il passait sa thèse de  l’habilitation.Après son examen réussi, il m’a donné ses manuscrits lors de notre rencontre en 1979 avant mon départ en France .

 

Suite à la descente des forces armées turques  le 24 janvier 1984  dans mon docicile à Ankara  mon épouse  s’est arretée  avec les 320 volumes de mes  livres saisis par la police politique turque dans mon domicile y compris  les manuscrits   du Professeur  NUTKU, ont été confisqué  par la police politique turque  mis aux feux  par la décision du  Tribunal  Militaire de l’Etat de Siège d’Ankara  en fèvrier 1984.

 

Après vingt neuf ans  d’exil, il a publié un livre  de la poésie philosophique et historique intitulé UR,URUK,URÞU, et il m’ a dédié l’un de ses  poèmes ce qui représente pour moi, un honneur un très grand en souvenir de nos discussions philosophiques  dans le Cabinet de notre Prof.Dr. T. Menguçoglu face à la beauté de la Mer  Marmara.Je m’incline devant sa geste et je lui présente mes fleurs du Kurdistan à l’eschange du Chant Kurde comme les souvenirs de la Berceuse Kurde d’Aram Khatchatourian.

 

                                                         Dr Ali KILIC, Paris le 04-01-2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

     FLYING  HIGH  AND  LOW

 

                                         -Ballad of the Kurd-   

                                                                                    for Ali Kýlýç

                

                  Xenophon’s army, lost on the mountains, searched a passage to reach the Black sea. Two Kurds were captured and  interrogated. The first did not speak and was immediately killed. The second described the passage. Asked why the first did not speak, he replied: There is a village there. The village is near the passage. His newly married daughter lives  in that  village.

 

                 The leader is Sun-Yat-Sen. The policeman was taking him, by train, to the city where he  would be interregoted and naturally shot for treason to the State.   The leader told him that the aim of the revolution was to end the misery of the people. The policeman let him go and then shot himself on the spot. 

 

 

 

He is a Kurd living on the eastern side

                                of his hairy mountain

In the west he has a daughter married in a magic mould

                                of wet white clay.

He goes to her every morning

                                parting breath and breeze

And tells his wife in the evening tapping at his knees

                                the wonderful news of day.

 

He rubs his eyes the next morning

                                distrusting his sight

For up comes an array of thousands

                                he knows not to count

And thousands may be another ten

                                which he did not see

                                rubbing his eyes.                                                              

 

They ask him with signs

                                the shortest way to sea  

Never heard of it he means but thinks

                                these may be the winged men

Flying atop the hills faster than a bird 

                                but they say he’s a liar

Seeing him flap his fears        

                                to give them enough reason

For arrangement of spears.

 

A fellow Kurd knows better                                     

                                did he really know

And show them the the road they search

                                none could ever say

Being in array

                       the magic mould             

                                                   of wet white clay.

 

Twenty-three centuries later

                                according to certain texts

The Kurd was seen again

                                flying atop the hills

Like the winged man he had

                                so intensely thought

Landing on China.

 

He is a Chinese a policeman

                                riding in a train of bones

And by his side sits the leader

                                the man he had caught and tied            

For a change

                      of reason.                                               

 

They look out of the window                                  

                                at lines and poles nearing by           

Humanity and the like

                                a new era for their voice

And according to leader

                                also for the meaning they own

He talks to him about

                                the freedom of the bone.

 

Taking out of his pocket

                                a worn-out identity     

Of disbelief and belief

                                loaded at each station

The policeman checks the time

                               

                                and lets the leader go                                                        2

Without a word for hint

                                             or a sign of solution

Then shoots himself in his compartment

                                taking an upright hike

All the while perplexing alike

                                the pros and cons of revolution.

 

 

Research was done on his origin

                                during the recent years

Some say he began work as a Hittite

                                scribing wishes for all           

Then he worked a while for Pharoah

                                growing incredibly tall.

 

He may have had other jobs

                                which we do not know

But was seen again lately

                                this time as a newborn child   

Flying over the fields of rice

                                flowing high and low 

In Vietnam.

 

 

Then betwixt two rivers here

                                as observes reported

A most recent news

                                written in the world wide web

Strolling among the clouds

                                the babe seems very cute

With a balloon in one hand

                                in the other parachute.

 

                                                                          Prof.Dr.  Uluð  Nutku

 

 

 

 

 

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