THE STEPS

I want to write a poem of one of my favourite poets today . This poem has a nice memory from my university years. It was the second term of the second year . Everybody suggested me not to get American literature in the second term for the first time . Because of time limit I wasnt allowed to take it in the first term . So I was taking a risk in older students opinion. The more I listened to their negative ideas the more I was attracted by my idea. I was listening to the lessons carefully at the beginning . I was afraid of making their thoughts come true.That day we were studying Herman Melville and symbolism and and the teacher asked the class who was the famous symbolist Turkish writer or poet. I waited for a while When noone answered correctly I said Ahmet Hasim . Then he asked me if I could give an hour of seminar the following week. It was a great chance for me . I was going to tell about my favourite poet and his poems but It was stressfull of course. All age and class groups were going to listen to me. I enjoyed reading three books I borrowed from Turkish literature students. The big day came The teacher asked to tell the subject at his desk and he sat on a chair by the window. His desk was on a high platform I was holding the desk tightly to get over my excitement for a few minutes but getting prepared well and knowing the subject better than everybody there helped me to forget in a few seconds . Then the teacher asked me to tell about one more poem he chose . The mission was completed successfully. By the way I have never ever failed from American literature class. it was one of my best classes.
THE STEPS
Step by step you will walk up in these stairs,
With a heap of sun-coloured leaves around your skirt,
And for a while you 'll stare into the sky, weeping and hurt.

The water's turned pallid, your face is growing paler too
Behold the scarlet heavens, evening's creeping on you ...

Bent to earth, constantly sheds tears of blood the rose;
Blood-red nightingales have perched on branches like flares,
Is the water on fire; why does marble resemble bronze?

It is a secret tongue which fills the soul anew
Behold the scarlet heavens, evening's creeping upon you...
AHMET HASIM