Nazim Hikmet, “On Living”


Living is no laughing matter:
you must live with great seriousness
like a squirrel, for example—
   I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,
I mean living must be your whole occupation.
Living is no laughing matter:
you must take it seriously,
so much so and to such a degree
   that, for example, your hands tied behind your back,
                                            your back to the wall,
   or else in a laboratory
in your white coat and safety glasses,
you can die for people—
   even for people whose faces you’ve never seen,
   even though you know living
is the most real, the most beautiful thing.
I mean, you must take living so seriously
   that even at seventy, for example, you’ll plant olive trees—
   and not for your children, either,
   but because although you fear death you don’t believe it,
   because living, I mean, weighs heavier.


Let’s say we’re seriously ill, need surgery—
which is to say we might not get up
from the white table.
Even though it’s impossible not to feel sad
about going a little too soon,
we’ll still laugh at the jokes being told,
we’ll look out the window to see if it’s raining,
or still wait anxiously
for the latest newscast…
Let’s say we’re at the front—
for something worth fighting for, say.
There, in the first offensive, on that very day,
we might fall on our face, dead.
We’ll know this with a curious anger,
        but we’ll still worry ourselves to death
        about the outcome of the war, which could last years.
Let’s say we’re in prison
and close to fifty,
and we have eighteen more years, say,
                        before the iron doors will open.
We’ll still live with the outside,
with its people and animals, struggle and wind—
                                I mean with the outside beyond the walls.
I mean, however and wherever we are,
        we must live as if we will never die.


This earth will grow cold,
a star among stars
               and one of the smallest,
a gilded mote on blue velvet—
 I mean this, our great earth.
This earth will grow cold one day,
not like a block of ice
or a dead cloud even 
but like an empty walnut it will roll along
 in pitch-black space…
You must grieve for this right now
—you have to feel this sorrow now—
for the world must be loved this much
                               if you’re going to say “I lived”…

(submitted by traviswtucker

  1. machakizi reblogged this from sharingpoetry
  2. huxxleyy reblogged this from sharingpoetry
  3. kucukcocuksendromu reblogged this from sharingpoetry
  4. nellasac reblogged this from sharingpoetry
  5. lady-fireborn reblogged this from sharingpoetry and added:
    "Yok öyle umutları yitirip karanlıkta savrulmak. Unutma; aynı gökyüzü altında, bir direniştir yaşamak.”
  6. thinline-between-saintsnsinners reblogged this from sharingpoetry
  7. spritofharrison reblogged this from sharingpoetry
  8. itisnoneofmybusiness reblogged this from sharingpoetry
  9. primeval-atom reblogged this from sharingpoetry
  10. jaiyana72 reblogged this from sharingpoetry and added:
    I love tumblr!
  11. thethornsofreality reblogged this from julesblackthorning
  12. julesblackthorning reblogged this from the-final-sentence
  13. a-flash-of-inspiration reblogged this from lissomesimplicity
  14. lesmartyrs reblogged this from growing-orbits
  15. i-killed-dobby reblogged this from booklover
  16. whimseycoll reblogged this from sharingpoetry
  17. organicallygrown reblogged this from booklover
  18. puellaperdita-archive reblogged this from sharingpoetry
  19. debechemode reblogged this from booklover
  20. neil3895 reblogged this from booklover
  21. lostadolescence reblogged this from the-final-sentence
  22. phalaenopsis-sanderiana reblogged this from jadeski
  23. jadeski reblogged this from puellaperdita-archive
  24. lissomesimplicity reblogged this from the-final-sentence
  25. sherlock-marple reblogged this from booklover