A poet, writer and editor, Cevdet Karal was born in Of, Trabzon. His first poetry collections of Horozlu Ayna ve Ölüm (A Mirror Embellished with a Rooster) and Hilkatin İlk Günleri (The First Days of Creation) were published respectively in 1998 and 2006 (by Kaknüs). In 2015 his poetry book containing a book long poem called Cesedi Nereye Gömelim (Where Shall We Bury the Dead Body) met its readers by Everest Publishing. Between 1997 and 2004 he served as one of the founders and editors of the literary-culture magazine Kaşgar. Karal was awarded in 2015 with the Necil Fazıl Poetry Prize.
THE DEAD BODY IN THE GARDEN OF THE FACULTY OF THEOLOGY The dead body on grass Messieurs, they were strangled Possible by a cravat worn By esteemed professors With their bellies looking like a speech bubble While flying to London for a symposium I show you that dead body The barbed wire separating the mosque from the garden God disguised as a lord If only he would sneak in through the security Or a preacher of a town Approved by the Religious Affairs Administration Benefit receipts are being held in his hand They will bury him in a respected Encyclopedia Alongside with two old assistant professors And only just The letters to be red after the rain Only just A few words to be inscribed By the students freshly arrived from the countryside Like the thinking man sculpture On the cement bench they perched Anyway it looks like a tombstone The poets I have thrown to the Earth With their craziness aptitude They are astonished Believe me Dancing folks with their elongated tongues The ones with their shirts of buttoned collars And the ones assassinating metaphysics on the steps And the fellows gathered trying to crucify The ones who enter the field of contest without their fathers The wise whose heads are as big as The footnote asteriks Get them and drag them Oh the confused, I am talking to you Let hang them with their cravats Like a shrine bound with rags On the Bosphorus Bridge We collected signatures The sinners talk about an imminent amnesty Allah is in our mind like a bistoury forgotten by surgeons The Trump of Doom, with the permission of Allah Shall be blown from the building of the Office of the Dean Though for me I had lived a life speeded up with the spilled blood The choppers scratched by six knives are of modesty The sole breath I gave interpreted favorably the fact that I live There remains a question in the temple of the cognizant To be unable to satisfy their desire The dead body was found Cevdet Karal English Translation by Mesut Şenol