Comrades, if I don't live to see the day 
-- I mean,if I die before freedom comes -- 
take me away 
and bury me in a village cemetery in Anatolia. 

The worker Osman whom Hassan Bey ordered shot 
can lie on one side of me, and on the other side 
the martyr Aysha, who gave birth in the rye 
and died inside of forty days. 

Tractors and songs can pass below the cemetery -- 
in the dawn light, new people, the smell of burnt gasoline, 
fields held in common, water in canals, 
no drought or fear of the police. 

Of course, we won't hear those songs: 
the dead lie stretched out underground 
and rot like black branches, 
deaf, dumb, and blind under the earth. 

But, I sang those songs 
before they were written, 
I smelled the burnt gasoline 
before the blueprints for the tractors were drawn. 

As for my neighbors, 
the worker Osman and the martyr Aysha, 
they felt the great longing while alive, 
maybe without even knowing it. 

Comrades, if I die before that day, I mean 
-- and it's looking more and more likely --  
bury me in a village cemetery in Anatolia, 
and if there's one handy, 
              a plane tree could stand at my head, 
              I wouldn't need a stone or anything. 

                                             Moscow, Barviha Hospital 


Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk (1993) 

 
Camarades, si je ne vis pas pour voir le jour 
-- je veux dire, si je meurs avant que la liberté vienne -- m'enlever 
et m'enterrer dans un cimetière de village dans Anatolia. 

L'ouvrier Osman que le projectile commandé par Bey de Hassan peut se 
trouver d'un côté de moi, et de l'autre côté le martyre Aysha, qui 
a donné naissance dans le seigle et est mort à l'intérieur de de 
quarante jours. 

Les tracteurs et les chansons peuvent passer au-dessous du cimetière 
-- dans la lumière d'aube, les nouvelles personnes, l'odeur de 
l'essence brûlée, les domaines tenus en commun, l'eau dans des 
canaux, aucune sécheresse ou la crainte de la police. 

Naturellement, nous n'entendrons pas ces chansons: le souterrain et 
la putréfaction dehors étirée par mensonge mort aiment les branches 
noires, les sourds, sourds-muets, et l'abat-jour sous la terre. 

Mais, j'ai chanté  chansons avant qu'ils aient été écrits, j'ai 
senti l'essence brûlée avant que les modèles pour les tracteurs 
aient été dessinés. 

Quant à mes voisins, à l'ouvrier Osman et au martyre Aysha, ils ont 
senti le grand désir ardent tandis que vivants, peut-être sans le 
savoir même. 

Des camarades, si je meurs avant ce jour, je veux dire 
-- et lui regarde de plus en plus plus probablement -- m'enterrer dans 
un cimetière de village dans Anatolia, et s'il y a d'un à portée de 
la main, un arbre plat pourrait se tenir à ma tête, je n'aurais 
besoin de pierre ou de rien. 

                                             Moscou, Hôpital De Barviha 


Transport. par Randy Blasing et Mutlu Konuk (1993) 

 
Kameraden, wenn ich nicht lebe, um den Tag zu sehen 
-- ich bedeute, wenn ich sterbe, bevor Freiheit kommt -- mich 
wegnehmen und mich in einem Dorfkirchhof in Anatolia begraben. 

Der Arbeiter Osman, den Hassan Bey bestellter Schuß auf einer Seite 
von mir liegen kann und auf der anderen Seite der Märtyrer Aysha, der 
Geburt im Roggen gab und innerhalb vierzig Tage starb. 

Traktoren und Liede können unter den Kirchhof überschreiten -- im 
Dämmerunglicht, fangen neue Leute, der Geruch des gebrannten 
Benzins, gehalten im Common, im Wasser in den Kanälen, in keiner 
Dürre oder in der Furcht vor der Polizei auf. 

Selbstverständlich hören wir nicht jene Liede: der tote Lüge 
ausgedehnte heraus Untergrund und die Fäule mögen schwarze 
Niederlassungen, die tauben, stumme und Vorhang unter der Masse. 

Aber, ich sang jene Liede, bevor sie geschrieben wurden, ich roch das 
gebrannte Benzin, bevor die Blaupausen für die Traktoren gezeichnet 
wurden. 

Was meine Nachbarn, den Arbeiter Osman und den Märtyrer anbetrifft 
Aysha, glaubten sie der großen Sehnsucht, wenn lebendig, 
möglicherweise, ohne sie sogar zu kennen. 

Kameraden, wenn ich vorher diesen Tag sterbe, bedeute ich 
-- und es schaut mehr und wahrscheinlicher -- mich in einem 
Dorfkirchhof in Anatolia begraben, und wenn es handliches eins gibt, 
könnte ein flacher Baum an meinem Kopf stehen, würde ich nicht einen 
Stein oder nichts benötigen. 

                                             Moskau, Barviha Krankenhaus 


Transport. durch Randy Blasing und Mutlu Konuk (1993) 

 
Camaradas, se eu não viver para ver o dia 
-- eu significo, se eu morrer antes que a liberdade venha -- 
remover-me e enterrar-me em um cemetery da vila em Anatolia. 

O trabalhador Osman quem o tiro requisitado Bey de Hassan pode se 
encontrar em um lado de mim, e no outro lado o martyr Aysha, que deu o 
nascimento no centeio e morreu dentro de quarenta dias. 

Os tratores e as canções podem passar abaixo do cemetery -- na luz 
do alvorecer, nos povos novos, no cheiro da gasolina queimada, nos 
campos prendidos na terra comum, na água nos canais, na nenhuma seca 
ou no medo das polícias. 

Naturalmente, nós não ouviremos aquelas canções: mentira 
inoperante o subterrâneo e o rot para fora esticado gostam de filiais 
pretas, o surdos, dumb, e de cortina sob a terra. 

Mas, eu cantei aquelas canções antes que estiveram escritos, mim 
cheirei a gasolina queimada antes que os blueprints para os tratores 
estiveram extraídos. 

Quanto para a meus vizinhos, ao trabalhador Osman e ao martyr Aysha, 
sentiram o longing grande quando vivos, talvez sem mesmo sabê-lo. 

Camaradas, se eu morrer antes esse dia, eu significo 
-- e ele está olhando mais e mais provavelmente -- enterrar-me em um 
cemetery da vila em Anatolia, e se houvesse um acessível, uma árvore 
plana poderia estar em minha cabeça, eu não necessitaria uma pedra 
ou qualquer coisa. 

                                             Moscow, Hospital De Barviha 


Transporte. por Randy Blasing e Mutlu Konuk (1993) 

 
Camaradas, si no vivo para ver el día 
-- significo, si muero antes de que venga la libertad -- eliminarme y 
enterrarme en un cementerio de la aldea en Anatolia. 

El trabajador Osman a que el tiro pedido Bey de Hassan puede mentir en 
un lado de mí, y en el otro lado el martyr Aysha, que dio a luz en el 
centeno y murió dentro de cuarenta días. 

Los tractores y las canciones pueden pasar debajo del cementerio -- en 
la luz del amanecer, la nueva gente, el olor de la gasolina quemada, 
los campos llevados a cabo en campo común, el agua en canales, 
ninguna sequía o el miedo del policía. 

Por supuesto, no oiremos esas canciones: hacia fuera el subterráneo y 
la putrefacción estirada mentira muerta tienen gusto de ramas negros, 
el sordos, mudos, y de la persiana debajo de la tierra. 

Pero, canté esas canciones antes de que fueran escritos, yo olía la 
gasolina quemada antes de que los modelos para los tractores fueran 
dibujados. 

En cuanto a mis vecinos, al trabajador Osman y al martyr Aysha, 
sentían el gran longing mientras que esta'n vivos, quizá sin incluso 
saberlo. 

Los camaradas, si muero antes ese día, significo 
-- y él está mirando más y más probablemente -- enterrarme en un 
cementerio de la aldea en Anatolia, y si hay uno práctico, un árbol 
plano podría estar parado en mi cabeza, no necesitaría una piedra o 
cualquier cosa. 

                                             Moscú, Hospital De Barviha 


Transporte. por Randy Blasing y Mutlu Konuk (1993) 

(These are public search results on the terms: 'Nazim Hikmet: Last Will And Testament poem')

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  red as fire! / My honey is my everything. / I guard / my riches and my real-estate / – my honey pot, I mean – / from pests of every species, / Brother, just wait… / As long as I've got / honey in my pot, / bees will come to it / from Timbuktu.

(These are public search results on the terms: 'Nazim Hikmet: Last Will And Testament poem')