Konyak [English translation]

I’d fallen down from great height

I’d rolled on the road

Came here and searched for you

Overcame my walls.

Hadn’t seen you for ten years

When you invited me to your home,

Late at night, as if all fountains took off.

I walked, then took a cab.

It was midnight, to my surprise,

As I opened the door

"Panoramica coma di hellfire!"

Will brandy and coffee make love?

Will their love drive us crazy?

Will the crackling firewood drive us to frenzy?

Will love spring between us?

Will my vagabond ways suffocate you?

Will my eyelashes shoot like arrows into your heart and stay there?

Will he pamper me?

Will we have children?

Will he pick stars from the sky for me?

No, no way, this cannot be!1

As you set out on that road, I’d already returned.

No, no way, impossible!

I’d had enough of these games.

No, no way, this cannot be!

This is not the end, but only a beginning.

No, no way, impossible!

Such things do not happen even in cheap novels.

I guess you had feelings for me too.

You’d revived a dying fire.

You’d been upset by me when you switched to Azerbaijani TV.

Desire was running silent and deep.

My lips were on fire, burning.

Coffee was cooking on the stove.

I turned to look

Took the knife from its place

Wandered around your neck and so

If you ever hurt me, I will be your demise.

No, no way, this cannot be!

As you set out on that road, I’d already returned.

No, no way, impossible!

I’d had enough of these games.

No, no way, this cannot be!

This is not the end, but only a beginning.

No, no way, impossible!

Such things do not happen even in cheap novels.

"Panoramica coma di hellfire!"

No, no way, this cannot be!

As you set out on that road, I’d already returned.

No, no way, impossible!

I’d had enough of these games.

No, no way!

1. This phrase requires explanation. From early 1940’s until late 1990’s, Turkish movies have always been shot without live sound recording, mainly because of inevitable budget cuts. Hence, all movies were dubbed. One of the prominent male dubbing artists was Abdurrahman Palay, who dubbed several leading actors for decades. One day, possibly in late 1960’s, a strange thing happened in a regular dubbing session. In one scene, Mr Palay had to say, “hayır, olamaz”, which means, “no, this cannot be." However, the recording engineer was not satisfied at all, because on tape it morphed to “nayır, nolamaz.” (It must have been a melodrama. Melodramas have always been popular with the audience; usually following similar storylines, generously sprinkled with extreme misfortune and reversal of fortune.) They tried to record that short sentence again and again. Surely, Mr Palay was pronouncing correctly, but the tape always played the same, “nayır, nolamaz.” Was it the way he breathed just before saying the words, or was it the trick of a lo-fi microphone, no one could figure out. Finally, they gave up and left it as it is, “nayır, nolamaz.” After the incident, that sentence got repeatedly mispronounced in other films and gradually became sort of a mocking, ridiculing catchphrase for all of these melodramas, irrational misfortune in particular.