Poems of Mehmet Orhan

WITHOUT THE ROSE…
Mehmet Orhan

If the Creator had not created the rose—
could a human ever become a rose?
When a human truly becomes human,
could there be oppression?


Just think…
The earth is silent,
the sky is still—
yet the world is filled with cries…
Pain…
laments…
mothers beating their breasts in grief…
the sorrowful eyes of orphans…


They think no one heard—
yet everything was written…
Not even a single letter was lost
from the Divine Record…


The rose has not yet spoken…
the words are not yet complete…
If Truth has fallen silent,
the reckoning is not yet over…

Did you hear it?
Looğğ… loooğğ…
The Yama Mountains echo back…


O human—
with the thorn in your hand,
you make your own heart bleed…
then you ask,
“Why did the rose not bloom?”
The rose has not lost its fragrance—
you have forgotten how to breathe it in…


Mercy has not disappeared—
you have closed your heart…
You and I are mothers…
you and I are fathers…
there is no quarrel between us…


Come—
let us become roses in one body…
together with the roses,
let us reach Ene’l Hak — “I am the Truth”…

Let enmity disappear—
let friendship prevail…
At the end of every winter,
let spring come…
Let joy come…
let peace come, filled with hope…

If there is a Great Divine Assembly—
and there is…
one day everyone
will look into their own mirror…
No oppression will remain hidden,
no tear will be left unclaimed…
every reckoning
will find its rightful place…

And on that day—
the rose will speak…
the thorn will fall silent…
Humanity…
will remain
with its true face…





WHAT CAN THE ROSE DO?
Mehmet Orhan


May Allah forgive us.
When love ends, what can hatred do?
When the human being is gone, what can the soul do?
When sin is committed, what can oppression do?
Heaven is weeping—what can the rose do?


May Allah forgive us.
Memories have been erased, recollections buried,
tables are left deserted, hearths have gone cold,
the stones of the four walls stand silent,
the ember weeps, the ash weeps—
what can the rose do?


May Allah forgive us.
Forefathers have grown old, mothers and fathers have died,
aunts and elders of the family are no longer here,
pockets are empty, the granaries are sorrowful,
there is no fresh bread on the griddle—
what can the rose do?


May Allah forgive us.
The Creator gave us life, gave us spirit,
gave us light, water and bread,
gave us help, benevolence and mercy,
sent dove-winged angels across the boundless ocean,
gave us saints, grace and miracles—
what can the rose do?


May Allah forgive us.
Ene’l Hak — “I am the Truth,”
He gave us a head, a crown,
a cloak and an identity,
gave us reason and knowledge,
gave us decency, morality and spiritual wisdom,
and gave us trials and tribulations.
Yet you forgot goodness—
what can the rose do?


May Allah forgive us.
Look, we have forgotten—do not forget!
The wolf, the bird, the ant,
the dolphin in the waters,
the roaring wild lions,
the cocoon in every color and pattern,
the honeycomb, the bee and the honey—
He gave them all.
What can the rose do?

May Allah forgive us.
He adorned you and me,
gave us reason, conscience and compassion,
eyes, eyebrows, ears, a mouth and teeth,
feet to walk beneath the sun and moon,
hands to sow and harvest,
and a mind to read and write—
what can the rose do?


May Allah forgive us.
I heard, and I remained silent.
Now you too, be silent.
Rise to your feet; do not bend,
do not be crushed, do not grow weary.
Search, find, ask:
Where did you come from, and where are you going?
May your destination be Heaven.
Leave quarrels behind; love and embrace.
Eat, drink, smile; run toward tomorrow,
toward the one you love, toward your love.
What can the rose do?





SPEAK, YELLOW FLOWER
Mehmet Orhan

Your face opened in the morning dew,
The voice you hear is the honeybee’s song,
The essence you give turns to honey in the comb,
Yellow flower, make honey for the bee.


You own no riches, nor any estate,
With the sun begins each beautiful day,
In your brief life, your heart still smiles,
Yellow flower, tell us of patience.


As the bees circle gently around you,
Whisper your fragrance softly to the wind,
Let one drop of nectar become a cure for a thousand sorrows,
Yellow flower, make honey for the bee.


Today your face blooms; tomorrow you will fade,
You will return to the earth and rise again,
Leave one beautiful trace, and thus remain,
Yellow flower, tell us of life.


Yol Eri gazed deep into your heart,
And found a thousand meanings in one little flower,
The world comes and passes; goodness remains,
Yellow flower, tell us what it means to be human.


✍︎ Yol Eri • Poet-Writer from Arguvan, Türkiye: Mehmet Orhan
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