ITT: We post and review God-tier prose >"And here I

>>8448693

good shit, nig.

>>8448693
Who is this written by?

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>>8448700

It's a rough translation of some of Yasar Kemal's early short fiction.

>>8448693
>“But at the end when the elbows and hands and bottom and knees came free, slip, blip, grind no bump—and she only much later thought of the gunk draining out then, and nothing seemed to matter except the glistening baby that was younger than last month and was a baby beyond boy or girl, beyond not before, and then without strangeness nothing at all for quite a long moment seemed to matter—or be between them—not even the baby that was O.K., she’d looked at her husband behind the young doctor’s hands and she found tears on her husband’s seedy unshaven cheeks, tears from the wonderful vagueness in his eyes and on his forehead too, as if he had wept upward into his thick, bristly hair. But later she remembered what she could remember, as if she might have receded into her own breathing and part of her was never to be seen again, and knew he told the truth when he said it hurt him to see her in pain, and then she recalled those tears upon his forehead and saw that of course they were sweat."

>>8448693
>“Sniffer of carrion, premature gravedigger, seeker of the nest of evil in the bosom of a good word, you, who sleep at our vigil and fast for our feast, you with your dislocated reason, have cutely foretold, a jophet in your own absence, by blind poring upon your many scalds and burns and blisters, impetiginous sore and pustules, by the auspices of that raven cloud, your shade, and by the auguries of rooks in parlament, death with every disaster, the dynamatisation of colleagues, the reducing of records to ashes, the levelling of all customs by blazes, the return of a lot of sweetempered gunpowdered didst unto dudst but it never stphruck your mudhead's obtundity (O hell, here comes our funeral! O pest, I'll miss the post!) that the more carrots you chop, the more turnips you slit, the more murphies you peel, the more onions you cry over, the more bullbeef you butch, the more mutton you crackerhack, the more potherbs you pound, the fiercer the fire and the longer your spoon and the harder you gruel with more grease to your elbow the merrier fumes your new Irish stew.”

It's been a prevalent notion. Fallen sparks. Fragments of vessels broken at the Creation. And someday, somehow, before the end, a gathering back to home. A messenger from the Kingdom, arriving at the last moment. But I tell you there is no such message, no such home -- only the millions of last moments . . . nothing more. Our history is an aggregate of last moments.

>>8448790
>>8448693

OH fuck fellow Turknigga

God tier turkprose coming through

Tutunamayan (disconnectus erectus): beceriksiz ve korkak bir hayvandır. İnsan boyunda olanları bile vardır. İlk bakışta, dış görünüşüyle, insana benzer. Yalnız, pençeleri ve özellikle tırnakları çok zayıftır. Dik arazide, yokuş yukarı hiç tutunamaz. Yokuş aşağı, kayarak iner. (Bu arada sık sık düşer). Tüyleri yok denecek kadar azdır. Gözleri çok büyük olmakla birlikte, görme duygusu zayıftır. Bu nedenle tehlikeyi uzaktan göremez.

Erkekleri, yalnız bırakıldıkları zaman acıklı sesler çıkarırlar. Dişilerini de aynı sesle çağırırlar. Genellikle başka hayvanların yuvalarında (onlar dayanabildikleri sürece) barınırlar. Ya da terkedilmiş yuvalarda yaşarlar. Belirli bir aile düzenleri yoktur. [...]

Din kitapları, bu hayvanları yemeyi yasaklamışsa da, gizli olarak avlanmakta ve etleri kaçak olarak satılmaktadır. Tutunamayanları avlamak çok kolaydır. Anlayışla bakışlarla süzerseniz, hemen yaklaşırlar size. Ondan sonra tutup öldürmek işten değildir. İnsanlara zararlı bazı mikroplar taşıdıkları tespit edildiğinden, Belediye Sağlık Müdürlüğü de tutunamayan kesimini yasak etmiştir. Yemekten sonra insanlarda görülen durgunluk, hafif sıkıntı, sebebi bilinmeyen vicdan azabı ve hiç yoktan kendini suçlama gibi duygulara sebep oldukları, hekimlerce ileri sürülmektedir. [...]

Başları daima öne eğik gezdikleri için, çeşitli engellere takılırlar ve her tarafları yara bere içinde kalır. Onları bu durumda gören bazı yufka yürekli insanlar, tutunamayanları ev hayvanı olarak beslemeyi de denemişler. Fakat insanlar arasında barınmaları – ev düzenine uyamamaları nedeniyle – çok zor olmaktadır. Beklenmedik zamanlarda sahiplerine saldırmakta ve evden kovulunca da bir türlü gitmeyi bilmemektedir. Evin kapısında günlerce, acıklı sesleriyle bağırarak ev sahibini canından bezdirmektedirler. [...] (2)

>>8448875
This is god-awful. I've been reading nothing but Greek and Roman classics for six months and my mind retches when I feed it this. Is this maximalism? Postmodernism? I wish it would die soon. Vain hope: I'll probably die before it.

>>8449372
This is better. Poetry-like. Shorter sentences, too. I like that. Maybe I'm too stupid for dragging sentences? Might be. Hm.

>>8448891
If only he'd give up his conflated, mixed-up made-up words. But then, could one tell it was him?

>>8449398
Turkish sounds brutish, yet melodic. I don't know a word of it but I've learned to read it and I think I'm getting the phonetics right when I read this to myself. When spoken by a man it sounds like ordering something with meat at a take-away or boasting about humiliating an enemy to a few friends over tea. When spoken by a woman I hear my grandma scolding me. I wish I could speak it.

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>>8449684
>Turkish sounds brutish, yet melodic. I don't know a word of it but I've learned to read it and I think I'm getting the phonetics right when I read this to myself. When spoken by a man it sounds like ordering something with meat at a take-away or boasting about humiliating an enemy to a few friends over tea. When spoken by a woman I hear my grandma scolding me.

>>8449684
As someone whose mother tongue is Turkish, I honestly don't know how it sounds from the outside but that sounds about right

> But one transparent blue morning, when a stillness almost preternatural spread over the sea, however unattended with any stagnant calm; when ht long burnished sun-glade on the waters seemed a golden finger laid across them, enjoying some secrecy; when the slippered waves whispered together as they softly ran on; in this profound hush of the visible sphere a strange spectre was seen by Daggoo from the main-mast-head
> In the distance, a great white mass lazily rose, and rising higher and higher, and disentangling itself from the azure, at last glistening for a moment, as slowly it subsided, and sank. Then once more arose, and silently gleamed. It seemed not a whale; and yet is this Moby Dick? thought Dagoo. Again the phantom went down, but on re-appearing once more, with a stiletto-like cry that startled every man from his nod, the negro yelled out- "There! there again! there she breaches! right ahead! The White Whale, the White Whale!"
How the FUCK does he do it

Farewell my
love,
she says,
while ol´ Ben is
shaking loudly, and
girls are
screaming their lungs out
at nobody in particular, and
the sky is roaring
with fireworks
but there are no colors, and
boys are outside
marching
in the parade, but no one is
smiling, and
farewell my
love,
she says,
and daddy´s
gone.