şükela:  tümü | bugün
  • güzel bir kısa öykü:

    a merchant in baghdad sends his servant to the marketplace for provisions. shortly, the servant comes home white and trembling and tells him that in the marketplace he was jostled by a woman, whom he recognized as death, and she made a threatening gesture. borrowing the merchant's horse, he flees at top speed to samarra, a distance of about 75 miles (125 km), where he believes death will not find him. the merchant then goes to the marketplace and finds death, and asks why she made the threatening gesture. she replies, "that was not a threatening gesture, it was only a start of surprise. i was astonished to see him in baghdad, for i had an appointment with him tonight in samarra."

    özetleyecek olursam; bagdatta bir tüccar vardır. tüccarın uşşağı vardır. uşağı bigün pazar yerine gönderir ıvır zıvır alsın diye. uşak geri döndüğünde uşşak makamında titremektedir. tüccar ne halt yediğini sorar. uşak da ölümü gördüm benim peşimde el kol hareketi çekiyo der. tüccarın atını alır samarraya basar gider. bunun üstüne uşşağına yamuk yapan ölümle konuşup aralarını yapmak için bazara gider tüccar paşa. ama işler öyle tüccar olmakla bitse ohoo. niye el kol hareketi yapıyon çocuğa, aynı mahallenin gençlerisiniz der. olüm de der ki, ben hareket çekmem onunla samarrada buluşacaktım ama burda görünce ne ayaksın diye sordum der. büyük ihtimal uşşak bu olay üzerine samarrada ölerek can verir.

    bi edebiyat eserinin de içine anca bu kadar sıçılır heralde :)... (bkz: dünyanın en yüzeysel adamı)
  • bir paul thomas saunders eseri.
    sözleri olmadan bile pek güzel, pek dokunaklı; sözlere dikkat edince safi ergen depresyonu..

    you have scars on your face from where he left you
    your blue eyes still aren't dry
    your hands have run through your blonde hair a thousand times
    you say you're going to samarra
    won't be back tomorrow
    you left a letter on the floor
    bread winners won't be baking anymore

    i've been wondering for awhile
    how records in your heart
    pull the brompton shakes apart

    the blood is in your hands
    the bodies on the ground around us
    make no future plans
    sever every bound that binds us
    that ties us

    there is blood on the clothes that you'd once wear for him
    was it worth the lace facade
    his hands you still feel round your waist on rainy days

    i've been wondering for awhile
    how records from your past
    make the brief encounters that last

    the blood is on your hands
    the bodies on the ground around us
    make no future plans
    sever every bound that binds us

    the blood is on your hands
    the bodies in the ground around us
    make no future plans
    sever every bound that binds us

    the blood is on your hands
    the bodies on the ground
    the blood is on your hands
    the bodies on the ground

    the blood is on your hands
    the bodies on the ground around us
    make no future plans
    sever every bound that binds us
  • sherlock 'un dördüncü sezon ilk bölümünde de kısa bir versiyonu bizzat sherlock yani benedict cumberbatch tarafından anlatılan güzel hikaye.