If half my heart is here, doctor, <br /> the other half is in China <br />with the army flowing <br /> toward the Yellow River. <br />And, every morning, doctor, <br />every morning at sunrise my heart <br /> is shot in Greece. <br />And every night,c doctor, <br />when the prisoners are asleep and the infirmary is deserted, <br />my heart stops at a run-down old house <br /> in Istanbul. <br />And then after ten years <br />all i have to offer my poor people <br />is this apple in my hand, doctor, <br />one read apple: <br /> my heart. <br />And that, doctor, that is the reason <br />for this angina pectoris-- <br />not nicotine, prison, or arteriosclerosis. <br />I look at the night through the bars, <br />and despite the weight on my chest <br />my heart still beats with the most distant stars. <br /> <br /> <br />Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk (1993) <br /><br />Nazim Hikmet<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/angina-pectoris/
