He is a translator, essayist and philosopher, opining on the current state of contemporary American poetry. Charles Simic who was born in 1938 is a Serbian American poet and former co-poetry editor of the Paris Review. He received the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1990 for The World Doesn't End, and was a finalist of the Pulitzer Prize in 1986 for Selected Poems, 1963-1983 and in 1987 for Unending Blues. He was elected to The American Academy of Arts and Letters in 1995, received the Academy Fellowship in 1998, and was elected a Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets in 2000. He was appointed the fifteenth Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress in 2007. In 2011, Simic was the recipient of the Frost Medal, presented annually for lifetime achievement in poetry.
ESERLERİUnending Blues: Poems (1986), The World Doesn't End (1989), The Book of Gods and Devils (1990), Hotel Insomnia (1992), A Wedding in Hell (1994), Walking the Black Cat (1996), Jackstraws: Poems (2000), The Voice at 3:00 A.M (2006), My Noiseless Entourage (2005), Sixty Poems (2008), Master of Disguises (2010), Confessions of a Poet Laureate (2010), The Monster Loves His Labyrinth (2012), Night Picnic: Poems (2012), New and Selected Poems, 1962–2012 (2013), The Life of Images (2015), The Lunatic (2015), Scribbled in the Dark (2017), Come Closer and Listen (2019), Acércate y escucha (2020).
Gerçek, göz kapaklarının altında karanlık
Bu konuda ne yapacaksın?
Kuşlar sessiz, soracak kimse yok.
Bütün gün gözlerini kısıp gri gökyüzüne bakacaksın.
Rüzgâr estiğinde sazlıklar gibi ürpereceksin.
Uysal bir küçük kuzu, yününü büyüttün
Kocaman makaslarla peşine düşülene dek.
Sinekler açık ağzın üzerinde uçuşup durdu,
Sonra onlar da uçup gitti yapraklar gibi,
Çıplak dallar arkalarından uzandılar, nafile.
Kış geliyor. Son kahraman askeri gibi
Yenilmiş bir ordunun, yerinde kalacaksın
Başın açık düşen ilk kar tanesine.
Bir komşu gelip sana bağırana dek
Sen havadan da delisin, Charlie.
The truth is dark under your eyelids.
What are you going to do about it?
The birds are silent; there's no one to ask.
All day long you'll squint at the gray sky.
When the wind blows you'll shiver like straw.
A meek little lamb you grew your wool
Till they came after you with huge shears.
Flies hovered over open mouth,
Then they, too, flew off like the leaves,
The bare branches reached after them in vain.
Winter coming. Like the last heroic soldier
Of a defeated army, you'll stay at your post,
Head bared to the first snow flake.
Till a neighbor comes to yell at you,
You're crazier than the weather, Charlie.