第24部分(第6/7 頁)

of　their　bodies；　faces　the　book　lover　who　happens　to

be　gazing　at　the　magnificent　painting。　If　I　do　have　style　and　character；　it’s　not

only　hidden　in　my　artwork；　but　in　my　crime　and　in　my　words　as　well！　Yes；　try

to　discover　who　I　am　from　the　color　of　my　words！

I； too； know that if you catch me； it’ll bring consolation to unfortunate

Elegant　Effendi’s　miserable　soul。　They’re　shoveling　dirt　on　him　as　I　stand　here

beneath　trees；　amid　chirping　birds；　watching　the　gilded　waters　of　the　Golden

Horn　and　the　leaden　domes　of　Istanbul；　and　discovering　anew　how　wonderful

it　is　to　be　alive。　Pathetic　Elegant　Effendi；　soon　after　he　joined　the　circle　of　that

fierce…browed　preacher　from　Erzurum；　he　stopped　liking　me　pletely；　yet；　in

the twenty…five years that we illustrated books for Our Sultan； there were

times when we felt very close to each other。 Twenty years ago； we became

friends while working on a royal history in verse for the late father of our

present sultan。 But we were never closer than when working on the eight

illustrated plates that were to acpany a collection of Fuzuli poems。 One

summer　evening　back　then；　as　a　concession　to　his　understandable　but　illogical

desires—apparently a miniaturist ought to feel in his soul the text he’s

illustrating—I came here and patiently listened to him pretentiously recite

lines　from　Fuzuli’s　collected　works　as　flocks　of　swallows　fluttered　above　us　in　a

frenzy。　I　still　recall　a　line　recited　that　evening：　“I　am　not　me　but　eternally　thee。”

I’ve　always　wondered　how　one　might　illustrate　this　line。

I　ran　to　his