Your eyes ought to be an open wound
a prelude to some wretched ballads
like caressing a deep seated horse out of night
plunging into the waters coughed by words
towards battlegrounds of çaldırans
where so many swords were drawn
they would not see
i had their hands in Turkish
your eyes ought to be an open wound
the sky gets embellished by stars, talks with pebbles
the birds could not find any single place to perch
for their wings are being in flames
those ominous notes taken by the state
we are out because of your being kept inside
at the gates of the evening the roses are stopped
the kids in blood, sweat and tears are asked for IDs
the shadow and time look for a route to sluice
Nâzım utters words about Yesenin
they would not hear
your eyes ought to be clearly a creator
English Translation by Mesut Şenol