The sky is blue here too, the leaves are green
Birds have two wings, fire burns
Human faces, multifaceted and mysterious
Snow falls here in winter as well
Purple flowers bloom in early spring
Roof tiles are red
Workers rise early here too
Factory smoke curls crookedly upward
So much labor, so many wounded hearts
Venturing out to the fields to gather crocuses
Beautiful-faced children here, too
Back there, in the mist-kissed earth
We would crack open seeds and reap the harvest
We would pick sour cherries and make jam for winter
Back there, in those days of freedom
Boys would play and girls would sing
Long before an envious eye fell upon our bread
We loved the mountain mist and the salt of the sea
Tell me, when did we come here?
How did the first avalanche break loose from our mountains?
As we fled, carrying the fire in our saddlebags
Did the sheep bleat? How did the bird sing?
It gnaws at our very being, never satisfied
A longing for a homeland that smells of fresh grass
Neither the light of the lamp nor the taste brings comfort
To the red wine set upon our table
Beds are hard, streets are thick with dust
No one offers a heartfelt “hello”
We are refugees in a foreign land, after all
English Translation by Mesut Şenol