The lovely world, bountiful nature, fertile soil
I don’t claim that I should not enjoy all
The smell of the soil, never I say such things in this blind time
Now let the horizon, the mountain, mornings with dew make love with clouds
As the vigor of the birds kissing the blueness, a wild spring
I don’t say, I don’t care about the worldly beauties while I am in the city
I know that there is a wedding celebration of the mountains, the joy of the soil…
My flowers are in the vases; I have tutu roses I water
Making love with the wind, the acacia twigs beating the glass
Beyond seasons they enchant in the traces of the water’s march
I don’t say, our life over sixty-five is covered
I know, the lovely world, bountiful nature, fertile soil
I did hang on to my existence by dismissing the prediction pain of forgetting
I know that there is a wedding celebration of the mountains, the joy of the soil…
English Translation by Mesut ŞENOL