Ahmet Kaya - Şafak Türküsü dalszöveg fordítás angol nyelvre

The Dawn Song

Versions: #2
The Dawn Song
 
Don't search for me here
Don't search Mom
Don't ask my name at the door
The stars have fallen on your hair
Don't snatch them Mom, don't cry
 
I waited long since with a shaved face,
My eyes on the dawn
While my hands are stretched, my ears are on the beam
I missed the death, Mom.
While I wanted madly to live
 
Ah.. I wish I could have given
a country filled with boys and girls
from tip to toe...
as a present...
to each mother who runs with their heart in her palms
 
Unbounded with my dreams
Young with my insistence
Child with my amazement,
When I was passing it out to my confident
A bud opened quietly on my cheek...
 
Think about Pir Sultan, Mom, about Şeyh Bedrettin
About Börklüce, about Torlak Kemal
Think about the people Mom
Think so that your heart takes a swing
Think so that at that moment,
A happy dragonfly
That believes in the good days.
Rises
 
Don't search for me here
Don't search Mom
Don't ask my name at the door
The stars have fallen on your hair
Don't snatch them Mom, don't cry
 
So, my beautiful Mom...
Instead of flying the stars in my country's colorful dawn,
I drank my own blood while sitting within the stars
What a strange feeling is dying,
When I am going to the gallows tree,
All the girls that I kissed are coming to mind.
There is surely an explanation of that.
 
I left destitute paper and the pen behind on the table.
Forgive me, my beautiful Mom,
For not writing a letter with the taste of a son.
Don't get angry with me.
 
I didn't want their hands to touch.
I didn't want they eyes to touch.
You were going to cry and smell,
And maybe carry it in your arms for a lifetime.
The pain of living hangs on my neck,
While I wanted to live like the taste of folk songs
 
To die is a strange thing, Mom!
I'd like to steal the feast from the captivity of feast cards
And give it to the hands of the children
In a box decorated with pearls
And then, then my beautiful Mom
I'd like to fall in love with a girl like falling from the roof
 
I have stood on the edge of the night,
There's no pocket on the shroud.
I have filled stars in my arms,
Run children run,
The morning is coming upon me.
 
In short, my beautiful Mom.
No more shivering when I think about a flower.
No more laughing, hoping, longing.
Or waiting for a letter.
With laying my eyes to the distance
 
To die is a strange thing, Mom!
From now on, I cannot write puzzled, hopeful poems
Like bleeding the walls with my fingernails.
I cannot fix my eyes on the ceiling with an absolute faith
I cannot be a father, for example
To turn into earth is a strange thing, Mom
 
To die is a strange thing, Mom!
The cliffs, which builds up in you,
The mountain, which collapses in you.
I say 'feast', say 'flower',
I say 'cones that spread their wings to the bottom of pine'.
It looks like a child with rose-pink cheeks.
Yet, losing your son is a strange thing, Mom.
 
It's me who dies in every fight.
Each woman holding flag and clashing
Gives birth to me.
While clawing the soil.
I am the yearning, I am the fight, I am the love
 
Wait for me, Mom
One morning, I happen to show up.
One morning, Mom, one morning.
When you open the door to brush your pain away,
Many of my peers,
Whose names are different, whose voices are different
With flowers in their arms
Bring a new country with flowers.
 


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