| From when thugs were kind
|
| From the streets where men kiss women from their mujgan
|
| I'm getting older, sometimes lie
|
| I'm writing my heart in this room, it touches other lives
|
| A thousand and one troubles come to me because of this soul
|
| I am his volunteer worker
|
| Are such fiery poems sung in this era?
|
| I am that guest of the past, ah…
|
| I know you one evening in Yüksekkaldırım, my disaster
|
| Your cap on your head, your gloom inside
|
| They burn me like Cadde-i Kebir, helpless
|
| They look after me like a fugitive prisoner
|
| I know you one evening in Yüksekkaldırım, my disaster
|
| Your cap on your head, your gloom inside
|
| They burn me like Cadde-i Kebir, helpless
|
| They look after me like a fugitive prisoner
|
| A thousand and one troubles come to me because of this soul
|
| I am his volunteer worker
|
| Are such fiery poems sung in this era?
|
| I am that guest of the past, ah…
|
| I know you one evening in Yüksekkaldırım, my disaster
|
| Your cap on your head, your gloom inside
|
| They burn me like Cadde-i Kebir, helpless
|
| They look after me like a fugitive prisoner
|
| I know you one evening in Yüksekkaldırım, my disaster
|
| Your cap on your head, your gloom inside
|
| They burn me like Cadde-i Kebir, helpless
|
| They look after me like a fugitive prisoner |