I Like Villages Rather Than Cities

I like villages rather than cities,
If there is a smell of bamboo, mixing with thyme smells,
If mountain pigeons laden with olives pass by,
From its high cliffs,
I like mountains more than my villages.

If it waits with hope, the stone wall that does not break,
Longing for the fresh smoke rising from the earth stove,
I'm deceived by the smell of tea right there,
A lifetime flows from your smile,
Oozing from its mossy writing,
Cool like a looted drop.

There was a monastery on the other side of you,
Snowy ships passing through its chimney,
In the middle of an olive green provocation,
Our hunger is flowing to you, my Gökbel.

We are being thrown at you this season,
You have abundance and blessings,
You are Elif girl,
Soldier Mehmed.

His mother has hopes,
You've got the crackling chip of time,
That time gets tired of wasting away,
Our mind stands behind hope.

We put twin seeds in our dowry this season,
And on the walls of the monastery our dusty crime wanders,
Your cheeks are painted a hidden pink.

These days, a feast falls within us,
Cubes and basins are eager,
He embraces with a tumult,
We put our sins behind us.

Its ground buds,
Blessings float in our breaths,
Young almonds stop to flower,
We look at the milk-smelling calves.

Our blood boils these days,
Hurry, some of us are dying,
And some of us are born.

We came to you for a dirham of oil, my Gökbel.
Boiled eggs, leeks,
And we have halva on our bundles,
Soon we'll hit the poles,
To your face to your face.

An apocalyptic cry will descend on every branch,
A dark abundance will be spread on our tables,
Bags and cubes will be filled,
We will see my father's smile together.

We will wake up to the song of the rose in our barns,
And soon I will remember,
One is olive black,
The other is your sky blue eyes…

We have thin long poles,
We'll chase the setting sun,
In a little while, I will pull the wooden door and,
We will leave you.