Mesut Hoca köyde, kara bela kucakta,
Gözlük takmış gözü, soğukmuş ayazda.
Horoz dik kafalı, Mesut Hoca nazda,
Köyde yankı olur, ötüşür her sabah da.
"Sen de bir âlemsin," der hocaya sitemle,
Bir gurur var sanki o kara cübbesinde.
Bir bakar havalı, hem huysuz, hem derinle,
Hoca bakış atar, horoz ise kinle.
Mesut Hoca gülse, kara bela kaçarak,
Köyü uyandırır o sesiyle bağırarak.
"Seninle dost olmak zor," der hocam bakarak,
Horoz başlar yine ötmeye bağırarak.
Mesut Hodja is in the village, black trouble is on his lap,
He wore glasses, his eyes were cold in the frost.
Cock headstrong, Mesut Hodja nazda,
There is an echo in the village, it sings every morning.
"You are also a world," he says reproachfully to the teacher,
There is a pride as if in that black robe.
One look at you cool, grumpy, and with your skin,
The teacher gives a look, the rooster with a grudge.
If Mesut Hodja laughs, black trouble runs away,
He wakes up the village by shouting with his voice.
"It's hard to be friends with you," my teacher says, looking,
The rooster starts crowing again, screaming.
Kayıt Tarihi : 13.11.2024 11:29:00
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