Parting

The dreams are loaded with laments
And the flowers blossom early in an Andalusian morning
From Merve the beloved comes to the shore
The Tigris flows by the evening tales
The beauty of Istanbul, perhaps, is a childish beauty

But the children live a thousand Badr wars in their hearts
Istanbul’s face is scratched and the cut goes deep
Alas, henna is the colour of the sea
Dripping from the hands of mothers
As Andalusia ages she smells of iodine
Now, our love is warmer than our hatred

I am the child wearing the face of St.Sophia, the
orphan
Oh heart, a thorny rose in my handkerchief
Thousands of voices have divided our voices

Those who silenced our voice
Have died one by one

This is the endless struggle
Of my heart
Dear heart you’re warm!