On earth, there's a climate, A place, my beloved, That I think of. Like a ripe quince, With its firm and tart air, Perfectly suited to your temperament. There, untouched, Unspoiled by gaze, Exists a pure nature; And the season is as you desire, Always autumn, Until the end of time. There, the skies are made of copper, A caravan with its tent, A land of clouds. The waters are a dull silver, Its weather, filled with lightning, Mists in the morning and evening. With leaves faded, Branches weary, Especially in its trees, A nightingale, turned melancholic, Recalls the past when it sings, Every bird always reminisce. Is that place a mirage, Is it your shadow, or reflection? Earth, sky, water, bird, and flower, In those subdued beauties, Everything there means you; It resembles you so much. My love, to live far from here, To love and die in distance, If we were to set sail to the seas, One day, what would you say if we go To the place that resembles you?
Translated by: Mehmet Barın Erturan
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