Don't keep knocking on my door, Death,
I won't open it;
I'm not a man meant to die.
I've grown accustomed to the sky once;
Clouds have been my companion for so many years.
I feel uneasy
If birds don't chirp on the branches,
Of trees I haven't had my fill of fruits,
Whether it's raining,
Or the sun is shining,
I must notice
From the window I gaze through.
The sea must be visible when I step onto the balcony.
Completing the scenery
With snowy mountains and plowed fields.
I can't be without bread, truth be told,
I consider it a blessing;
I can't pass through water,
The air I breathe is salty.
How can I remain in one place,
Lying down endlessly,
With my hands brought to my side,
Motionless,
Embraced by silence;
Like a toppled statue?
What will my hands say to me later?
What answer will I give to my cold heart?
Won't I be ashamed of my feet?
I must rise,
I must wander,
In the streets, in the parks.
I must wave
To departing trains,
To departing ships.
I must know,
From the length of shadows,
What time it is...
I must whistle.
I must sing songs
Along the way,
Out of joy or sadness.
I must remember past days,
Drift away by the riverside,
I must dream,
Of a beautiful future.
There must be passersby,
I must greet them;
I must think of Robinson,
His loneliness:
I must be grateful
For being among people.
After all, what is death in the end?
Isn't it just parting from the lovers?
Don't keep knocking on my door, Death,
I won't open it;
I'm not a man meant to die.
Translated by: Mehmet Barın Erturan
Click for the original text