If I leave this world, my saz, you stay,
Don’t disclose my hidden secrets.
Keep quiet, don’t tell strangers,
Don’t lament like poor nightingales.
I told you my hidden troubles,
Practiced to blend your sound and my voice,
Like a babe rocked you in my arms,
Remember me, don’t forget me.
All my troubles, you shared,
If I cried you cried, if I laughed you laughed,
My saz, was it from cranes you took this sound?
Don’t claw these strings, don’t make them whine.
A mulberry tree in the garden, not aware of the saz,
Nightingales, did they perch on your branches sometimes?
From which bird did you take this sound?
Tell the truth, don’t deny it.
If months, years go by and time passes,
Lean against the wall, wear dark clothes;
Wounds in your chest and side,
Let no one touch them if the beloved isn’t there.
You a honeycomb, Veysel a bee,
Crying together to make honey;
I human, you tree,
Let us not forget, I my father, you your master.
Aşık (folk singer-song writer) Veysel (1894-1973). Sazım. Translated from the Turkish.
*A popular string instrument in Anatolia.