Mirrors

I am reaped
Decreed to be beaten.
No strength left in my knees.

Mirrors,
Don’t make me talk,
Complain,
Weep.

Though my mother,
My father, be troubled,
Let my hand that strikes be broken.

My sorrow is seen in you,
My hair is plaited white,
One can die alive.

Mirrors,
Don’t make me complain,
Don’t make me weep.

Always, lines on my face,
Rhymes within me,
Years have flown by.
Don’t make me talk,
Complain,
Weep,

Ziya Metin Eryürek (1929-2014). Lyrics and Music. Aynalar.Translated from the Turkish.