Those cavalry lights riding by the chestnuts
woke the honeysuckle up so very early
and they will freeze forever!
And the olives with old Greek lace
Blowing wind!
Blowing wind!

Whoever saw such a rose-eating rooster
Its voice with the scent of dawn...
It’s as if a wine bottle filled up in prison
is rolling down the hill
Other roosters also rise
with their ladder-embroidered crests
And when the babies’ dreams
dangle down the balconies
like a relay race with red flags
The roosters re-discover the sea
Thieves!
Thieves!

And the sea
with the marine shadows of Turgut Reis
Is offended by all these lines
And its face turns first red
then purple
Blowing wind!
Blowing wind!

This morning
is a flight
from a vendetta a child
Way before dawn
Will be shot by the bullets of the sun
And when the evening arrives on the pine trees
and darkness falls
Upon the hills
Upon the hills
So beautiful is the blowing wind
Blowing wind!
Blowing wind!

This morning
and this spring
is a flight
A wick running for the gunpowder
Whiff
Whiff
So beautiful is the blowing wind!
Blowing wind!
Blowing wind!
So beautiful
So very beautiful
Even when it blows not
Even when it blows not
Beautiful