Babamı Beklerken [English translation]

tell me, years which one of us is tired

youth, a lock of hair on my forehead, don’t pull it out, please

I asked for no one’s permission and soon understood

love is already an ointment on my lips healing me if I can find it in myself

who else to lose to

but the wine glass in my hand?

father, if the heart won’t sober up

a blood blister grows within, my life stunned

this is a wound no doubt, without love

it crawls towards the heart, if it’s not stroked

I fell asleep at window ledges