This man is my father
With his eight cornered cap
On his shoulder a sack, hey!
No money in his pocket
Bafra is his cigarette (a cheaper turkish brand of cigarettes)
In his heart pain is buried
He has raised 6 children
with a laborers salary (being unskilled the salary is very low)
This man is my father, hey!
Do not cry my father
Do not cry my helpless father
These dark days will pass, hey!
The one who closes a door
will again open that door
Do not cry my father, hey!
Do not cry my innocent father
Do not cry my helpless father
These dark days will pass, hey!
The one who closes a door
will again open that door
God is great my father, hey!
This man is my father
His troubles are greater than the mountains
Helpless, with bent back, hey!
A man who never knew happiness
A man who never knew comfort
Never been comforted
Never begged of one piece of bread
This man is my father, hey!
My father was a righteous man
His heart was a brave lions heart
His heart was soft as a child's
All my life I wanted to be like him
He was unselfish
Perhaps he didn't even had a plant of his own
But he himself was a great sycamore tree living with his pride
He was the arms around me, the wings beneath me
He was the mountain behind me
I am my fathers son
From top to bottom I am Anatolia***