In the "Karlı Kayın (snowy beech)" forest
I'm walking in the middle of the night
I'm doleful, I'm doleful
Give me your hand, where is your hand
Is the hometown or the stars (on the sky)
Or is my youth, which one is further?
In the midst of beeches
There is a window, yellow and warm (maybe friendly also)
If only while I'm passing by there
Someone would say "Uncle! (like hey mister but in a friendly but still respectful way), come inside."
I would go in and greet ( greet in a friendly way again)
All the people inside the place
At my seven-hill city (=Istanbul)
I left my bud rose
Neither to scare of dying is a shame
Nor thinking about death