Yiğidim aslanım [English translation]

The minute roads of this homeland

His sore, achy hands devoid of grasp

From tip to toe his roses are utter verse

My valiant, my lion is recumbent here.

I am wistful today, roses don’t bloom;

Dreadful news as to my valiant I acquired:

His mattress (is) of forged iron, (his) ottomans from stone

My valiant, my lion is recumbent here.

He did no iniquity, nor a manslaughter

Clean as bread, pellucid as water

Condemned, with nobody any the wiser

My valiant, my lion is recumbent here.

Could a threshing field be amidst the graves?

Could vigor endure thirteen years confinement?

If I ask Azrael would he slay me?

My valiant, my lion is recumbent here.