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It'll Rain in Ankara

You are putting me under the pump
It doesn't matter if you are the capital
I didn't love myself
As much as I loved you
 
It'll rain in Ankara
It'll rain so roads will get wet
Sidewalks of Kızılay
Will look and lament to me
 
I won't let you go, even tho you
Hurt me I won't complain
I would die for you but
Won't let you go
 
It'll rain in Ankara
It'll rain so roads will get wet
Sidewalks of Kızılay
Will look and lament to me
 

Martyrs are immortal

Homeland,nation,first
Then mother and love,
Blown this way
There is someone
 
Saying 'Adhan can't prohibited.'
Saying the flag won't land
Saying martyrs are immortal
There is someone
 
Martyrs are immortal
 
Communicate with the flag
Merging with soil
Giving life grow prodigiously
There is someone
 
Saying 'Adhan can't prohibited.'
Saying the flag won't land
Saying martyrs are immortal
There is someone
 
Martyrs are immortal
Martyrs are immortal
 

I'd Die For You My Türkiye

I've set my heart on Türkiye's way
I'd die for your prairies and hills
I've fed my grey horse for ages
I'd die for the way your rivers flow
 
I'm in love my heart it's a fireplace
It's been ninety years my grandmother suffers everytime
My Emine fulls her bottle from the wells
I'd die for the way you wear blue bead 1
 
My wedding, my ceremony, my halay, my bar 2
My honor, my pudicity
My pain that dressed in the carpets
I'd die for your heybes' 3embroidery
 

• 1. it's believed that wearing blue beads protects sime kind of curse
• 2. halay and bar are both kinds of Turks' dances.
• 3. traditional jacket

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Mor pentru Turcia mea

Mi-am pus capul pe drumul Turciei mele
Mor pentru câmpurile și dealurile ei
Mi-am hrănit calul gri de-a lungul vremurilor
Dragostea raului mor pentru Turcia mea
 
Sunt îndrăgostit de inima mea este un foc
Timp de nouăzeci de ani a tras un chin mereu bunica
Umpleți fântânile Emine al meu
A căzut dintr-o mărgică albastră Turcia mea
 
Nunta mea, asociația mea, mătușa mea, barul meu
Pământul meu, pâinea mea, onoarea mea, albina mea
Durerea mea care îmbrăca covoarele,
Haybele* voastre de vroderie mor pentru Turcia mea
 
Ege Kökenli