The orange evening sun is shouting like their mothers

 

The first fountain that nourishes you is god, 

The scent of heaven is sprinkled as if it were plucked from dried flowers and crumbled, 

The notes of heaven explode one after another in my mouth and nose, 

and seizes the castle of my soul, beyond its promise, 

it extends the dream of my heaven to me from my own eyes, believe me. 

The first fountain that nourishes you is god, 

The scent of heaven is sprinkled as if it were plucked from dried flowers and crumbled, 

A fragrant scent closes your eyes in the arms of peace. 

Mortal innocent eyes drink the water of life from the sacred fountain of a goddess... 

The warmth and peace that touch your nose while you drink the sacred water of life. 

The woman rises to her home in the sky, 

with her invisible wings beating and her voice ringing in the ears,

It scares us... 

The first fountain that feeds you is God, 

As if the scent of heaven has been sprinkled from dried flowers and crumbled, 

The colorful sheep of the sky with their collars stuck to their chests and endlessly long ropes that think they are free, 

A garden of kites, this life, this city, this time... 

Everyone is free in their own way, if you ask,

everyone wants to fly, 

Everyone wants to swallow and feel the wind on their face. 

All dreams are slaves to a rope that has entered your heart from your chest, 

You don't know whose hand it is from this height, 

You can't see God's hand even if it doesn't touch you...

The prayers of captive flying will soon rain down from the skies with their colorful rains, 

The tail of a breath tied to an infinitely long rope will break off, 

The soul that flies with the wind is called to the earth, 

now all the selas are called home as if in the evening... 

For you to lie down on your mother's earth-scented chest peacefully as before, 

Maybe for you to remember, all mothers will shout from the windows of the sky to the street... 

09.53 a few pigeons are flying and coming running to their nests from the blue skies... 

The orange evening sun is shouting like their mothers... 

And dreams are calling me home.