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National Spirit

by Fethullah Gülen on . Posted in Broken Plectrum

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There was a hero, they buried him on the opposite slope...
Later they stole his burial shroud and shirt.
Fearing he might get up, they heaped up rocks over him.
There was a hero, they buried him on the opposite slope.

My brave one, just explain what happened!
You're troubled, the country's troubled, sit up and let's cry...
Let's cry and cauterize our chests.
My brave one, just explain what happened.

Make a sound, my brave one, or don't you hear me?
For years I have played with you in my imagination.
I live with the hope that you will rise up and come...
Make a sound, my brave one, or don't you hear me?

A shirt of shame on my back, the sin of years,
My heart shining with hope awaits you.
At times it flies in the skies; it crawls on the ground at times.
A shirt of shame on my back, the sin of years!

Everywhere is in ruin, a festival for owls.
Bridges have fallen one by one and the roads are without travelers.
No one stops by anymore, the fountains have run dry...
Everywhere is in ruin, a festival for owls.

Will-powers almost paralyzed, a terrible shock in the spirits,
A dozen unfortunate ones "plundered" history.
Values turned upside down, sacred values are without support.
Will-powers almost paralyzed, a terrible shock in the spirits.

Arise and come just like in the dreams!
Early one morning on your white horse,
While watching you in my spirit with my closed eyes.
Arise and come just like in the dreams!