Текст и перевод песни Sagopa Kajmer - Günlüklerim Aylık Olmuş

Günlüklerim Aylık Olmuş

Kalemi bendim evet o resmin ismim adini bilmeyen bir
siirin ilk kitasi buda rüyami, bana revami yarini varmi
aklin astarinda bir baharmi beklenen betimlenenden
asli çokmu farkli anlat aslini.Bak ben anladim dur
anlatim hayat resimlenen bi bos tuval duvarda ölsen
ötesi sensin eserinin bu bir resim kalemlerimdi
hislerim bir kus çizin beyaz kanatli gök kusaklarimdir
adresim.Bes paranla taçta yansan ömrü kafama anla
krali bendim aklimin dudaklarimda dudaklarimda yatalak
arzular, duraklarimda benide beklesin bahar hayir reel
degilse durmasin vedayi versin arzular.Rengi reel e
çalsin aklin, andirirmi kalbi, tavri hos bir davranista
sergilerse kandirirmi sahi, mecali kalmamis bir
haykiris kulaklarimda eski bir tanis bu sesler
anladimki aldanis.
Günlüklerimde aylik olmus anla hayat dudaklarimda bir
tutam reçel ya tadar ya güya rüya ya dalsin özlemim
yolculuk var beklenir ufukta çok yakin bir
elveda.Günlüklerimde aylik olmus anla rapim
dudaklarimda bir satir kelamsa sunarsa akla hayata
dair hislerim istiyorsan söylerim içimde dogmamis bir
insana.
(Savas)
Çengel at bu rhyme'larin dibinde esti rüzgarin dilim
dininde tamir ister askerin su gönlü merkebin ininde
sahlanir delim yesille beslenir evim bu tatminin
sekilli sarkilarda jestlerim.Batti ömre her dilim
yerinde kolpa her zemindi gözlerin kisikti merkezin
önünde fer gezin lakayit olmanin sebeplisiymis
raplerim dininde birkaç etki etmis sözlerimde simdi
yaz kizim.Suçludur bu ancak hükmü yok bozukmu insanin
sonuslu defterinde kazdi döngü bazdi illerimde söndü
kültürün kapinda kokla tüm su vasfi derlerim içinde
sevgi yokla dogrudur nedenlerim.Bak moruk bu kusku
malum oldu sövgülerde yüzde yüzdü hasretin geniyle
oynadimki ferde talim hükmeden düsünce sellerinde bos
gezen ya bos kesem dibinde merhum ettik mantigimla
kismen.

My Diaries Turned Monthly

I was the pen, yes, that picture's name is unknown to me,
the first chapter of a poem, this is my dream, is tomorrow mine?
On the lining of my mind, a spring awaits, so different from what's depicted,
tell me its true nature. Look, I understand, stop,
life is a blank canvas on the wall, even if you die,
the beyond is you, this is a work of your art, my pencils were
my feelings, draw a bird with white wings, my rainbows are
my address. Even if you shine with your five pennies, understand life's crown on my head,
I was the king, my mind on my lips, on my lips bedridden
desires, may spring wait for me at my stops, no, if it's not real,
let it not wait, let it say farewell to desires. Let your mind steal the color into reality,
does it resemble the heart? If it exhibits a pleasant demeanor,
does it truly deceive? A cry with no strength left
in my ears, an old acquaintance, these sounds,
I realized it was a deception.
My diaries have turned monthly, understand, life is a
dollop of jam on my lips, either taste it or pretend to dream, let my longing
take a journey, the horizon awaits, a very close
farewell. My diaries have turned monthly, understand, my rap
is a line on my lips, if it presents words to the mind, about life
my feelings, if you want, I'll tell them to an unborn
person.
(Savas)
Hook onto the bottom of these rhymes, the wind has blown, my tongue
in your religion needs repair, the soldier's heart in the donkey's stable
is preserved, my crazy one is fed with green, my home in this satisfaction
shaped songs are my gestures. Every word of mine sunk into life
in its place, every ground was fake, your eyes were squinted, your center
a wandering light in front of you, being indifferent was the reason
for my raps, in your religion, a few words had an impact, now
write, girl. This is guilty, but there's no verdict, is the human's
ending flawed? In the notebook, the loop dug, it spread in my lands, extinguished
at the door of culture, smell all the attributes I gather within,
love, check, my reasons are true. Look, dude, this doubt
became known, the insults were a hundred percent, with the gene of your longing
I played, so that the individual learns, in the ruling floods of thought, an empty
wanderer, or an empty pocket, we buried logic at the bottom
partially.