Текст и перевод песни Şiirbaz - Fatma

Fatma

Türkiye de her yıl yüzlerce kadın töre, şiddet ve bir çok nedenden dolayı genç yaşta hayatını kaybetmekte bu utanç hepimizin...
Soğuk bi kış gününde sobasız bir çadırda doğmuş
Altıncı kız çocuk demişler babası yadırgar olmuş
Üçüncü kadından olmuş fatma koymuşlar ismini
Demişler ederiz büyüsün bi kaç katırla yolcu

Hayat ilk adımda yolmuş saçını
Bilmezmiş hiç onun güzel gözlerinde umut varmış
Kim karnını doyurdu
Sen onun kölesisin demişler
O da razı gelmiş yaşıtları ip atlarken
Her gün fatma gidip gider koyun güder

Bahtsızım demiş ruhuna dokunan ablası
Sonra gizli gizli gelmiş yanına sokulan
Amcası yaşında bi herifle nikahlanmış
On üçünde okul yüzü görmeden
Henüz yokken okuma yazması
Demişler kaderinden öldürür
Yapacağı tek bi hamle onu
Töre denen hapse mahkum
Aynı yerde kan ve onur
Cehaletin karanlığına gömülmüştür evinde
Bir de üstüne on beşinde anne olur

Yitip giden ölümler yalan
Yıkık viran evinden kalan
Huzur biraz elinden kayar
Zaman kanar derinden yaran

Kocası vefat edince denemiş kadın başına büyütmeyi
Çocuklarını olmamış ve demişler ki düğünle gir tabuta
Kocasının kardeşiyle evlendirmiş töre
Geçim derdi tabi sonra büyük şehir
O masmavi gözlerinde saklanmış hayat
Kocası otur dermiş kalk demeden kalkmazmış ayağa
Çocuklarını odalarına saklarmış baya geç saatlere dek
Onlar için katlanmış dayağa
Fakat yorgun düşmüş anne evine dönmek gerekmiş
Vicdanı çocuklarını bırakamamış öfke yer etmiş içinde
Zaman dolarken o tek gecekonduda
Boşanmak istemiş fakat bu ölmek demekmiş;
Fatma polise gitmiş demişler ki koş artık eve
Ailesine gitmiş demişler ki kocandır döver
Fatma o akşam vurulmuş o akşam defnedilmiş
Her mezarına baktıklarında utansın gören

Fatma

Every year in Turkey, hundreds of women lose their lives at a young age due to honor killings, violence, and many other reasons. This shame belongs to all of us...
She was born in a tent on a cold winter day, without a stove
Her father was disappointed because her sixth child was a girl
She was born to the third wife, and she was named Fatima
They said she would grow up and be sent away with a few mules

Life plucked the hair from her head at the first step
She did not know that there was hope in her beautiful eyes
Who fed her?
They said, "You are his slave."
She accepted the fate. While her peers jumped rope
Fatima tended sheep every day

Her sister, whose soul was touched by misery, said to her
She came secretly and confided in her
She was married to a man the age of her uncle
At the age of thirteen, before she had ever seen a school
She could not read or write yet
They said, "Fate will kill her."
The only move she could make would
Imprison her in the jail called tradition
Blood and honor in the same place
She is buried in the darkness of ignorance in her home
And she became a mother at the age of fifteen

Gone deaths are lies
What remains of her ruined home
Peace slips away from her hand a little
Time bleeds deeply from her wound

When her husband died, she tried to raise her children as a single mother
She failed, and they told her to enter the coffin with a wedding
Tradition married her to her husband's brother
Of course, she had to struggle to make ends meet and went to a big city
Life hid in her deep blue eyes
Her husband would tell her to sit and she would not get up until he said get up
She would hide her children in their rooms until very late at night
She endured beatings for them
But she was exhausted and had to return to her mother's house
Her conscience would not let her leave her children, and anger took hold of her
As time was passing in the slum house
She wanted to get divorced, but that meant death
Fatima went to the police and they told her to run home
She went to her family and they said, "He is your husband. He can beat you."
Fatima was shot that night and buried that night
Let everyone who sees her grave be ashamed