Köylü Şiiri

My accent is that of a peasant

No matter how nice is my parley

To them shall I never be pleasant 

For my skin is that of a peasant

And only that is what they see

In the nicest quarters of the city I may roam

The most prestigious magazines I my own

Alas, I shall never be home under the cross

                                                 nor the crescent

For my accent is that of a peasant