土耳其，你是故事最多的老祖母

                                      没有谁像你一样拥抱过如此众多的文明

                                      你伸开的双臂是博斯普鲁斯大桥

                                      一手挽着亚细亚，一手拉着欧罗巴

                                      甚至你的衣服也混合着东西方的气味

                                      你带着忧愁的灰蓝色脸上

                                      沉积着对失落辉煌的怀恋

                                      你活得现实又充满向往

                                      你曾放下包袱，义无反顾地西去

                                      但你并没有放弃信仰，你只像你自己

                                      你的家里古董多得惊人

                                      院落里到处都是遗迹

                                      你的窗外有最美的风光

                                      清真寺的塔影里传来祈祷声

                                      喝着你的红茶，吃着你的烤肉，

                                      看着你儿子的旋转舞，

                                      逛着你购物常去的大巴扎

                                      满目的蓝眼睛和五彩缤纷的吊灯

                                      神秘祥和感柔柔地直入心底

                                      只有在莫扎特的进行曲中

                                      才能感受铁骑奔突的雄壮和弯刀的闪亮

                                      多想静下心来，听你讲那神启的故事

      


                                                                     Turkey

                                     Turkey, you old grandmother with the most stories,

                                     No one like you has embraced so many civilizations.

                                     Your outstretched arms are the Bosphorus bridge,

                                     One hand carries Asia, the other hand carries Europe,

                                     Even your clothes are mixed with the smell of the east and west.

                                     Your pale blue face sentimental,

                                     Accumulating the nostalgia of lost glory,

                                     You live realistic and full of yearning,

                                     You have ever put down the burden

                                     and have gone to the west stalwartly,

                                     But you didn’t give up faith, you are just like yourself.

                                     There are so many antiques in your home,

                                     There are so many relics in your yard.

                                     You have the most beautiful scenery outside the window,

                                     The call to prayer comes from the shadow of mosque’s towers,

                                     Drinking your black tea, eating your barbecue,

                                     Watching your son’s whirling dance,

                                     stroll along the grand bazaar where you often go shopping,

                                     you can see blue eyes and colorful droplights everywhere,

                                     The mysterious sense of harmony eases into the bottom of the heart,

                                     Only in Mozart’s march,

                                     You can feel the sturdiness of cavalry’s rush

                                     and glistening of the scimitar,

                                     Wish to be quiet, Listen to your divine story.