Derdim Çoktur Hangisine Yanayım [English translation]

I have many troubles, which of them shall I take?

Heart-wound is refreshed again

How come shall I find a cure to this trouble

Unless its cure is from a friend's hands

My master, my master, my very own master

A cure for my trouble, my master

Wearing kinds of clothes, kinder than roses

Nightingale, don't surround it, it's a pity for rose

I've been longing so long that my bosom is crushed

Heart-paren comes with smiling

My master, my master, my very own master

A cure for my trouble, my master

My tall, cypress sycamore maple

I'm burning having a fever in my heart

You're my qibla, I turn my face to you

Between your eyebrows is my altar

My master, my master, my very own master

A cure for my trouble, my master

I'm Pir Sultan, you're flying high over the storey

You're coming and going without saluting

Belle, why do you get away the fondness?

Was our wises' custom like that?

My master, my master, my very own master

A cure for my trouble, my master

• Artist:Erkan Oğur
• Album:Gönül Kokusu Vardı