Mehmet Akif Ersoy's poem Çanakkale .. "I have listened to it many times, welcome for you"

CANAKKALE MARTYRS

what is that sore throat? Do you have a spouse that world?
Loading four of the most dense armies
To the Marmara to find a way from the hill
A tiny little land surrounded by a lot of navy.
What a shameless contempt that the horizons are closed
Where - with the brutality he showed "this is a European!"
Saydirir- predatory, senseless hyena cluster
If there is, he has come and opened his prison or cafe.
The old world, the new world, all human beings
It's boiling like sand, Judgment Day, Truth Judgment!

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The seven climatic world stands in front of it,
You're looking with Ostralia, Canada.
Faces are different, languages, skins are colorful,
There is a simple incident; atrocities equal.
Some Hindu, some cannibal, some I don't know what trouble
You know, tauna is also cruelty, this infamous invasion.
Oh, isn't that the twentieth century, that noble creature,
It's justifiably miserable no matter how many favorites it has.
The vomited Mehmetçik stood in front of him for months,
He spilled the mystery in his stomach impudently.

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If the mask was not torn, that face was still a disaster for us.
The bloody truth called civilization is brazen!
Then the client esbap for the destruction in the accursed
It is so awesome that each one of them destroys a property.
From the other side, the motives are tearing the mind apart,
Earthquakes have been lifting from now on,
Bomb lightning descends from your brain and every trench,
It's on your chest, it's a lion.
Thousands of gullies like hell underground,
Hundreds of men burned by every sewer thrown.

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Heavens in death lowering, earth in dead eruption,
What a terrific type he is.
head, eye, trunk, leg, arm, jaw, finger, hand, foot
Divorced ridges and valleys, torrential downpours.
And those despicable hands clad in armor are scattering,
Floods of lightning, floods of flame.
It gives the fire to the open chests,
Countless airplanes navigating in a flock.
Shells raining bullets more often than cannon rifles
Watch the heroic army laugh at this threat.

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Neither steel bastions nor Siner wants from its adversary,
Will it be taken before the fold of faith in your chest?
What force will smash him?
Because it is the divine facility, the text is fortification.
Wrapped, lowered position-i fortifications,
Sun-i-fishar cannot withhold the determination of man.
If these breasts are Hüda's eternal ser hadd
He said, "My sun-i bedi, do not trample it."
I was talking about Asım's generation! eroded truth,
Here he did not trample his honor, he will not trample!

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body of doubt, look at the mountains, stones,
On Earth, if he is not bowing, he begins to bend.
He lies shot and stretched out on his immaculate forehead,
O LORD, what suns are setting for a crescent moon!
Oh, he fell to the ground for this land, soldier!
If ancestors descended from the sky and kissed him, he would touch his pure forehead.
How great are you that your blood saves Tawhid,
Bedr's lions were only so glorious.
Who do you dig up the makber that will not come to you?
“Let's bury you in history!” If I say, you won't fit.
That book is not enough for the edvara you've been using,
Only eternity will make you want.

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If I put the Kaaba on your head by saying this is the stone,
Even if I hear the revelation of my soul and pass it on to its stone.
Then if I take the sky dome, in the name of rida,
If I draw him to his bleeding sarcophagus, with all his mercy,
Even if I hit the open tomb of Ebr-i Nisan, the ceiling
I wish I could extend Süreyya with seven lamps from there.
You are covered in your blood under this chandelier
If I bring the moonlight while I lie down
If I wait until the resurrection, like your tomb
If I lebriz your chandelier with fajr of the day
If I shake the veiled Moorish evenings,
I can't say I could do something again.

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You, who is the last person of the people, broke your state.
the most beloved Sultan of your song, Saladin
You did it like Kılıç Arslan, admiring
Frustration when you are besieging and suffocating Islam
You broke that iron circle on your chest
You, your name that travels with your soul
If you are buried in the ashes, you will overflow alas!
These horizons do not come to you, this jihad will not take you!
O son of a martyr, don't ask me for a martyr, makber
THE PROPHET stands with his palm open to you...

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agglomeration: agglomeration
sun-i fiver: what man does
lebriz
iclal: strength and might