Türkü

Türküler

TÜRKÜ

In the Turkısh spoken tradition, ‘türkü’ is the word most frequently employed to describe all forms of popular verse accompanied by a melody. It may be sub-divided into lullabies, laments, and other airs and verses.

Examples of the Türkü :

Musically Annotated Türkü

MERCY GREEN VALLEY

Name: The green valley of mercy
Where collected: Hamzabey Village in İnegöl
Annotated by: Hasan Yörenç
İnegöl High School Music Teacher
I brought the wolf down from the mountain,
My horse sweated and stopped.
Let he who leaves his lover
Have no place or home.
Mercy, my lover has gone for a soldier,
Let him you, you damned sergeant.

My radio has a battery,
A bell to one side,
Girls’ handkerchieves
Are in boys’ pockets.
Chorus
Where is my ice-cream?
I do not recall my old love,
I shall never cause my new love
To shed a tear.
Chorus
Stones at the head of the fountain,
My lover mixes the washing,
Lift your hat, my lover
To show your arched eyebrows.
Chorus
I passed by the coffee house
And drank a cup of coffee
I laughed about you
With the owner’s son.
Chorus
I have no money, my lover
To buy a pencil for your eyebrow, my lover
I had word this evening,
Greetings, my lover.
Chorus
Let us go, my lover
To the Wednesday market
Let them place us both
In a lovers’ grave.
Chorus
Next feast of the sacrifice,
Send white goats’ yoghurt
And my lover, oh sergeant,
Let me celebrate here.

Chorus

A non-musically annotated türkü
The Türkü of Mehmet
I did not know, a cruel one was following me,
My blood is flowing, look in my face,
No water can now be poured on my fresh rose,
I fell in love at age seventeen, oh mothers.
I became a target, oh mother, and became a soldier,
I waited to be discharged.
My fiancee had given me a gift,
My older brother my killer, I suffered, oh mothers.
My name was Mehmet, my surname Coşar,
My cruel brother rushes to kill,
My blood runs in torrents,
Let my fiancée wear black, oh mothers.
My brother lay waiting at Pozantı,
Cruel brother, please do not mourn me,
Nightingales sing in the garden
I died before I was fully grown up, oh mothers.
I got on the bus, and got off at Digor,
And headed for Dikenli village,
I fell into your hands,
I have faded like a flower, oh mothers.
They shot me in Maraş,
My unlucky mother waited for me at home,
All my neighbours said I was unlucky,
Look at my black writing, oh mothers.
I joined my detachment and was glad,
I wrote my letter and posted it.
Mother, why did I not laugh when I was young?
Let mothers weep for your unlucky son.
My unlucky mother waited for me,
My fiancée put on mourning clothes when she heard,
My cruel brother murdered me,
The unhappy soldier suffers, mothers.
I sent a telegram when I received permission,
Set out and was glad,
Mourn for the suffering soldier,
I died in the Toros Mountains, oh mothers.
I came at one o’clock, and nobody saw,
Nobody told my parents,
Nobody died in such pain as me,
That was when I was shot, oh mothers.