All language subtitles for Anadolunun Kayip Sarkilari 2010 1080p WEB-DL DD5.1 H.264-TURG.English

Lock up your room, inside you stay

Lock up your room, inside you stay

The wind it blows my leaves away

Lock up your room, inside you stay

Come over here from far away

Lock up your room, inside you stay

Lock up your room, give me the key

I've had enough of this fleeting life

You've lost all the money

What shall we do now?

See these streams that flow
They're all tears from my eyes

They hold the bazaar in Dirama

All together now!

Between the night and the close of day

Your dusky eyebrows blew me away

Dear visitors, honourable guests,

...welcome to our village of Kuyucak.

I am the violinist Ismail Ozdemir.

Sheep! Are those the highlands you roam?

Sheep! Are those the highlands you roam?

Is that enough?

Okay. They say it's enough!

Flowers miss,

...fresh flowers!

My Mr. Ali sits by the rock

A partridge brings her young to drink

Too much love brings swift separation

"My youth has flown", weeps young Ali

A shepherd

...well, the local Agha had a daughter.

They were going to marry her
off to some fellow.

All night she pleaded to Allah...

...to send a fierce wind and save her.

And the wind came and
Allah rescued that girl.

What can I say?

Oh, I forgot!

Well I've seen a sheep with
its little lamb

Well I've seen a tent laid
out on the land

Since I was little life's been bad

As if that were planned

Are you planting carnations
all over the place?

Are sweetness and light your real face?

All the things you've done to me,
my love

Will you pay for them on the other side?

There are cheerful ones too,
of course...

Well I grazed the sheep,
brought her back to you

Well I fetched her hide,
left it just for you

Well I brought mountain
violets down to you

Back to the fruit, come on now,
won't you?

Roll me a thin cigarette,

I've lost my grip

Minstrels!

After this introduction, I'm going to
give you a hard time, so watch out!

-Long live!
-Show us what you can do!

Seriously, I'm going to hang you guys
from the strings of my saz!

Ah, which one of them can I lean on?

Which of them can I lean on?

One's full, the other's empty

- Great!
- Long live!

Again I'll have to choose a dry one
One's dry, the other's wet

The other's wet.

Man, here they come again

One's the foot, the other's the head

I've never seen them sober

One's drunk, the other's stoned

I know them well, my friends

One's a duck, the other's a bird

Something for nothing? They jump on it.

One's a crow, the other's a vulture

Something for nothing? They jump on it.

One's a crow, the other's a vulture

I wandered around and told my story

But I really needed some company
One's a traitor, the other's a sod

Get up my love, our homes have moved...

...to the highlands of
Bingol and Serefdin

Go up to Bingol, Mount Sipan and...

...To Kosedag; ah, those highlands!

My love, the most beautiful of all
the girls and brides...

...with your colourful eyes
and slender body

Like the green-headed duck of the highlands.
My blond beauty, may joy reign in your father's home.

When you turn on the charm
With your pomegranate cheeks

You taste like Arabian sugar
You're my doctor, you're my cure!

My love, get up and look behind you.
My love, come here my love!

My love. My love..
Come, my beloved!

What a pity! What a shame!

Hey hey, I swear to God it's true!

What a pity! What a shame!

I feel like dying for that short brave man, Salih's father
Two years of loneliness, far away from his home!

Because a tradition of written texts
didn't emerge among the Kurds...

...they developed an oral tradition,

which survives to this day
among the dengbej [Kurdish singers].

The fact that "dengbej" generally
have beautiful...

...voices comes from all the
suffering around here.

Lover my sweat is your medicine

Young lady, you're just
so chic chic chic

Get undressed and let me embrace you

For us, the horon is a ritual. We dance
it when we're happy...

...or carrying a heavy load.

Sometimes we'll be
working in a large group,

...lugging those massive
trees soaked in sweat.

When we're finished, all sweaty,
the horon begins.

We even dance the horon
on sad occasions.

Once, at Campet village,
there was a funeral. Freezing weather.

"Heard this one, Musa?"
It's very cold, the young men...

...huddle around the coffin.

We put a net over it, to protect it.

The young men are standing by the coffin.
The deceased's name was Cordan.

Everyone's cold, standing
there freezing.

Then someone says,
"Why don't we dance a bit?"

Well, they join hands, and with the coffin
in front of them they start to dance the horon!

Hey hey, slowly slowly, quietly
quietly, jigging jigging

...keep on going, let's ask
Cordan, horon horon,

Cordan's gone, get down get down...

Gradually the rhythm builds up
until a relative...

...comes and says,

..."Hey, what are you doing?"

We're cold, so we're dancing.
"Sorry!"

To be honest, I was also getting cold in bed.
Think I'll going to dance a bit too.

You see, these are the signs of youth!

Well now, they call me "Sevki the mad".

Why?

If you don't give in to anyone or harm
anyone, then they call you mad.

I said to my mum,

"Tell dad to be my guide"
I've got nobody in whom I can confide

Let them hang me; put a rope around my
neck. Let's disappear into the hills.

In the old days, we used to sort
the hazelnuts all together.

But now there are machines, so there's
no more sorting hazelnuts in groups.

Girls and boys would sing
for each other

Sing for each other...

...play hazelnut games, joke,

...laugh and chat.

Stuff like that.

And then they'd dance the horon.

In the middle of the bridge, my head in a tizz
Couldn't stop thinking of my mum and my sis

That Monday I set off from my home
And now my zest for life has flown

On Saturday the 16th of August
May that highlanders' stream run dry

The year is 1969
For my lost youth I cry

An apple branch hanging on the door

For picking grapes I have
strength no more

Coming to Izmir was my destiny
Cry dear mum and don't forget me

Don't forget me!

Don't forget me!

Don't forget me!

I can't walk anymore, son. I'm 75...

...and I've still got this
load on my back.

I didn't catch that, aunty.
Could you say it again?

Say it again. I couldn't hear you.

Don't have my hearing-aid with me,
sonny. Can't hear a thing.

You say black and I say white!

What are you up to, boys?

We're photographers, aunty,

...taking pictures of the villages
around here.

Pictures of all the women, huh?

Did someone send you here...

...to get my picture?

-Where are you from?
-Istanbul.

Istanbul, Istanbul.

Well, we've never had anything
like this before!

I lay down by the stream

I lay down by the stream and
I can't awake

I'm an ignorant child

I'm an ignorant child, this passion
I cannot take

I wish I were that old...

...the age of eighteen

Hemsin stream flows

That Hemsin stream would flow
And form a lake at Catduzu

I lay down by the stream

I lay down by the stream
and I can't awake

I'm a simple child

I'm a simple child, this passion
I cannot take

In the old days, we'd go up to
the highlands...

...for festivals, the
so-called "vartigor".

Well, when someone was playing
his bagpipes,

...I got hold of it but he didn't let.

Well, I went down to the village to...

...get bagpipes in return for a rifle.

A bird rifle!

The road will get even steeper
from here up!

My mother sewed me a kaftan

With a waist you could fasten

I'm going to the highlands

I'm going to the highlands
Is this the highland road?

Dedecana roamed in the mountains
And liked Odessa grapes

Machines come and machines go,
What is it that frightens you so?

The floor of this room
You're a good boy, a good dancer

In 1863, when the Adyges migrated
from the Caucasus,

...the Circassians fled to
the Ottoman Empire.

They maintained their customs and
traditions...

...in the areas where they settled.

Through centuries of attrition,
cultures have been...

...worn down, there is not much
left of them to see,

but these cultures live on in the
languages,

folk-songs, rhymes and
tales of the people.

Houses have crumbled and castles
have collapsed, but people haven't!

People passed their own cultures
on by word of mouth.

There was a very devout dede,
an elder of our sect, who lived in Maras.

Another man had a child who
fell seriously ill.

Seriously ill.

He took the boy to many doctors
but couldn't find a cure.

Someone suggested: "Go to the Alevi
dede; ask him to help."

"Let's see what he can do."

Well, he said: "Here's my sick child
dede, come and pray for him."

The dede said: "Give me a horse
and I'll come."

And the man said: "Fine!", so he came.

The child was lying on the bed,
in a coma.

The dede said: "Leave me alone
with the child".

After nightfall, the father went and
listened at the door to hear...

...how the dede was praying.

The dede said: "Don't leave it till
morning. Kill him!"

"Kill him! Come on, don't leave
it till morning. Kill him!"

In the morning, the father knocked
on the door.

"Dede, may I come in?"
The dede said: "Come in."

He went in, and the child wasn't too
bad. The next day, the same story:

"Why don't you kill him, why?"

On the third day, the child said:
"Daddy, I'm hungry."

The father brought some bread
and his son ate it up.

Then the dede said: "The boy's
well now; I'm off."

"All right dede, your horse is
ready." "Good!"

After they left the room, the man said:

"Dede, don't you have any
fear of Allah?"

"For the last three days you've been
pleading for my son to die!"

"Damn, my son!" replied the dede,
"Do you think He and I are on good terms?"

"I asked Him to kill, so He made the boy
better just to spite me."

"If I'd asked Him to make him better,
He'd have killed him."

Esrefoglu, hear my words:
Ours is the garden, we have the rose

We too are slaves of God
Seventy-two tongues are ours

Is it manly to tire a man?
To ask for news from a faraway land?

Like the eight rivers in heaven too
The mighty deluge belongs to us

Take a man who is not lean
Ablutions won't make him clean

How dare we criticise others;
We ourselves bear all the sins!

The bee flies from here to there
It doesn't settle everywhere

And our soul too will sometimes flee
We are the bee, we have the honey

Some are Sufis, some are Pilgrims
But all of us pray to the Almighty

We have the highest Prophet's crown
The cloak, the mantle and the shawl

We are the truth of sublime sages
We are the flowers in the palace gardens

We are the adorers of Hadji Bektash
The road to decency passes through us

A slave I am, this Hasan Dede
It is the tongue that gives the meaning

Alphabet is the right way to God
And all you need is in our hands

This field's a cotton field, come along

This field needs cotton, come along

The workers demand money, come along

The bosses deserve a beating, come along

The foremen demand money, come along

The bosses deserve a telling-off,
come along

This field needs cotton, come along

This field's a cotton field, come along

In the name of God, the Merciful,
the Compassionate.

This is Hatay, Antakya.

It's the road where the so-called
Silk Road began in the olden days

The silk that was produced in
the workshops here...

...was loaded on camels and carried away
to Aleppo, Sinai, Palestine and Japan.

I learned this craft from my father.

But to get where I am today, I suffered a lot.
We suffered from hunger and poverty.

Praised be to Allah, my efforts
were not in vain,

...as I passed this craft
on to my children.

So I've spent all my life in this craft.

But it's a wonderful craft,
very enjoyable.

My loom, oh my loom!

My loom, oh my loom!

How weary I've been, how teary I've been
From fretting for you, my loom

My loom, oh my loom!

You have no equal in this world,
oh my loom

My loom, oh my loom!

Thanks to Allah and you
I could raise my children, oh my loom

My loom, oh my loom!

You have no equal in this world,
oh my loom

Thanks to Allah and you
I established a home, my loom

My loom, oh my loom!

How weary I've been, how teary I've been
From fretting for you, my loom

My darling!

My darling!

Let me die!

Let me die, my darling!

My darling!

Let me die!

Let me die, my darling!

My darling rode on a horse
and got off at our house, I'll lose my mind

May cigarettes be stubbed out on my hand
She had enough of the coming and going

And then the girl next door
brought me the damn news

Saying, "That damn darling of yours
got into a sulk and went back to hers."

My darling!

Let me die!

Let me die, my darling!

Then, at that moment

Like the sun in the rain
My heart melted away with pain

Let me die!

Let me die, my darling!

My love, my rose, my magnolia
I'm off to Anatolia

My love, my rose, my magnolia
I want to go but my feet say no

The swords on our belly are kirmani

The head of our spears bore stones

The state has given the order about us

The order is Sultans,
mountains are ours

This is a handmade loom, 150 years old.

It's what I did my weaving on.

Our mother gave birth to us for the
sake of this loom.

We just can't give up this craft.

How beautiful you've become

In all the time I didn't see you

Your black hair has knotted up

In all the time I didn't plait it

Sing, Karacaoglan, sing!

You know my true value

A man's feelings for his love weaken

In all the time he doesn't embrace her

Anatolia belongs to all of us.
It is the motherland of all of us.

Bless you all!

I'm a Syriac.
Syriacs make great craftspeople.

Look, here's my father and my uncle.
This is their craft.

I went to Istanbul, to America,
to New York, Canada,

...Sweden and Israel, but
I still came back.

My crane bird where have
you come from?

You've enslaved me with your voice

The Armenians' history goes
back a long way.

My father told us that, back
in the village...

...they had everything. They got on
well with their neighbours.

Later, during the war; things changed.

But still they lived happily
together, like brothers and sisters.

My crane bird do you have
news from home?

My crane bird do you have
news from home?

Gomidas Vertabet wrote this song.
Maybe a hundred years ago.

In Anatolia, when people were grazing
their cows,

...they'd sing songs...

...Gomidas would hide behind a tree,
watch them singing, and compose.

After he'd composed these songs, he'd
arrange them for a choir.

He stayed here for many many years,
and later went to Paris but then returned.

He went into exile and died there.

There's no need to rush after the herd

You'll catch it up

My crane bird do you have
news from home?

My crane bird do you have
news from home?

We're not foreigners; we belong here.

Our roots are in Anatolia.

I love you

I love you because you're beautiful

Some Greeks came here
2500 years ago.

Gradually, they took their place
in this mosaic of cultures.

Anatolia includes everything:

All sorts of people, colours
and music here.

I love the world

I love the world because it's beautiful

I love the world because you're in it

The greatest "gift" that the war brought to
Greece was the population exchange.

If those people hadn't come, we wouldn't
have those great composers...

....like Teodorakis or even greater ones,
in my opinion, like Hadjidakis...

...or the ones behind me, like Tsitsanis;
these people wouldn't exist.

Rums [Anatolian Greeks] were
more educated;

Greeks didn't have this education;
they only knew folk music.

When they worked together, a new
kind of music emerged: "Rebetiko".

Erinaki with her ochre
shoes is driving me mad

I speak to her, but she doesn't reply
She dissolves into laughter

Bring me some dope and
coke to knock me out

Rebetiko, harmandali and
ciftetelli dances like that.

We've done our bit, we're off...
Times have changed.

The anguish my love for you causes
Is ruining me more and more

The anguish my love for you causes
Is ruining me more and more

Your absence has poisoned
me more and more

The anguish my love for you causes
Is ruining me more and more

The anguish my love for you causes
Is ruining me more and more

Your absence has
poisoned me more and more

The anguish my love for you causes
Your absence has poisoned me more and more

Since I've been without your
blinding beauty

I've been enchanted by false
tongues more and more

My heart just can't find a
cure to this pain

The torment within me has
increased since you left

Hear my pleas!

I'm withering away

May you mourn like a
nightingale more and more

A crippling complaint
never killed a soul

But this bard Kani is fading
away more and more

My Harun is exhausted
Resting on the rock floor

His wound so deep
No cure, no doctor

Hey there, the one for whom I sacrificed
myself. The one whom I adore!

I'm all over the place

Hey there, my beloved, I'm like a
snowflake Floating over the sea

I'm a deep dark cloud
Floating over the sea

Just in case you ask, I am the Good
friend of Ismail, the father of Mehbo

A real man never goes back

Hey brave man; I'm all alone

In honour of the Christians of Midyat!

- This night of ours is beautiful
- Maybe I'll come, maybe I'll come to you

- I'm a slave to your dark eyes
- Maybe I'll come, maybe I'll come to you

- I'm a slave to your exquisite breasts
- Maybe I'll come along with you

- It's so wonderful to kiss you
- Maybe I'll come. You go ahead and I'll come after you

- Like the people of Kefirze going to harvest the grapes
- Maybe I'll come along with you

- I called and called but she didn't come
- Maybe I'll come along with you

- How nice it would be to kiss you
- You go ahead and I'll come after

- My heart cries out for you
- Come to me, come

- Let me kiss you when spring comes
- You go ahead and I'll come after you

- I'm your servant, come darling
- Maybe I'll come along with you

-Let me eat the tip of your lip
- You go ahead and I'll come after you

- Instead of eating dinner
- Maybe I'll come with you

- This night of ours is beautiful
- Maybe I'll come, maybe I'll come to you

They bombed this place but
couldn't knock it down.

-There were 200 sheep up in the hills...

...but the wolves ate them all up.

This here is a place of worship.

Just like we have our mosques,
they have their temples.

When a Jewish boy becomes 13,
he has this put on him...

...during a ceremony.
There are prayers inside it.

These prayers appeal to our
hearts and minds,

...telling us about our responsibility
towards Allah.

Hey you demoiselle cranes down there!

My demoiselle crane isn't among you!

Our religion is very old and
came before all the prophets.

We are Yazidis, we worship Taus-e-Malak.
We worship Allah too.

The sun and the moon are holy for us.

Because every plant needs
the sun to grow.

We see the moon, the stars,
and the sun as holy.

That's what our faith is like,
I don't know about yours.

Come! Come anyway!
Whoever you may be

Whether you are a heathen or worship
idols or fire. Come anyway!

Our house is a house of hope
Not of despair

Whoever you may be, come all the same!

"Where are you from?" I asked
As if mocking me, the reply came

I'm half from Turkistan half
from Fergana...

...Half water and soil, half
heart and soul...

...Half sea, half pearl!

So, we're family, not strangers.
Be my friend I said

Friends or strangers, they are all
the same to me! he said, smiling

I am you and you are me
If that's so, why all this strife?

Flowers, flowers! Come on dear!
Fresh flovers!

A tiny stream, sweep it up
Dear Cano, my love

She sweeps the house and the dust flies
Dear Cano, my love

Your broom is made of willow
Dear Cano, my love

Give the broom to the Kirmandji
Dear Cano, my love

I can go, I think you should know
Dear Cano, my love

That stream is Dear Cano, my love

Rawhide sandals on her feet
Dear Cano, my love

Don't give your girl to a man from Kotek
Dear Cano, my love

The midday heat
Dear Cano, my love

Will torture you
Dear Cano, my love

My carnation, my pepper
Dear Cano, my love

I'm the village beauty
Dear Cano, my love

In the mountains, I gathered tinder
Dear Cano, my love

How wonderful it is to be young
Dear Cano, my love

To love a girl when you're young
Dear Cano, my love

The clover by this stream
Dear Cano, my love

Clover upon clover
Dear Cano, my love

May lovers get the ones they love
Dear Cano, my love

Over there sits a bird
Dear Cano, my love

One bird takes food to the other
Dear Cano, my love

A subtle flirt
Dear Cano, my love

Oh, I'm tired!

- So you live here, aunty?
- Yes, there!

Where? Over there?

- Have you never been to Istanbul?
- No, never.

- Don't they take you to Istanbul?
- No, they don't.

- I'm always inside, like a chicken.
- So you're saying "I live like a chicken?"

Those songs they have on TV today.
I don't know them.

Your songs are better than the
ones on TV, right?

Yes, mine are fine.

Everybody loves their own songs,
don't they?

Well, I love mine!