OUR HANDS.
.
Spring has come from the sound of sheep and lambs.
How beautiful are our hands..
From the early morning breeze.
How beautiful are our hands..
.
The trees are covered with flowers.
The beauties swayed and walked to the countryside.
The rain fell, the black soil rotted.
How beautiful are our hands..
.
The small streams flow with a gurgle.
The village's vineyards are in bloom.
How beautiful the mountains opposite look.
How beautiful are our hands..
.
Our village's name is Bayram Village.
It takes its name from its mother and father advice.
The dry willow has become green.
How beautiful are our hands..
.
Garip Ünal tells the things that happen.
The cold winters are far away.
Tiny birds jump from branch to branch.
How beautiful are our hands.