I am listening to Istanbul, my eyes closed; First a soft breeze blows; Slowly they stir The leaves in the trees: Distant, very distant, The water carrier's endless ringing grows; I am listening to Istanbul, my eyes closed; I am listening to Istanbul, my eyes closed; Just then birds fly by; High up, in huge flocks, screaming. Fishing nets are being drawn out of the water; The water touches a woman's toes; I am listening to Istanbul, my eyes closed; I am listening to Istanbul, my eyes closed; The cool covered bazaar; The crowded Mahmutpasa market; Pigeon filled courtyards. The sound of hammers come from the docks, The smell of sweat and the spring breeze juxtaposed; I am listening to Istanbul, my eyes closed; I am listening to Istanbul, my eyes closed; A villa with it's secluded boathouses, Drunk with the flavor of past days; Under a dying south wind's force I am listening to Istanbul, my eyes closed; I am listening to Istanbul, my eyes closed; A coquette walks down the street; Swearing, singing and approaches galore. Something falls from her hand to the ground; It must be a rose; I am listening to Istanbul, my eyes closed; I am listening to Istanbul, my eyes closed; A bird flutters about your skirt; I know that your face is flushed; I know that your lips are wet; A white moon is rising behind the trees I can tell; your hearbeat is so full; I am listening to Istanbul.
Last updated on 13 July 1995 by A. Galip Ulsoy (ulsoy@umich.edu)