KATABIM…a memory of Istanbul and childhood. Oh…those Turks!

Üsküdar’a gider iken
aldı da bir yağmur
Kâtibimin setresi uzun,
eteği çamur
Kâtip uykudan uyanmış,
gözleri mahmur
Kâtip benim, ben kâtibin,
el ne karışır?
Kâtibime kolalı da gömlek
ne güzel yaraşır

Üsküdar’a gider iken
bir mendil buldum
Mendilimin içine
lokum doldurdum
Ben yarimi arar iken
yanımda buldum
Kâtip benim, ben kâtibin,
el ne karışır?
Kâtibime kolalı da gömlek
ne güzel yaraşır

When going to Üsküdar, it began to rain

long is the coat of my scribe, its sleeves get muddy.

The scribe woke up, his eyes are still sleepy.

I am of my scribe and my scribe is mine, it’s nobody’s business.

How well the stiff shirt collar suits my scribe!

When going to Üsküdar, I found a kerchief

I filled it with lokum (Turkish sweet)

When looking for my helper, I found him on my side.

I am of my scribe and my scribe is mine, it’s nobody’s business.

How well the stiff shirt collar suits my scribe!

“This is the tune that drove us CRAZY as little children…

We went and discovered its source, sang what we remembered, then, identified…danced & danced as the Istanbul restaurant’s  musicians played for us…

In a childish trance of joy!!!”