The herald who reads the order of the beyond to the age. The breath that melts the icebergs before civilization. The companion of Hacı Bayram without a staff, of Mevlânâ without a turban, and of Fatih without a state. The pen that wrote the code of Anatolia. The poet who embodies Nef'î in satire, Şeyh Galip in love, and Fuzûli in art. The dervish who traverses in Italian shoes the paths Yunus walked in rawhide sandals. The inviter who cried, “Behold, come!” in an era when saying “Allah” was forbidden. The thinker who melts the reason of the West in the hearth of the East’s love. The sufi walking in the wake of the golden chain. The fortress that the filth of blasphemy could not stain. Action itself, the total expression of thought. The “Great Teacher” of Mâverâ and İFAM. The sufferer of the age, the loyal companion of the “supreme ordeal.” The lover of truth who said to those claiming the nation would find happiness with a hat, “Wait, it will come, the new that does not age, does not fade.” The spokesman for the oppressed and the suffering. The defender of religion, language, and nation who said the nightingale does not learn the language of the frog. The beautiful articulator of the Most Beautiful. The last thinker of the Great East. The inviter whose coffin was committed to the grave with the testimony of millions, and whose passion was committed to their hearts…