The Sapanca Lake has its own forecast, in everyone's lips. Now is the time they once again to tell:
Once, there was at the point of the Sapanca Lake fertile land in this country was a rich, prosperous small town. The inhabitants of the town were rich, were wealthy, but they were secular gesonnen, eigenützig and miserly.
On the mountain in the Holy lived one who had gained the sanctity, he had the world entsagt and his heart was full of love and was once in this small town down. He entbot the peace greeting, nobody saluted back, he wanted to remain a guest, no one asked him to guest, to which door he knocked on was slammed in his face. This poor dervish, but had a rich heart, they do not even a glass of water. With the heart of a Dervishes is this: is it just smell, it can not cure, it is cured, it uses the still nothing. In the evening he left tired and dull, hungry and thirsty and the Kleinsttadt after a short way, he drew his steps to a candle light to a small hut entwich. We even knock on this door, and perhaps find a companion here, he thought. This chalet was the workshop of a poor Drechslers, for the inhabitants of the small town of wooden handles manufacturing and so his livelihood deserved. He knocked at the door, a little later opened the door Drechsler his smile:
-- There you go, welcome, warmly willhommen. I have just the pot from the fire. I just asked God, he should send me a guest, he said.
The Dervish was happy to put in the best corner of the hut, the space for guests. The Drechsler, the low tables and sat on everything he had, the Dervish. After lunch, he bed with a mattress stuffed with wood shavings and wished his guest a good night. Early in the morning they stood. The Dervish Drechsler asked the permission to go, Drechsler accompanied him to the opposite hills and brought him on the way. And what he saw on his return? On the site where the city had was a huge lake. No house, no cabin was stopped, no more arable field was more. The huge lake had simply swallowed everything. Except he was no longer alive. The injustice, the Dervish had suffered a broken heart had an entire small town tasted. Since that day called the Sapanca Lake [sapancı Drechsler =]. Erenler Tepesi [Mountain of the Holy] at Adapazarı is also the place where Baba Ağaç [ağaç = tree, Baba = actually father, as a respectful salutation] is buried. No sooner had the spring came Ağaç Baba went down into the forest, planzte to unsolicited Bumsetzlinge fields, trees pulled up. Who Ağaç by Baba herausreißt planted seedlings, or by him großgezogenen trees fälllt, whose hands dried up. That's why nobody could touch the forests. When he died, left Ağaç Baba following Testament:
-- After me, if you want that your children happy, your land is fertile, not stir the trees. If you want that I pray for you, if you for your world and for yourselves in the Hereafter want to do something, planting trees.
Since the death of Baba are Ağaç years, are centuries passed. But it remains to be immortal, popularly fortlebendes Testament. This will be one not only for Sakarya, but for all of Anatolia to heart.
In Sakarya forecast to forecast ... With Anatolia is never finished, part of which is the Sakaraya ... still, but deep. As the poet says:
There is but one river,
Still before he goes down!
One of his name is Anatolia
The other name is ... Sakarya
Verschlossen, deep
His sources, the fairies
Blue, green eyes
Rauben the heart.
His milk holy river
The Mother Nature,
It was born a beautiful city
Your name is Adapazarı!
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