In a village where the fog often rolled off the mountains like a heavy blanket, lived a man named Elman. He was known for his voice—a voice that could make the birds stop singing just to listen—but lately, he only sang one melody. It was a call to the "light of his eyes" who had gone away.

Spring came and went many times. The roses bloomed and withered, but Nigar did not return.

Longing, separation, spiritual or romantic devotion.

Years ago, Elman had been part of a pair. He and Nigar were like two halves of the same soul. He called her his "Gül Üzarım" (his rose-faced one), and she called him her peace. But as often happens in stories of great love, fate had other plans. Nigar had to leave for a distant land, promising to return when the spring roses first bloomed.