I’m a nightingale; I am moaning and groaning,
I am separated from my new garden of roses.
Shedding bloody tears from my eyes,
I am separated from my beloved sweetheart.
The stibium looks nice on the eyes of my beloved,
I can endlessly describe her looks,
Her mouth is sweet; her lips resemble a flower bud,
I am separated from the one with black curls.
Alas, my soul is impatient,
My soul takes comfort in her cruelty,
Her eyebrows are furrowed with anger,
I am separated from the one, whose eyes remind those of a blood-sucker?
I am separated from my flower bud,
From my beloved with raven hair,
From my nightingale with a tuneful voice,
I am separated from my sweet-worded beloved.
The dream of my crazy soul,
The queen of all the beauties,
The orchard of the eight layers of the Paradise,
I am separated from this orchard.
Her people and land are amazing,
With cool waters and fresh grass,
She comes from the tribe of Goklen, and her name is Mengli,
I am separated from my tender beloved.
Magtymguly, crazy with love,
Has devoted a destan to glorify it.
Her land of birth is a blossoming garden,
I am separated from its apples and pomegranates.