My beloved, when you walk,
I am proud of your cypress-like stature.
An outfit made of flowers,
Fits your wonderful stature nicely.
I am a nightingale suffering because of you,
You have taken my soul as a sacrifice for you,
Let the belt left behind by Zuleyha,
Be fitting for your stature.
My only wish will be fulfilled if I can see your face,
Let my soul freeze in a severe wind,
You are my fate, religion and belief,
I do respect your beautiful stature.
My love for you makes me cry,
I am accustomed to tolerate the pain,
And suffer throughout my entire life,
Over your stature in your night clothing.
He who is in love, will sacrifice himself to see you,
He will abandon his people,
Magtymguly will become a beggar,
For your stature that is like a miracle.