Being drowned in the mud of sufferings due to separation,
My sleep deprived eyes will search for the peaceful land.
A nightingale, which spent too many years in the cage of moaning and howling,
Will search for red flowers when freed.
My beloved land, I will cover; long distances searching for you,
My eyes are filled with sand, my state is wretched,
Neglected and worn out weirs by the river banks,
Will search for oceans and floods, shedding their tears.
The passion of souls dressed in burning clothes,
The thrones and palaces left without rulers,
Poor lovers wandering around in search of their beloved,
Will search for their tall beloved with dark eyes and slender waist.
Impatient souls, incapable bodies,
If blood of the innocent people is shed,
They will be flying like butterflies over the spring flowers
And will search for early morning wind in the spring.
Speechless mouths, ugly faces,
Black eyebrows, arrow like eyelashes, those black eyes,
Inappropriate talks, meaningless words,
They will go beyond the secret places, and will search for the deaf and dumb.
Stupid kings, powerless viziers, those slaves,
Slim waists, tall like cypress trees, white and long arms,
The tracery of the soul, wishes seen in dreams,
They will look for gold, diamonds, pearls, treasures and wealth.
Magtymguly, both poor and rich,
Bows with no arrows, and no strings,
The time, the days and months that passed,
The time will move forward searching for a new year.