O my mother,

I made a hawk my beloved,

A plume on her feet,

Bells on her feet!

She came pecking for grain,

Her beauty was as sharp as sunlight,

And she was thirsty for fragrances!

Third, her colour was like a red rose,

She must be daughter of a very fair mother!

A bed of love,

I laid for her under moonlight!

Sheet of this body was strained,

That very instant when she laid her feet over it!

Corner of my eyes hurt,

A flood of tears engulfed me!

All night long I tried to fathom,

How she could do this to me

Early morning,

With beauty mix,

I scrubbed and bathed her body!

There were flames coming out from the body,

My hand was burned

I cooked food for her,

But she never ate!

So I fed her the flesh of my heart!

He took such a flight,

That she never returned back!

O my mother,

I made a hawk my beloved