Your kishlak has the sweetest of air
Blowing clouds from the summits up there,
Flowing down with a stream thro' the grasses.
Men breathe deep tho' a century passes.
Your kishlak has the sweetest of air.
For such water as yours men may look,
Yet find none in the most distant nook.
Filled with light like your own sunny glances,
Your kishlak has clear water that dances,
Welling springs to fill fountain and brook.
Your kishlak boasts a beauty that's rare.
With your girls there are none to compare.
Sweet their speech, warming all men who hear them.
Soft as wax are our hearts when we're near them.
I would live for a century there!