I woke up in the morning to the sound of ezan*
It isn't the sound of ezan, it is mourning of vetch picking, my dear.
Look at that man, how many fields he has.
Oh girls, how hard it is to pick up vetch,
(how hard it is) to be a bride in the vetch field, my dear.
Don't tip your fez** to me, or I'll leave you, my dear.
I'll raze your house to the ground and leave, my dear.
I woke up in the morning and I boil some milk.
I spilled milk's mousse on the floor, my dear.
I lost my mind in the vetch field.
Oh girls, how hard it is to tear up vetch,
(how hard it is) to be a bride in the vetch field, my dear.
Don't tip your fez to me, or I'll leave you, my dear.
I'll raze your house to the ground and leave, my dear.
I swung my hand and it touched a thorn,
I cursed the person who planted the vetch, my dear.
Oh, mother-in-law, may your life come to an early end.
Oh girls, how hard it is to tear up vetch,
(how hard it is) to be a bride in the vetch field, my dear.
Don't tip your fez to me, or I'll leave you, my dear.
I'll raze your house to the ground and leave, my dear.
Don't tip your fez to me, or I'll leave you, my dear.
I'll raze your house to the ground and leave, my dear.
Don't tip your fez to me, or I'll leave you, my dear.
I'll raze your house, my dear...