A lad was killed
For his yellow brass harness,
And was thrown into the Tisza river
For his good saddle, for his chestnut horse.
Tisza didn't take him in,
It threw him to the shore,
Along comes a poor fisherman
Who pitied him, took him in his boat.
He took him in his boat,
Took him to his homeland.
To his homeland, to his homeland
And laid him down on the green field,
Along comes his father,
Tries to wake him but he doesn’t hear:
Wake up, my son, my dear son,
Come with me, let's go, let’s go home!
He can't come home anymore,
I can’t see him anymore, his straw-colored hair, his curly hair
Is frozen onto his shoulders.
He can't come home anymore,
I can’t see him anymore, his straw-colored hair, his curly hair
Is frozen onto his shoulders.
Along comes his partner,
Tries to wake him and he does hear her,
Wake up, wake up, my love,
Come with me, let’s go, let's go home!
- Will you mourn me, my rose
For one or two or three years?
- I will mourn you, my love,
For three times nine years!
I’ll hear about you,
My sweet rose, in the words of chants,
A song will be born and it’ll treasure my destiny,
The destiny of a girl who never got married.
I’ll hear about you,
My sweet rose, in the words of chants,
A song will be born and it’ll treasure my destiny,
The destiny of a girl who never got married.
You will hear about me, my sweet rose,
In the voice of the wind at dawn,
I loved you as much as I loved the bright daylight,
And you will remember me.
You will hear about me, my sweet rose,
In the voice of the wind at dawn,
I loved you as much as I loved the bright daylight,
And you will remember me.