A woman is sitting on a carpet
Her meal is brewing in a grey kettle
Rings on her fingers, khol around her eyes,
silver rings around her arms
Her head shakes from right to left
moving, in great uncertainty
(Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear)
Wary of the unknown,
the alien, the unseen.
Wary, she watches over her tribe1.
She goes through life sitting on her carpet,
like a jar filled with misfortune and endless love
She goes through life sitting on her carpet,
like a jar filled with misfortune and endless love
Small burn scars on her golden fingers,
her bodice smeared with olive oil
Her tongue in her mouth,
A mouth you'd better not fall into
She does not know the alphabet
In her arms, the youngest son mumbles,
he puts his hand on her face,
his small head under her bared breast
She swings like a spring
so that he warms himself to sleep
She goes through life sitting on her carpet,
like a jar filled with misfortune and endless love
She goes through life sitting on her carpet,
like a jar filled with misfortune and endless love
A woman is sitting on a carpet,
her back against a roughcast wall
A hot tea cup
on a shaky chair
She goes through life sitting on her carpet,
like a jar filled with misfortune and endless love
She goes through life sitting on her carpet,
like a jar filled with misfortune and endless love
1. meant as "her family"