Martchû kudjâm rotch int? (What day is it?)
Âros mâ e kudjâm rotch-â int? (What day of the month is the wedding?)
My heart is close to stopping beating
The clouds pass quickly in the icy sky

Zânân ke aur bît (Maybe it will rain?)
Manî tab djwân na-int (I don’t feel well)
And this night that never ends
In Shalkot the fog surrounds the brick houses

A mâlâchi (grasshopper) has stolen my spirits
I walk unconcerned in the fields of cotton and sugar beet
In search of a stream to wash my face
The sorud viola accompanies my every step

In the dark night with silver threads
I walked for a long time in search of the day
I was alone, your ghostly silhouette at my side,
I met an old man, he told me these words:

Washâtkae (welcome) in the hell of the birds
Allah-â sipârog-ae (may God protect you) may he watch over your dreams
A dandesk (bee) came to sting the snow
Its sting left traces in the powder

I prayed on my knees in front of a lake of ice
The sky began to turn zardâlu (apricot)
If I am to nâzenag (love) the day as much as the night,
I need some sharâb (alcohol) to stay alive,

A dratchk (tree) shades the earth with its swaying,
A moko (spider) ran down my neck, I froze
On the earth of Baluchistan,
I thought of you, in your silver city

My resh (wound) opened up again, the light seeped in
The day had stabbed the night
And I waited with my face in the wet earth
For your silhouette to disappear from the limbo of my soul

Martchû kudjâm rotch int? (What day is it?)
Âros mâ e kudjâm rotch-â int (What day of the month is the wedding?)
This treacherous âzmân (sky) reflects each of my tears,
And behind the hill I see a foreign city,

I will go to conquer the future in another country
Forgetting the woman who abandoned me to my fate
Love is a khatarnâk (dangerous) journey, a melancholy of roses
I have lost much time on the road of sighs

I am jand (tired), I seek a stream to wash my face
But the earth cracks under my steps and this country rejects me,
Only one star shone in my soul this morning, it is extinguished
And Quette disappears in the smoke of my bitterness

Is there a border to my pain
A rope to tie the boat of my dreams
To the pontoon of the future? I will walk without stopping in the pink desert
Until the storm hits me like a seal

I will walk, I am cold, I am feverish,
But âzât (free), delivered from your smile
I’ll walk to the next town
To forget the day of your wedding

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