Nightingales yell, the gardener not reply.
Savage picked the rose from Beloved’s yard away
I suffered a thousand times and grown a garden.
I loved the beloved, strangers took away.
I’ve suffered so much; many more on the way
I need a long life to see it again anyway
Cruel fate took my beloved far away
I broke into tears, and the flow away.
I got black news from the beloved.
Lovers weep, nemesis scoffs at me.
When it’s said the poor Emrah to pass away.
Some took picks, shovels, and diggers away.
