Çalma Çoban

The shepherd plays his mournful flute
Milking the sheep one by one
My rosy-cheeked lover is taken away
Don't play, shepherd, your flute these days
My poor heart is sick, constantly moaning

The shepherd's flute pierced my heart
My two eyes cry, when did they last smile?
My rosy-cheeked lover is taken by the winds
Don't play, shepherd, your flute these days
My poor heart is sick, constantly moaning