Your forehead is gold black (I don't remember if they wrote thus in a song) Your forehead is threaded with eyes and light (I don't remember if they rhymed thus in a song) But for whom you will be His life is full of song.
Your pink robe is woolly and soft You wrap yourself in it always in the time of night. I would not like to be a brother to you. Not a monk praying to his image of an angel. And seeing sad dreams of holiness And opposite him, you are a woman...
You love to be sad and silent To hear a story about a relative or distance. And I, who not once will look at you quietly Hear no voice or words Forget everything about others.
My soul lives between the walls of your house And it's captured between your walls it is separated from me. When I'm in my body separated from you.
Spread out is my dream like a carpet for your feet. Step, oh Loved One, on its flowers your steps Wear your pink robe for the time of night Yet a little [time] and I will come to you. And your forehead is adorned gold and black It will come near to my lip like a rhyme to a song Then I will whisper in your ears till morning, till light Like someone drunk... Атур Мицхэх
Атур мицхэх заhав шахор (ейнэни зохер им катву ках бэшир) мицхэх митхарез им ейнаим веор, (ейнэни зохер им харзу ках бэшир) ах леми шетиhьи хаяв млей шир.
Халукех hаварод цамрири верах. Ат бо митъатефет тамид леэт лайл. Ло hаити роце лиhьот лaх ах, ло назир митьпалель лидмуто шель мальах вероэ халомот агумим шель кдуша умуло ат иша...