The moon is slightly shinning
Over her face…
In the charming Turkey…
The sweetest place…
For tonight, she is my tea with ginger.
What do you call this drink?
For tonight, she is my lament on violin…
What do you call this music?
Be proud of you bosom…My Lady.
I am captured by your bosom…My Lady.
As everything is sleeping,
Let us take a walk.
As I don't speak Turkish,
Let us not talk.
Keep your hand on my heart and kiss me.
Without using words, say you love me.
Close my eyes with a sweet Turkish kiss.
I am ready to pass away after I taste your lips.
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MOB
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