Hey fancy-faced, longer-haired, cypress-figured belle,
Because of you I moan and wail, like a nightingale.
As a bird my soul is a trophy of your eyes –
So that two of your hunters will undoubtedly tail.
Looks like you only mastered the secrets of flirtation,
As if your teacher did – teaching allegiance – fail.
You become more offensive when you see my teardrops,
That’s right, without water, steel can’t be sharpened well.
Those cracks of the mountain once crushed by Farhod
As opposed to his heartbreak are a little tiny cell.
A lifeless man’s not buried every day, but your eyes daily
With lashes kill and bury me, letting me not dwell.
In the flower garden, the rose petals are a nail
To pluck the nightingale’s wings, to announce a death bell.
What is wrong with acting so foolishly like Navoi,
For a man who has a beauty, which is looking swell.
