When the cotton flowers bloom,
O noble father,
Bring that season back for me,
O noble father.

That was the season when I lost my song,
Around its neck was the string of separation.
On its face were boils of sorrow,
Its eyes looked like the water of ruined wells.
It had been a song, that when sung,
Released the scent of musk.
O noble father,
Bring back that song for me.
O noble father.

One day my song and I,
In that enchanted season,
Ploughed the earth of my heart,
Sowed it with seeds of undefiled dreams.
But no matter how many tears I poured,
No flower bloomed.
O noble father.
Bring back one flower for me,
O noble father.

What use your fertile lands
If daughters wilt?
What use your great lakes
If the swans are thirsting?
What use your ample wealth,
Your granary of pearls,
O noble father,
If you cannot bring back the season,
When the cotton flower blooms,
O noble father.