Not a day didst thou go out angry.
Thou art a branch of willow, my daughter,
Thou art a branch of willow, thou.
On thy strands thou puttest the coins,
Dangling the coins from thy head.
Thou’rt a branch of riḥân,[[67]] O daughter,
A branch of riḥân art thou.
On the braids thou puttest silver dollars,
On the braids the coins, O thou!
Do not go from my house, my pet,