What is the use of my black eyes?
My youth is nothing, my happiness flies.
For every day my youth is going:
Lustreless eyes have come through tears,
Faded my eyebrow’s curve appears.
O maidens all, I am sick at heart now—
Like a bird that dies for lack of air
Why should I for my beauty care?
OLD FOLK SONG
O wild horses—where are ye running over the steppes?