Soven chaven soven

Sleep my children, sleep
just don't ask for food
oh, 'cause your grandmother
is going into the black ground

Come, brothers, sisters
come, from my cradle
My brothers are coming to see
alas, how poor my life is

Don't cry, mother, don't cry,
don't pull out your hair.
Alas, 'cause I have little kids,
I have to live.
RRESFR EN