For me the bride is going to cry,
For me my friends will pay up what I owe.
For me all others will finish singing,
And maybe my enemies will drink to me.

No longer am I given the interesting books,
And my guitar is out of tune.
And I can’t go up, and I can’t go down,
I can’t see the sun, I can’t see the moon.

I can’t go out - I am not permitted,
I can only pace from door to wall,
I can’t turn left, I can’t turn right,
I can only get half of the sky, only dreams.

Dreams of when I’ll be free, When my lock will be removed,
When they’ll return my guitar to me.
Who will meet me there? How they will embrace me?
And what kind of songs they’ll sing to me?