Ninib Ablahad Lahdo: Ħulme d´Golutho (Bi Nukhrayto) - Dreams in Exile (In the Foreign) Bi nukhrayto ħushwiwayna - In the foreign [land] we'd believed, Qusre rabe gd bonina - Castles [of] greatness we'd be counting. Eshne azen u aħna kalye - Years have gone by, and we're idle. Bi brithathe ko foshrina - In this world we're dissolving [away]. . . . [CHORUS] Waylan waylan l'mn matina - Woe to us! What have we come to? Star mi hawa l'gd ħosdina - Brace from the wind, we won't harvest. . . . Lo taʕino ħlitho dlebi - I haven't forgotten, sweetheart, I fadono du duorawo - The plowed field of that thresher. U athi l'boli u saidawo - And I recall that hunt, D'qaqwone du turawo - Of the quail of that mountain. . . . ʕal ħawroni ko mshayalno - [On] my friends I ask [about], Tralli tamo u msakarno - I left them there, and I'm lost. Ema gdoʕri a yawmanek - When will they return, those days? Bilħudi ko midaywano - On my own I go mad! . . . Sahyono l'maye di biro - I thirst; for the water of the well; Lu tanuro d'kityo jghiro - To the wood-oven that is alit; L'bartho ħlitho mu athraydi - For a daughter of beauty from my land; D'ħuba l'ʕolam lebi ħfiro - For her love, forever, my heart is dug out. . . .
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Ninib Ablahad Lahdo:
Ħulme d´Golutho (Bi Nukhrayto) - Dreams in Exile (In the Foreign)
Bi nukhrayto ħushwiwayna - In the foreign [land] we'd believed,
Qusre rabe gd bonina - Castles [of] greatness we'd be counting.
Eshne azen u aħna kalye - Years have gone by, and we're idle.
Bi brithathe ko foshrina - In this world we're dissolving [away].
. . . [CHORUS]
Waylan waylan l'mn matina - Woe to us! What have we come to?
Star mi hawa l'gd ħosdina - Brace from the wind, we won't harvest.
. . .
Lo taʕino ħlitho dlebi - I haven't forgotten, sweetheart,
I fadono du duorawo - The plowed field of that thresher.
U athi l'boli u saidawo - And I recall that hunt,
D'qaqwone du turawo - Of the quail of that mountain.
. . .
ʕal ħawroni ko mshayalno - [On] my friends I ask [about],
Tralli tamo u msakarno - I left them there, and I'm lost.
Ema gdoʕri a yawmanek - When will they return, those days?
Bilħudi ko midaywano - On my own I go mad!
. . .
Sahyono l'maye di biro - I thirst; for the water of the well;
Lu tanuro d'kityo jghiro - To the wood-oven that is alit;
L'bartho ħlitho mu athraydi - For a daughter of beauty from my land;
D'ħuba l'ʕolam lebi ħfiro - For her love, forever, my heart is dug out.
. . .