Tell me truly, little gypsy
Do you hail from India
Persia, Siam, in the mountains
Or the coasts of Libya
Are your trinkets, sequins, bangles
Meant to shelter from all harm
Golden earrings, velvet ribbons
Colored bodkins keep you warm
Laces, ribbons, flowered sashes
Pearls in rows all dangling down
Is your costume and demeanor
Like the greasepaint of a clown
In the distance is your wagon
Painted boldly, like a toy
Is your life as bright and jolly
Stealing kisses from a boy
When the violins at even
Start the tragic songs of old
Voices mingling by the campfire
Do you cry or still act bold
Soon it's time to move the family
Horses, dogs and children small
Leaving yet another valley
Will you miss it not at all
Are your soul and body fashioned
From a cloth of ancient weave
Strands of silver, fringes scarlet
Asking you to never grieve
Little gypsy, tell me truly
Please don't fool me with a lie
When you leave another village
Do you really mean goodbye?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What colour and culture you portray in this poem, 'from a cloth of ancient weave', fantastic!