O tell me, where my daughter is!
Where the dasughter whom grew I up,
Reared and looked after so much so care,
Shading the from the sun and shower,
Say, say you,
where she is!
O, ask yopu, ask you not,
Your daughter,
Your daughter lies, lies it there!
My God, my God, O, my God,
What are you showing to me, Cruel Destiny,
Proud Master,
Is this am I to see,
The poor daughter of mine lying poorly,
In a pool of blood!
O, o, my...,
What to do it now,
Where to go,
My daughter lies she dead and headless,
Everythine is there,
But lying she headless
Near the tracks
Bombed by the ultras!
O, where to go with the dead body of the daughter
Lying she headlessly,
But in a pretty frock,
Who are they wo have snatched her
As for bloody power and politics!
My daughter, though I have nothing to do,
May your soul rest in peace,
May you rest!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem