English She sits by the window She sits by the window, combing her hair. For you she is a whore and for me she is a saint.
People have a mouth and their gossip travels everywhere.
But Rachela is mine, and I am just for her. In the evening as I leave for the meadows, alone. And Rachela is not with me - nor is my soul. Oh, wheat grains, wheat stems, to Rachela carry my name.