Turk

He thought about the world,

Always burning the candlelight.

But now you see it's not so,

A burden on her heart, no comfort.

His word was the most beautiful flower

Sometimes like a rose blossom

The rusty moustache was smouldering,

Hungarian Zeus laughed at me

Her old mind was sad with grief,

Blessed is his beautiful memory.

She was a candle, her light shines,

From my eyes a tear dripped.

Mezei Karsa XII. H