they are joy.
Our womenfolk come out from the flowers,
come out from sheaves of straw,
Bound out from the woods and waters.
Our women are red like mountain fruit,
The fragrance of paduk stones
gathered from the sea,
They are warm like sea currents.
Our women feed goats with green grass,
Water oxen at streams,
Breed mallard eggs, fine white eggs.
Our women embroider love birds.
They like to go barefoot; they're shy.
Our women part their mothers’ hair,
Boast of their fathers’ beards,
are constantly teasing.
Our womenfolk relish raw chestnuts,
walnuts, strawberries, potatoes.
Our women's elbows are round,
their foreheads fair
Their hair is the grass of spring,
their shoulders the moon when full.
Our womenfolk come out from the flowers,
come out from sheaves of straw,
Bound out from the woods and waters.
Our women are red like mountain fruit,
The fragrance of paduk stones
gathered from the sea,
They are warm like sea currents.
Our women feed goats with green grass,
Water oxen at streams,
Breed mallard eggs, fine white eggs.
Our women embroider love birds.
They like to go barefoot; they're shy.
Our women part their mothers’ hair,
Boast of their fathers’ beards,
are constantly teasing.
Our womenfolk relish raw chestnuts,
walnuts, strawberries, potatoes.
Our women's elbows are round,
their foreheads fair
Their hair is the grass of spring,
their shoulders the moon when full.
