I want to fall in love with that country lad again,
who wakes at dawn and works till dusk,
and goes back to the few friends with whom he has grown up with.
On his way back eyes, his beloved through the open window
which she keeps open in every season and fall,
and brings her an ear ring sometimes from the market shop.

How I long to belong to him
Who knows all the street from and back home
Who enjoys the entertainments that are held once a year in his town
Who is far away from the complicacy of the modern world, poetry and books
And the power relation
For whom sunday means a fish curry and an afternoon nap
Now standing in this busy bay of life
Lord knows how I long to belong to thee