Qizil Olma [English translation]

High on a branch there was a red ripe apple,

Picked it, looked at it - warm eaten.

High on a branch there was a red ripe apple,

Picked it, looked at it - warm eaten.

I threw it out, it began to yell:

"If she is throwing me out, then what did she take me for?"

I threw it out, it began to yell:

"If she is throwing me out, then what did she take me for?"

Red apple, red aplle was ripe,

Picked it, looked at it - warm eaten.

Red apple, red aplle was ripe,

What a passion dropped on my* head.

My heart, hey, what thought tortures you?

Let the way to our love be in this garden.

My heart, hey, what thought tortures you?

Let the way to our love be in this garden.

High on a branch there was a red ripe apple,

Picked it, looked at it - warm eaten.

High on a branch there was a red ripe apple,

Picked it, looked at it - warm eaten.

Red apple, red apple, I am beaten,

Now I knew what does "the world-orphan" means.

Red apple, red apple, I am beaten,

Now I knew what does "the world-orphan" means.

High on a branch there was a red ripe apple,

What a passion dropped on my* head.

High on a branch there was a red ripe apple,

Picked it, looked at it - warm eaten.

• Artist:Yulduz Usmonova