You call me "poor girl"

You call me "poor girl";

You're wrong - I am not poor.

Why don't you, out of curiosity, tear yourself

From the arms of sleep,

And see my lowly hut,

When in beauty the sun

Rises in the morning sky:

Its roof is pure gold!

Come in the evening, when the sun

Is already sinking into the sea,

And see my only window,

How it sparkles with topaz jewels!