Ән мәтіні
[Куплет 1] At first pale blue, old mateo mends The net his father used to lend Salt on his hands, a knot pulled tight He tells the sea what it showed last night [Қайырма] “Out past the reef, where the warm waves turn, Silver fish make the morning burn. Keep your hands sure, let the old knots hold— Every tide has a tale to be told.” [Куплет 2] He saw a turtle drift beneath A patch of sun on water’s teeth A flying fish leapt, bright and quick, Then vanished past the bobbing skiff [Қайырма] “Out past the reef, where the warm waves turn, Silver fish make the morning burn. Keep your hands sure, let the old knots hold— Every tide has a tale to be told.” [Көпір] The harbor wakes; a kettle sings A gull dips low on tilted wings He folds the net as day comes clear, And leaves one story waiting here [Қайырма] “Out past the reef, where the warm waves turn, Silver fish make the morning burn. Keep your hands sure, let the old knots hold— Every tide has a tale to be told.” [Аутро] The tide rolls in, the boats set out, Mateo smiles and casts about.
