The Martosi to the top of the Martosi tower

1. To the top of the Martosi, Martosi tower, ; A bird flies in pure black. ; Under its wing is that mourning letter, ; The young man from Martosi is not a soldier, just a recruit. ; ; 2. To the ditch of the Martosi, Martosi cemetery, ; I planted rosemary in its row. ; Water it so that it does not wither, ; May no sorrow remain in your orphaned hearts. ; ; 3. They tied, they tied the wreath for me, ; Branches and twigs fall on my shoulders. ; Its leaves fall on my apron, ; Come to me, come to me this Saturday evening.