Текст и перевод песни Obbie Messakh - Buah Hati

Buah Hati

Engkau buah hatiku
Engkau buah cintaku
Engkau buah doaku
Tapi bukan buah dada mertuaku

Tangisan pertamamu
Tigabelas september
Ditandai para dokter
Sibuk mengatasi wabah muntaber

Bagaikan anak kecil
Yang gembira main boneka
Kulihat oma mu yang tua
Kegirangan sampai lupa itu bh turun ke bawah

Walau bapakmu kere
Walau doku garadake
Ibarat makan nasi
Lauknya hanya tempe

Demi untuk menebusmu
Buah hatiku sayang
Motor tua semata wayang
Ku kecilkan jadi uang

Aku rindu engkau kelak
Bernyanyi seperi Rhoma Irama
Aku rindu engkau kelak
Jadi seperti bapak Habibie

Tapi kau harus sadar
Hidup ini bukan mainan
Seperti adik dan kawan-kawan
Setiap malam kerjanya mabok-mabokan
Kang nyolong ayam orang

Engkau buah hatiku
Dengarkanlah pesan bapakmu
Jangan suka main perek
Nanti gurumu bisa bengek

Aku rindu engkau kelak
Bernyanyi seperi Rhoma Irama
Aku rindu engkau kelak
Jadi seperti bapak Habibie

Tapi kau harus sadar
Hidup ini bukan mainan
Seperti adik dan kawan-kawan
Setiap malam kerjanya mabok-mabokan
Kang nyolong ayam orang

Engkau buah hatiku
Dengarkanlah pesan bapakmu
Jangan suka main perek
Nanti gurumu bisa bengek

Fruit of My Heart

You are the fruit of my heart
You are the fruit of my love
You are the fruit of my prayers
But not the fruit of my mother-in-law's breasts

Your first cry
September the thirteenth
Noted by the doctors
Busy dealing with the cholera outbreak

Like a little child
Who loves to play with dolls
I see your old grandmother
So excited she forgets her bra has fallen down

Even though your father is poor
Even though our finances are a mess
Like eating rice
With only tempeh as a side dish

To redeem you
Fruit of my heart, my darling
My only beloved motorcycle
I sold it and turned it into money

I miss you, my love
Singing like Rhoma Irama
I miss you, my love
To become like Bapak Habibie

But you must know
Life is not a game
Like your siblings and friends
Whose only work is nightly drunken brawls
Stealing chickens from others

You are the fruit of my heart
Listen to your father's message
Don't play with fire
Or your teacher will be angry

I miss you, my love
Singing like Rhoma Irama
I miss you, my love
To become like Bapak Habibie

But you must know
Life is not a game
Like your siblings and friends
Whose only work is nightly drunken brawls
Stealing chickens from others

You are the fruit of my heart
Listen to your father's message
Don't play with fire
Or your teacher will be angry