Guerreiro solitário nas montanhas em luto em uma paisagem noturna trágica

Day I go - secret corners night I spend the night - unknown paths; no father, no mother - father to curse, mother to weep... My woe you Pirin mountain! Sea of ​​black Constantinople wine. I fight with an enemy - measure for measure, with a good I enjoy - faith for faith's sake; I have no brother, no sister - brother to praise me, and sister to pity... My woe saber of scorn! Sea of ​​hot Edirne brandy. God worships - let him worship, the king reigns - will he reign forever? I have no love, first love - to wait for me and mourn me... My woe rifle of fire! Sea thin Salonika girl If only, my love, if only, if only your blond hairs were forged gold... I would trade a nice for a nice fed horse, trade for good, to chase Turks! If only, my love, if only, if only your black eyes were fire diamonds... I would trade a nice for a nice rifle boilie, trade for good, to beat Turks! If only, my love, if only, if only your white teeth were pearl beads... I would trade a nice for a nice saber at will, trade for good, to slaughter Turks! A beautiful forest - a pusiya, where a rifle boilie is looking. People are returning from the market, Lazo, the farmer, will go; hey, the beech leaves have fallen - a bullet will catch up with Laza, voivode. - "They are returning with people from the market, Lazo the peasant will pass by; the beech leaves have fallen - misfortune. a bullet will catch Lazo to the grave... And a slap burns my head, the pain torments my soul, my friend." - A rod for a light bulb, a thorn, where a cursed outlaw is eating. Lazo is known throughout the world, a black glutton and in blood; he repays evil to the evil a hero who walks for glory, voivode. - "Lazo is known throughout the world, a black glutton and in blood; he repays evil to the evil one - and let him! - A hero who walks for glory forever... And I am sorry for the pity-fatigue, Laz's daughter burns, my friend. You dream a dream, oh joylessness, a desolate youth, a grave in the wilderness, an orphan's grave under the thick foliage. And on the grave, oh joylessness, a desolate youth, a cross-bow - a heroic cross, and a chicken on the cross. Morning chicken, oh joylessness, a desolate youth, sing, ordering how the orphan orphan has passed. Evening chicken, oh joylessness, a desolate youth, sing, ordering how the hero hero has perished. I dreamed a dream, oh joylessness, a desolate youth, I dreamed a dream, a dream of doom - I dreamed You are a grave...

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