Longing for the South

How could I spread my eagle wings,
and fly to our lands
to our places,
to see Istanbul, Kukush,
to see if the sun shines there as darkly as here.

If the sun meets me here;
if the sun shines again darkly,
I will fasten myself on a distant path,
and run away to other lands,
where the sun shines brightly,
where the sky is sown with stars.

Here it is dark and darkness envelops me
and a dark fog covers the earth,
with frost and snow, and ash heaps,
strong winds and whirlwinds,
around the fog and frost of the earth,
and in my chest with cold and dark thoughts.

No, I can't sit here,
no, I can't watch it with the cold!
Give me wings to spread
and fly over our own lands;
to our own places to go,
to see Ohrid, to see Struga.

There the dawn warms the soul,
and the sun sets brightly in the forest;
there the gifts of nature's power
with what splendor have scattered them:
you look at a clear lake, white,
and it is darkened by the wind, blue:
you look at a field, or a mountain,
always divine beauty.
There I can play the kaval in my heart,
the sun sets, and I can die.