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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bI2XYEjZdwE

Любовная песня "komitas" - так называли македонских горцев, восставших в нач. XX века против Оттоманских захватчиков.

(Grieve, Zare, let us grieve -- from Vranye region)

"Grieve, Zare, let us grieve for we're going to separate -

You from me, me from you. I'm going far away.

I'm going far away to remote white Vranye,

I'm going to join komitas, join komitas as a young komita.

And I'll take a royal saber and all those royal weapons,

And I'll go all the way to Pchinya, all the way to Pchinya in the Preshevo valley,

And I'll cross the waters of Vardar, really big waters of Vardar,

To fight those Turks, those Turk-Arnauts.

Grieve, cry, let us grieve. When the Sun shines,

When the Sun shines, think of it as a gift from God,

Know it's my, know it's my pale face,

Know it's my, know it's my pale face.

When the wind breezes think of it as a gift from God,

And say it's my, it's my mild soul.

When the dew falls think of it as a gift from God,

And say those are my tears, those are my heavy tears."