If I had an eagle's wings
I would rise and fly on them
To our shores, to our own parts,
To See Stambol, to See Kukuš;
And to watch the sunrise: is it
Dim there too, as it is here?

If the sun still rises dimly,
If it meets me there as here,
I'll prepare for further travels,
I shall flee to other shores
Where the sunrise, greets me brightly,
And the sky is sewn with the stars.

It is dark here, dark surrounds me,
Dark for covers all the earth,
Here are frost and snow and ashes,
Blizzards and harsh winds abound,
Fogs all around, the earth is ice,
And in the breast are cold, dark thoughts.

No, I cannot stay here, no;
I cannot upon this frosts.
Give me wings and I will don them;
I will fly to our own shores,
Go once more to our own places,
Go to Ohrid and to Struga.

There the sunrise warms the soul,
The sun gets bright in mountain woods:
Younder gifts in great profusion
Richly spread by nature's power.
See the clear lake stretching white-
Or bluely darkened by the wind,
Look you at the plains or mountains:
Beauty' everywhere divine.

To pipe there to my heart's content!
Ah! let the sun set, let me die.

Eagle's wings were I to drape, 
and to our side upon them escape!
To our places I would travel,
revel at Struga, at Kukus I'd revel:
to see if the sun also there
bleakly rises, as it does here.

If again the sun should meet me,
if again bleakly it's shine greets me;
on a path distant I'll commit to labour, 
and in different places I'll take cover, 
where the sun bright is rising, 
where the heaven stars is sowing.

Here it's dark, in darkness I'm dressed, 
and in dark mist the earth is oppressed:
ice and snow, and cinders,
strong winds, and gales;
cloaked in destiny's mist and frost,
a chill in breast, and most dark thoughts.

No, I cannot here just stay:
no, I cannot face ice-grey:
give to me wings that I can drape,
and to our side upon them escape,
To our places I would travel,
revel at Oxrid, at Struga I'd revel.

There dawn warms the soul;
there faith - with natural vigor
gifts had spread with majestic splendor:
serene lake turns crystal-clear,
and the breeze disturbs this clear;
see the field or mountain-range,
everywhere God's beauty gauge. 

There by heart the flute I'd play
sun may set, in peace I die.
(Alternative translation by Toni Momiroski) 

Orelski krilja kak da si metneh,
i v nashi strni da si preletneh
na nashi mesta ja da si idam,
da vidam Stambol, Kukush da vidam,
da vidam dali s'nce i tamo
mrachno ugrevjat kako i vamo.

Ako kak ovde s'nce me sretit;
ako pak mrachno s'nceto svetit,
na p't dalechni ja kje se stegnam,
i v drugi str'ni kje si pobegnam,
k'de s'nceto svetlo ugrevjat,
k'de neboto dzvezdi posevjat.

Ovde je mrachno i mrak m'obviva
i temna m'gla zemja pokriva,
mrazoj i snegoj, i pepelnici,
silni vetrishcha i vijulici,
okolu m'gli i mrazoj zemni,
a v gr'di studoj, i misli temni.

Ne, ja ne mozham ovde da sedam,
ne, ja ne mozham mrazoj da gledam!
Dajte mi krilja ja da si metnam
i v nashi str'ni da si preletnam;
na nashi mesta ja da si idam,
da vidam Ohrid, Struga da vidam.

Tamo zorata greit dushata,
i sn'ce svetlo zajdvit v gorata;
tamo darbite prirodna sila
so s'ta raskosh gi rasturila:
bistro ezero gledash beleit,
i si od vetar sino temneit:
pole poglednish, ili planina,
segde bozheva je hubavina.
Tamo po srce v kaval da sviram,
s'nce da zajdvit, ja da umiram.