O my Mother, dear Motherland
Why weep you so mournfully, so plaintively?
And you, raven, cursed bird -
On whose grave croak you with such a dread?

Ah, I know - I know you're weeping, Mother
Because you are a dismal slave,
Because your holy voice, Mother
Is a helpless voice - a voice in the wilderness.

Weep! There, near the edge of Sofia town
Stretches - I saw it - a dismal gallows
And one of your sons, Bulgaria
Hangs from it with a terrible power.

The raven croaks dreadfully, ominously
Dogs and wolves howl in the fields,
Old people pray to God with fervor
Women weep, children cry.

Winter croons its evil song,
Gales sweep thistle across the field
And cold and frost and hopeless weeping
Heep sorrow on your heart.

Translated by © Thomas Butler. All rights reserved!