LONGING FOR THE SOUTH
If I had the wings of an eagle
I would rise and fly on them
To our shores, to our own parts
To see Stambul, to see Kukush;
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 it does 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 stars.
It is dark here; darkness surrounds me,
It covers all the earth,
Here are frosts and snows and ashes,
Blizzards and harsh winds abound.
Fogs all around, the earth is ice,
And in our breast cold, dark thoughts.
No, I cannot stay here, no;
I cannot look upon these frosts.
Give me wings and I will hurl 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 sets bright in mountain woods:
Younder gifts in great profusion
Richly spread by nature's power.
See the clear lake stretching white
Its blueness darkened by the wind
Look at the plains or mountains:
Beauty's divinly everywhere.
To play the flute there by my heart's content
Ah! let the sun set, let me die.
-Constantine Miladinov, 1830 - 1862
Macedonian Minority of Greece
Macedonian Minority of Bulgaria
Macedonian Minority of Albania
