When Kosovo was in pain
In pain and wounds were we
I crossed bridges and roads
Just for a new song of hers

Like a thug of the killed century
I used to find roads towards Albania
And I stopped in the shore of the Shkumbin river
To meet the deer of those songs of mine

I opened the door after midnight,
Pouring and pouring “rakia” all night
Welcome back my old wound
You thug of those songs of mine

And from my pockets I emptied all my problems
Tell me how is Dardania doing
One after one lit the cigarettes
This deer of the songs of mine

The mountain of Dajti sent the news
In the field of Kosovo and Myzeqea
The map of the fatherland is being sewed
From this deer of Dumrea

Albania wants to speak
For a thug with a lot of songs and problems
Tomorrow evening in the middle of Tirana
I shall shout: “I am Europe”

(Repeats once more)