From what meadow were you born and raised,From what orbit, or from the moon did you descend?..
On what cobblestones did your soles tread,On the flowers and leaves was your fragrance shed?...
Where did you find those colors, and where did you find those wings,That you fly like a seagull over the seas?Your shirt like a wave, and your step like music,Did God bestow this beauty on you as a dowry?
Who planted you, I wonder, out in the sparse field,And made you a Cinderella, a fairytale revealed?
Both the flowers and the trees turn their heads to look,But what they are seeing, they cannot confess...
You walk away and sway your arms along the low walls,As if you poured Vivaldi himself over your shoulders.
A fragile stem and eyes like two petals,Forgive me, my Lord, for my mind is unsettled!...
She looks like no migrating bird, nor like a swallow,Her hair is like gold and combed differently...
Wings like a seagull, a body like a siren,Inside her veins, a thousand dreams are sleeping...
I never understood, does she go or come from the sea,Is she a fairy, or a poet's reverie...
Wherever I turn my eyes, she appears before me again,Here a white wave, there fields full of flowers...
Oh, speak to me please, speak to me for I am bursting,Like a little bird trapped beneath a stone slab...
And the light of my eyes, and my voice you took completely,O dripping dew, on the streets and in the yards...
Who painted you, your eyes, your stature and your brow,To make me suffer, to leave me thirsty?
It seems she doesn't walk the street, it seems she flies,You, the bird of my thoughts, when the dawn begins to rise...
O colorful butterfly, what beauty your stature has,My bewildered eye, only it can measure it...
It seems as if a beautiful star fell from the sky,Only it resembles you, has your beauty...
Tell me where you are from, for I am bursting, poor me,She turns her head and says, I am from Filat!
She says I am from Filat, and she says from Parga,And sways at the waist, like a boat on the seas...
Speak, oh blessed one, speak, oh fairy,Only Çamëria could give birth to one like you...
Pure in soul, dreamy in beauty...
