This White Drin,that Black Drin,are two good brothers,in beautiful Albania.
The White Drin one night,had a terrible dream,that he had changed his color,in those thousands and thousands of bends.
In a deep sleep one day,the black one had faded away,but the very same name,had somehow remained.
They do not fight over colors,not even when muddied by rain,but they often feel bad,about who remained the youngest.
With waves and swells through the fields,the crags and valleys of the homeland,they bind the lands of the eagles,with the legacy of Skanderbeg.
