It's money that marries off a homely girl.
I am poor, and my beauty will marry me off.
Some think that since I am poor
I shall never in my life get married,
but my mother advised me:
"See to it that you don't give yourself into anyone's arms."
The sun warms me from Rogatica.
Let it! I don't care.
Were it to warm me from Focha,
I should like it very much.
Dear God, you are not just to all.
By Allah, I have winking eyes!
When I wink, I make seven rise.
The young and the old fellows are coming.
I love the older, but I talk with the younger.
"My reaper, can your scythe cut?"
"The scythe can cut when the grass is dewy."
"O reaper, the sun will dry the dew."

Translated by Albert B. Lord, in Bela Bartok and Albert B. Lord, Serbo-Croatian Folk Songs (New York: Columbia University Press, 1951), 369.