When outlaw, Deljo, rebel to the Turks,
The man who fought them, had to leave his village,
That chief of Karadjovi and Dumbovi,
He, Deljo, sent the message I will sing,
A warning to the chiefs of Zlatograd,
To those dark men who occupied that town.
‘There are two aunts of mine in my village.
Don’t try to force them to become muslims,
Don’t put black clothes on them. When I come back
And find out what you’ve done, mothers will weep
The women married to you will be widows
Your children not yet born will have no fathers.’
But Deljo’s lover, Gyulsume, said to him:
‘Take care, my Deljo, take care of yourself,
The foreign chiefs of Zlatograd, dark men,
They’ve forged a silver bullet for you, Deljo.’
‘Gyulsume, my love, Gyulsume,’ he said to her,
‘That man who could kill me has not been born.’
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