Over the fields of Galicia1 an evil wind is blowing
What little we had the flood took away
Like the birds of passage, like two swifts
We fly above the ground- two blue letters
Still the fire is burning and the wood crackles
But it is time to go sleep
Beyond that hill lies Sarajevo
Where we shall be married tomorrow
The priest in church will bind us forever
Wreath of tamarisk thrown into a river
The water will flow back to the sea
The two of us here bellow and the sky up high
Still the fire is burning and the wood crackles
But it is time to go sleep
Beyond that hill lies Sarajevo
Where we shall be married tomorrow
I'll build you a house made of white rocks
Timbered with oaken planks
So that everyone will know that I loved you
I will build it strong, it will remain forever
Still the fire is burning and the wood crackles
But it is time to go sleep
Beyond that hill lies Sarajevo
Where we shall be married tomorrow
1. Galicia- region in Eastern Europe, not Spain