|Ku ka kane Aga Hasan aga. Poj con vjetat kah potur mahalla
Eshte zatek ne ciken potureshe, ja ka nis o me lue e me kesh
te dy bashk o e kane lidh nje bese, kur ti bojna ka 15 vjete
te dy bashk o me hi ne xhervdete
|There was once a land-owner called Hasan Aga , Who was passing his days running with the crowd .
He meets a girl wearing “poture” (Albanian traditional pants), and starts playing with her.
They promise each other “We are getting married as soon as we are both 15”.
|Ni shtrig plake oj i paske ngue, nanes ages shkoj e i ka kallxue
|An old witch hears them and tells Aga’s mother about this.
|Nane ages ather cka po bane, ne begler nusen ja ka zane
ka ardh dita darsmen e kane boee, me tupana e me kengatare
me shyret nusen ja kane prue, hasan aga dhander sdon me shkue
daje e miqe me zore e ka çue, pse nuk flet age, nusja iu drejtue
a spo te dokem, apo çejz ste kame prue
|Aga’s mother finds a wealthy girl for her son, the wedding day dawns.
They are celebrating with drums and singers.
The bride approaches happily, but Hasan Aga doesn’t want to be her husband.
His uncles and friends hardly manage to get him to the ceremony.
“Why aren’t you saying a word?” – asks his wife-to-be. “Am I not graceful enough or is it my dowry?”
|Boll e mir o paske qellue, mej cike tjeter une jame besatue
Hasan age besen ki me majte, rogtareshe e jotja kame me u bae
me zi aga nleter e ka shkrue, sabah nanes nusen me ja cue
se per bese une jete ka me ndru, se kto krushi, xhemate me u marue
me tupanaa te vorret me mcue uuueee
| “You are very nice, but I’ve already given my word to another girl. “
“Hasan Aga, keep your word, but I will be your slave.”
Angry Aga writes a letter to his mother, and asks his wife to deliver it to her the next morning,
“By jove, I am going to die! But people, remember.
Take me to the cemetery with drums banging!
|Cika poturesh ne kame a cue, kto xhemat oj nan a jane tranue
me tupana xhenazen tuj cue, hasan aga oj bi jete paska ndrue
ather cika para u paska dale, ta shoh agen per mu jete ka dhane
nuk du agen nvorr vetem me lane, perskaj varet ia paskan marue
per mij vare lule kane lulzuuuuee
|Aga’s first girl stands up. “Have these people gone crazy?” she asks her mother.
“Why are they carrying a coffin with the drum sounding?” “Hasan Aga is dead,” was the reply.
Then the girl went to the front of the crowd to see Aga, who had given his life for her.
“I don’t want Aga to be buried alone, I want to be with him,” she said.
Over their grave, flowers have bloomed.