Count Child, for love
He is a child and the sea has passed;
He is going to give water to his horse
The morning of San Juan.
While the horse drinks,
He sings sweet to sing;
All the birds of the sky
They stopped to listen.
Walking walker
Forget his walk
Navigator,
The ship returns there.
The queen was working,
The sleeping daughter is:
"Get up, Albania,
Of your sweet delight,
You will feel beautiful singing
The little mermaid of the sea.
"She's not the little mermaid,
The one of so beautiful to sing,
But it is the Count Child,
Which for me wants to end.
Who could be worth it
It is your sad sorrow!
-If for your loves sorry,
Oh, malhaya his singing!
And because I never enjoy them,
I will send him to kill.
"If he sends you to kill mother,
Together we are to be buried!
He died at midnight,
She to the roosters to sing;
To her as the daughter of kings,
They bury it on the altar;
To him, like son of counts,
A few steps back.
From it was born a white rose,
A hawthorn hawthorn was born from it;
Grow one, grow the other,
The two are going to join;
The twigs that are reached,
Strong hugs are given,
And those that were not reached,
They do not stop sighing.
The queen full of envy,
Both he commanded to cut;
The gallant who cut them
She did not stop crying.
From her was born a heron,
From a strong hawk;
Together they fly through the sky.
Together they fly together.
