Gusta mi magla padnala-Bekhit Fahim

Dense fog has fallen down Over this plane Kosovo! Nothing could be seen Except for a tall tree. Under it a tailor is seating. He is sewing a sleeveless jacket. As much stars there are in the sky As many colors there are on the jacket. Gusta mi magla padnala, more, na toj mi ravno Kosovo. Ništa se živo ne vidi, more, do jedno drvo visoko. Pod njeg’ mi sediv terzije, more, ono mi šijev jeleče. Kolko su zvezde na nebo, more, tolko su šarke na njega.