Macedonia is a country located in the central Balkan peninsula in Southeastern Europe. It is one of the successor states of the former Yugoslavia, from which it declared independence in 1991. It became a member of the United Nations in 1993 but, as a result of a dispute with Greece over its name, it was admitted under the provisional reference of the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, sometimes abbreviated as FYROM. A landlocked country, the Republic of Macedonia is bordered by Kosovo to the northwest, Serbia to the north, Bulgaria to the east, Greece to the south and Albania to the west. The country's capital is Skopje, with 506,926 inhabitants according to a 2002 census. Other cities include Bitola, Kumanovo, Prilep, Tetovo, Ohrid, Veles, Štip, Kočani, Gostivar and Strumica. It has more than 50 lakes and sixteen mountains higher than 2,000 m (6,562 ft).
The Republic of Macedonia has an exceptionally rich musical heritage.Folk music is one of the most cherished areas of Macedonian culture, and several folk festivals take place each year. The oldest is Folkfest, held in Valandovo, and most festivals have greater turnouts among Macedonian expatriates in Australia and Canada. The Festival of Old Town Songs in Ohrid and the Ilinden Days of Folk Song in Bitola are events that celebrate traditional Macedonian songs. Mak-Fest in Stip and the Skopje Festival are the two best-known festivals of popular music in the Republic of Macedonia.
ARAP (also Serbia)
Storil nijet zajko, jajko kokorajko,
zajko da se zeni, zajko serberlija. Si
natresol gaki, upreil mustaki
nagrnal dzamadan, kapa fiskunja. More,
Mi posvrail zajko lina udovica,
kitka nakitena, maza razmazena,
poznata dzimrjka, svetaka isposlica, More,
Mi polonil zajko kiteni svatovi,
mecka mesarija, vucica kumica, zaba
zurkdzijka, ezo tupandzija,
oven esapcja, murdzo aberdzija. Zajka
kokorajko si natresol gaki, upreil mustali,
nagrnal dzamadan, kapa fiskuija, more,
Pa mi trgnal zajko niz Solunaka polo
da si vidi zajko mesto lindralija,
kvacka so pilinja, teska meravdzika, lici za
Koga vide zajko tos cudno cudo,
pa mi letna zajko nazad na tragovi.
Tam si sratna zajko do dva-tri lavdzii,
em oni si nosat puski sacmalii, more, ërti
Pa mi presnal zajko, zajko da mi bega, si
iskinal galo, razmrsil mustaki,
iskinal dzamadan, vikna se provkna: More
Rabbit made a plan, popeyed Rabbit,
that he would get married, hot-shot Rabbit. He pulled on his trousers, twirled his moustache, cut into his jacket and his fez. Hey, just like a bridegroom!
Rabbit got engaged to Widow Fox,
a flowery bouquet, a spoiled pet, a well-known fussy eater, an avoider of work, the village fussbudget!
Rabbit invited his wedding party:
a she-bear butcher, a she-wolf godmother, a frog to play zurla, a hedgehog for drummer a ram for bookkeeper, a watchdog wedding-crier. Popeyed Rabbit pulled on his trousers, twirled his
moustache, got into his jacket and his fez. Hey, just like a bridegroom!
Then Rabbit set off through the region of
Salonika to see Widow Fox. There Rabbit found, instead of a sleek fox, a hen with chicks, a heavy dowry, it looks like the bride!
When Rabbit saw this wondrous wonder, Rabbit flew back on his tracks.
Then Rabbit met with two or three hunters, and they had guns, and hunting dogs!
Rabbit shot off running, lost his trousers, messed up his moustache, threw off his jacket, cried out, Hey, I’m not a bridegroom!
ČERKESKO HORO (also Bulgaria)
ČOČEK (CELO SKOPJE)
DA MI DOJDES
Kraj Vardarot sedis mori
Belo platno belis
Belo platno belis duso
Se na gore gledas
Tvojata majka mori
Tebe ne te pusta
So mene da dojdes duso
Srce moje Jovano
Jas te tebe cekam mori
Doma da mi dojdes,
A ti ne dodg’as duso
Srce moje Jovano
Jovana, you sit by the Vardar
Bleaching your white linens
And looking up at the hills.
Jovana, your mother doesn’t let you
come to me, my sweetheart.
Jovana, I wait for you to come to me,
but you don’t come, my dear.
Dodek je moma pri majka,
do tu je bela i crvena.
Do tu je odila setala,
mominski pesni pejala.
Mominski pesni pejala,
mominski ora igrala.
Godi se, zacrnela se,
ozeni se, zakopa se.
A sto se svekor, svekrva?
Tova je crno crnilo.
A sto se dever i zolva?
Tova je zolto zoltilo.
A sto se malkite deca?
Tova se sitni sind ziri.
A sto je kitka sarena?
Tova je prvoto libe.
While a girl lives with her mother,
she is fair and rosy.
She goes walking,
she sings girls' songs.
She sings girls' songs,
dances girls' dances.
She gets engaged, turns black (unhappy),
gets married, is buried.
And what are father-in-law, mother-in-law?
They are black ink (unhappiness).
And what are brother-in-law and sister-in-law?
They are yellow dye (sickness).
And what are the little children?
They are little chains.
And what is the many-colored bouquet?
It is her true love (husband).
Sto mi omilelo, male
Sto mi omilelo
Ej, sto mi omilelo (2x)
Kumanovske, pole, male
Ej, Kumanovsko pole (2x)
Krke gi poglednu, male
Krke gi poglednu,
Ej, Krke gi poglednu (2x)
Kumanovske mome, male
Ej, belo promenete (2x)
Sto ubavo nosi, male
Sto ubavo nosi,
Ej, sto ubavo nosi (2x)
Saje izlezene, male
Ej, kitke za kitene (2x)
Legnala Dana zaspala, lele Boze,
vo edna mala gradina
vo edna mala gradina, lele Boze,
pod edno drvo maslinka.
Poduvna veter od more, lele Boze,
otkrsi granka maslinka
otkrsi granka maslinka, lele Boze,
udri mi Dana po lice.
Vikna mi Dana zaplace, lele Boze,
"Of lele le le do boga
sto bev si slatko, zaspala, lele Boze,
i sladok son si sonuvava.
Na son dojdoja tri ludi, lele Boze,
Tri ludi, tri adzamii.
Prvi mi dade zlat prsten, lele Boze,
drugi mi dade jabolko.
Drugi mi dade jabolko, lele Boze,
treki me mene celuna.
Toj sto mi dade zlat prsten, lele Boze,
niz nego da se provira.
Toj sto mi dade jabolko, lele Boze,
zelen da bide do groba.
Toj sto me mene celuna, lele Boze,
So nego da se vekuvam.
Dana lay down, fell asleep, O God,
in a little garden,
in a little garden, O God,
under an olive tree.
The wind blew from the sea, O God,
and broke off an olive branch,
and broke off an olive branch, O God,
it hit Dana on the face.
Dana cried out and began to weep, O God,
"Oh dear me, O my God,
I had just fallen asleep, O God
and was dreaming a sweet dream.
In the dream three wild youths came, O God,
Three wild youths, three untried youths;
the first gave me a gold ring, O God,
the second gave me an apple;
the second gave me an apple, O God,
the third kissed me.
The one who gave me a gold ring, O God,
may he crawl through it.
The one who gave me an apple,
may he remain green till the grave.
The one who kissed me,
may I spend my life with him.
MAKEDONSKO BAVNO ORO
vo gradina nabrana,
Dali ima na ovoj beli svet
poubavo devojcce od
Nema, nema nek'e se rodi
poubavo devojce od makedonce!
Nema dzvezdi policni
od tvoj'te oci,
da se nok'e na nebo
den k'e razdeni.
Koga kosi raspletis
licna si i policna
Koga pesna zapee, slavej
koga ora zaigra srce razigra.
a many-colored bouquet,
gathered in a garden,
given as a gift.
Is there in this wide world,
a more beautiful girl
than a Macedonian?
There isn't, there isn't,
there won't be born.
a more beautiful girl
than a Macedonian!
There are no stars more beautiful,
than your eyes.
They light up the night sky,
as though it were dawn.
When you undo your hair, like silk,
you are lovely, lovelier than a fairy.
When you sing a song,
you out-sing the nightingale.
When you start to dance, your heart dances.
SA (from Bujanovac)
TI SI BILJANO NAJUBAVA
TOPANSKO ORO (CIGA'S)
VRNI SE VRNI
Žalna majka, v’sebe plače,
Vnucite gi teši.
Bol vo gradi lut ja vije,
A nif im se smeši.
“Ah spijte, vnuci moj,
Pak, pak ḱe dojde toj.
Ḱe vi pee za Bitola,
Za naš roden kraj.”
Spiat vnuci, majka plače,
Oči solzi leat.
“Kaj si, sinko, da gi vidiš,
Tvojíte mili deca?”
“Ah, spiat deca tvoj’,
V’son go slušat tvojot poj.
Stani, sinko, da gi vidiš,
Stani, sine moj.”
Majka plače, solzi tečat,
Sinot svoj go žali,
Blagoj Petrov Karaģule,
Vo misli go gali.
“Of, edinec moj ti,
V’grad bolka toi ni svi
Stani, čedo, pej ni pesma,
Stani, ne mi spi.”
The grieving mother weeps silently
and her grandchildren console her.
The aching in her heart is unbearable,
but she smiles at them.
“Ah, sleep my grandchildren,
he will come back again.
He will sing to you of Bitola,
of the place of our birth.”
The grandchildren sleep, the mother weeps,
tears pour from her eyes.
“Why are you not here, to see them,
your dear children?”
Oh, your children are sleeping,
and in their dreams they hear your singing.
Arise, my son, and see them,
arise, my son.
The mother sobs, her tears stream down,
she mourns her son,
Dlagoj Petrov Karaģule.
In her thoughts she caresses him.
“Oh, you are my only son;
our hearts ache for you.
Arise my son, sing us a song,
arise, do not sleep.”
ŽENSKO ZA RAKA