I can hear some sweet sounds
At this holy instant in the night.
Lo! Now all my soul resounds
With a swarm of dreams alight.

Woefully, the strings of the heart
Quiver, letting out a cry of pain;
Muted, yet vivid memories start
To become so alive again.

O, you precious sounds, be silent!
I find no more peace, how odd!
Gullies and hillocks lie dormant,
And I am weeping, oh, God!
 

Plovdiv, 1881