Asim Bajramović
A little house stood at the edge of town,
small and humble, yet like a dream,
in the courtyard an old pear tree bowed,
they called it Omer’s house, serene.
Omer was the youngest child,
father, mother, four brothers strong,
they owned a little fertile land,
an old well stood the yard along.
To survive they labored hard,
to chase away hunger and pain,
but Omer carried dreams inside,
he longed for much, much more to gain.
Omer dreamed of wealth untold,
and a golden watch upon his chest,
a slender tower painted bright,
a noble robe in sultan's dress.
He wished for four black horses proud,
and a carriage fit for a sultan’s way,
and one more wish he kept concealed,
he loved poor Zeyna every day.
Zeyna was beautiful but poor,
she owned no treasure but her grace,
and because of that Omer left,
though heartbreak could be seen upon his face.
People whispered he had married,
and received a dowry rich with gold,
he got the watch upon his chest,
but his soul grew empty, dark, and cold.
In vain the tower painted bright,
in vain the watch he tried to hide,
the noble robe of wealthy men,
when Zeyna was not by his side.
He drank away his grief for Zeyna,
greeting dawn inside the tavern’s haze,
he gave his weary soul to darkness,
and so passed all his lonely days.
They still repeat his final words,
for fate remains unknown to man,
in vain the dowry, wealth, and gold,
my Zeyna, golden apple of my heart.
A little house stood at the edge of town, small and humble, yet like a dream, in the courtyard an old pear tree bowed, they called it Omer’s house, serene. Omer was the youngest child, father, mother, four brothers strong, they owned a little fertile land, an old well stood the yard along. To survive they labored hard, to chase away hunger and pain, but Omer carried dreams inside, he longed for much, much more to gain. Omer dreamed of wealth untold, and a golden watch upon his chest, a slender tower painted bright, a noble robe in sultan's dress. He wished for four black horses proud, and a carriage fit for a sultan’s way, and one more wish he kept concealed, he loved poor Zeyna every day. Zeyna was beautiful but poor, she owned no treasure but her grace, and because of that Omer left, though heartbreak could be seen upon his face. People whispered he had married, and received a dowry rich with gold, he got the watch upon his chest, but his soul grew empty, dark, and cold. In vain the tower painted bright, in vain the watch he tried to hide, the noble robe of wealthy men, when Zeyna was not by his side. He drank away his grief for Zeyna, greeting dawn inside the tavern’s haze, he gave his weary soul to darkness, and so passed all his lonely days. They still repeat his final words, for fate remains unknown to man, in vain the dowry, wealth, and gold, my Zeyna, golden apple of my heart.