Tell me, white cloud*,
Where do you come from?
Where did you fly?
Did you not see my father’s house?
Did you not hear my mother speak?
How is my dear child doing,
Sharing foreign bread with foreigners?
Tell them, white cloud, that you saw me here,
And that I’m fine.
And bring them greetings from me.
The biggest part is over,
Only a little remains.
The day is coming when I’ll be back home,
And I’ll embrace my mother.
(*Note: in Bulgarian we have diminutive forms of nouns, and the form of ‘cloud’ (oblache, облаче) in the original Bulgarian is the diminutive.)
You are free to use my translation under the condition that you mention that you took it from my blog.