O THOU lovely maiden!
Lo! thy praise has mounted
To the monarch’s city!
Maiden! thou hast planted
The six-branch’d _kaloper_ {190a}
And bosilka {190b} early.
But the youths unmarried
Long have been in waiting
To tear up thy balsam—
Thy bosilka pillage.
Know’st thou not they linger
Just to steal thy kisses?
Maiden! maiden! never
Let those youths betray thee!