Long before 

we fought over

the land title, 

there in Vrutok 

melting snow 

from Shar

was comming off quickly  

from the mountain.

The water brought

and also took away

with it

a small pebble

with a trust

inscribed on it.

It should have been

brought to the  middle sea

and to be build into 

the lighthouse of the civilizations.

All known and unknown

from the times of Alexander up to the present

And the water fullfiled her duty proudly

somewhere strong and lush

somewhere cool and luxerious

yet everywhere with the same dignity.

It flowed day and night 

Through the chains of cities.

Cities that were strung together 

Like rings on bridal hands

All dyed with henna.

It flowed from the spring

 all the way to 

the estuary in the White Tower

through narrow riverbeds

natural and human obstacles.

It flowed with the same persistance 

all along every day and night.

Peak seasons were passing by

years

centuries and eras.

Each new generation 

would inscribe on the 

pebbles od Vardar

new notes

yet known to us.

Each new generation 

would continue 

this handover

all until the snow snows 

on the mountains of Polog.