I tried to translate this poem adequately, capturing the nuance and beauty expressed in Banga’s Romani language. In the end, I decided not to post the translation. I feel it presumptuous and lacking in equal measure. I post a couple of lines from the first stanza, simply to give some context~

“Comes the white early morning
in front of our small house…”

SlovakkAlja o parno ratjaha
anglal amaro kheroro
hangozinel e čarori
sar tikno bašnoro.

Mro dadoro phirlahi
ande maša
Vašo buka maroro
avričhivkerlahi o trast
the o pharipen

Rati, kana pale avlahi
o dromoro angle leste
pe hamisarlahi.

Mri dajori
sako rati molinahi
De buka khamoro mre čhavorenge,
mro gulo Deloro
Pedero kheroro andre agačiskero jiloro
hi o čoripen andrekošto.

O gav pe garudja
tele bariakere dunhi,
no me dikhljom
sar o kalo čiriklo
salindja katharo nebo te roven
anglalo kheroro.

Mri dajoro ži ratjaha
marlahi
phare duge dorikora,
pašal late o ududaro
bešlahi.

Anglo ratjaha sovlahi
sar luludji pro jivaro.

Jekh sunoro
džalahi,hoj o svito kerdilja pe
pi bari petja
mri dajori andral kedkerlahi
somnakuno maroro.

alja o ratjaha,
o bašnoro pedoro kheroro
o čoripen
uštjardja.

 

By Dezider Banga in “Lyrika”

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