From my weary sorrows
Nowhere do I find peace,
But in bitter turmoil
Spend the rest of my days.

As the Etna spews quick flames
Down her burning slope,
So issue the sighs of love
From my breast’s left side.

As snows atop a mount
Molten by the sun’s rays
Down vales flow to the sea
Into streams turned,

So from the sun ever aglow
That shall never stop
Down my face in two streams

Flows my molten heart.

This poem is from Stara bokeljska književnost [Old Literature of the Gulf of Kotor], ed. Slobodan Prosperov Novak (Zagreb: Matica hrvatska, 1996), 176.

U umorne muke moje
Nepoznati Dobroćanin

U umorne muke moje
Nigda mira ne nahodim
Već u gorke nepokoje
Moje danke ja prohodim.

Kako Etna ognje žive
S gorućega skuta izmeće,
Tač uzdahe ljubežljive
Lijeva od prsi strana meće.

Kako snijezi na vrh gore
Sunca zrakom rastopljeni
Niz doline teku u more,
U rijeke obraćeni,

Tako od sunca koje u vijeke,
Gorući me, pristat neće
Niz moj obraz u dvije rijeke
Rastopljeno srce teče.