With grinding teeth hastes to its
comrade’s side,
Byzantium roars and rages,
With hands to the shore it reaches,
From waters gasping strives to rise,
And then with sword in heart it dies.
With fires of hell Skutari’s burning,
Bazaars with streams of blood are churning [[27]]
Broad Bosphorus pours in its waves.
Like blackbirds in a bush