We have set off into exile,
May the Lord on us have mercy,
And protect us on our journey,
Farewell to Berat of roses!

Istanbul, accept our greetings,
Can you find a space here for us?
Just enough and not too little,
For myself and these fine fellows.

Of our old friends we've one favour,
That they on our souls take pity,
Now and then they say a prayer,
May it be a blessing to them.

Friends of old, do not forget us,
For we're off to foreign countries,
Send salute and greetings to us
Every three, four months, we beg you.

May your wishes be accomplished
By the Lord in his compassion,
And, Nezim, oh wretched fellow,
May He also hear you praying.

I've one favour now to ask you,
Hail for me those fields and mountains,
To them convey my best wishes,
Greetings from me in my sorrow.

Tell them that Nezim is weeping,
With an open heart he begs you,
Set aside a venue for him,
Or he'll languish in perdition.