From the Turkish Gate? does the wind rise*
Does he frown? the sky over the other, gilded in the sun,
The evil will is seen in the eyes,
When does it straighten up? quickly to His Majesty.
Enter? cheeky and without advance, until? in the grave,
I don't leave the turban in front of me from Romanian,
We are the masters, he is the one!
Courage itself? it stays in their throat,
You suddenly see? messengers, as in a bad dream,
Vod? how do they frown? like all the boyars
Why don't I know how to keep quiet? do you want to scare them?
Enter Andrei C?pitan
S? do i bring nails, death and hammer,
And the proud turban, unforgivable,
He is caught forever with nails in his head!
S? learn but? those who did not know,
C? Romanians wrong? They also have Vod.
S? do the Turks learn to be decent?:
Across the Vod? ?epe?? Isn't it a little??!

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