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"O my brother, Leka Kapetan!
Seest thou not how I perish miserably
At the hands of mighty Kraljević Marko!"
In the slender čardak Leka hears her,
But he is silent as were he a cold stone,
Nor durst he speak a word,
Lest he too should perish.
Marko lift up his voice, for he would not enter again into the čardak.
He called to his two pobratims:
"Come, brothers, come down from the čardak! 560
Bring my sabre in your hands,
The time is come for us to depart."
The pobratims hearkened unto Marko,
They came down to the pavement,
Marko girded on his sword below the čardak,
They mounted their good steeds,
And went forth over the wide plain.
Leka stayed like a cold stone,
And Rosa, mutilated, kept wailing.
