Кочани, Кочани, роден крај,
убав си ми, убав си, како рај.
Кочани, Кочани, гратче мило,
не си тажно како што било.
Нема више воденички песни,
нит' калдрма, нит' сокаци тесни,
нема више кал до колена,
нема више самар на рамена.
Кочани, Кочани, роден крај,
убав си ми, убав си, како рај.
Кочани, Кочани, гратче мило,
не си тажно како што било.
Фабриките високи, модерни,
улиците долги, ем големи,
парковите широки, зелени,
ѓул трендафил куќички шарени.
Кочанското поле вода пие,
езерото Гратче што му лие.
Кочани, Кочани, роден крај,
убав си ми, убав си, како рај.
Кочани, Кочани, гратче мило,
не си тажно како што било.
Спомен домот што на врвот стои,
изграден од борците херои,
горда биди наша мајко мила,
синовите што си ги родила.
Љупчо Сантов, Раде Кратовчето,
животот го даде за знамето.
Кочани, Кочани, роден крај,
убав си ми, убав си, како рај.
Кочани, Кочани, гратче мило,
не си тажно како што било.
Кочани, мој роден крај
Забелешка: Љупчо Сантов и Раде Кратовче биле партизани кои при вооружена престрелка се убиени од фашистичката бугарска полиција во селото Главовица, на 23 март 1944 година.
Kochani, moj roden kraj
Kochani, Kochani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kochani, Kochani, gratche milo,
ne si tazhno kako shto bilo.
Nema vishe vodenichki pesni,
nit' kaldrma, nit' sokaci tesni,
nema vishe kal do kolena,
nema vishe samar na ramena.
Kochani, Kochani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kochani, Kochani, gratche milo,
ne si tazhno kako shto bilo.
Fabrikite visoki, moderni,
ulicite dolgi, em golemi,
parkovite shiroki, zeleni,
gjul trendafil kukjichki shareni.
Kochanskoto pole voda pie,
ezeroto Gratche shto mu lie.
Kochani, Kochani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kochani, Kochani, gratche milo,
ne si tazhno kako shto bilo.
Spomen domot shto na vrvot stoi,
izgraden od borcite heroi,
gorda bidi nasha majko mila,
sinovite shto si gi rodila.
Ljupcho Santov, Rade Kratovcheto,
zhivotot go dade za znameto.
Kochani, Kochani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kochani, Kochani, gratche milo,
ne si tazhno kako shto bilo.
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kochani, Kochani, gratche milo,
ne si tazhno kako shto bilo.
Nema vishe vodenichki pesni,
nit' kaldrma, nit' sokaci tesni,
nema vishe kal do kolena,
nema vishe samar na ramena.
Kochani, Kochani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kochani, Kochani, gratche milo,
ne si tazhno kako shto bilo.
Fabrikite visoki, moderni,
ulicite dolgi, em golemi,
parkovite shiroki, zeleni,
gjul trendafil kukjichki shareni.
Kochanskoto pole voda pie,
ezeroto Gratche shto mu lie.
Kochani, Kochani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kochani, Kochani, gratche milo,
ne si tazhno kako shto bilo.
Spomen domot shto na vrvot stoi,
izgraden od borcite heroi,
gorda bidi nasha majko mila,
sinovite shto si gi rodila.
Ljupcho Santov, Rade Kratovcheto,
zhivotot go dade za znameto.
Kochani, Kochani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kochani, Kochani, gratche milo,
ne si tazhno kako shto bilo.
Zabeleshka: Ljupcho Santov i Rade Kratovche bile partizani koi pri vooruzhena prestrelka se ubieni od fashistichkata bugarska policija vo seloto Glavovica, na 23 mart 1944 godina.
Kocani, moj roden kraj tekst
Kocani, Kocani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kocani, Kocani, gratce milo,
ne si tazno kako sto bilo.
Nema vise vodenicki pesni,
nit' kaldrma, nit' sokaci tesni,
nema vise kal do kolena,
nema vise samar na ramena.
Kocani, Kocani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kocani, Kocani, gratce milo,
ne si tazno kako sto bilo.
Fabrikite visoki, moderni,
ulicite dolgi, em golemi,
parkovite siroki, zeleni,
gul trendafil kukicki sareni.
Kocanskoto pole voda pie,
ezeroto Gratce sto mu lie.
Kocani, Kocani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kocani, Kocani, gratce milo,
ne si tazno kako sto bilo.
Spomen domot sto na vrvot stoi,
izgraden od borcite heroi,
gorda bidi nasa majko mila,
sinovite sto si gi rodila.
Lupco Santov, Rade Kratovceto,
zivotot go dade za znameto.
Kocani, Kocani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kocani, Kocani, gratce milo,
ne si tazno kako sto bilo.
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kocani, Kocani, gratce milo,
ne si tazno kako sto bilo.
Nema vise vodenicki pesni,
nit' kaldrma, nit' sokaci tesni,
nema vise kal do kolena,
nema vise samar na ramena.
Kocani, Kocani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kocani, Kocani, gratce milo,
ne si tazno kako sto bilo.
Fabrikite visoki, moderni,
ulicite dolgi, em golemi,
parkovite siroki, zeleni,
gul trendafil kukicki sareni.
Kocanskoto pole voda pie,
ezeroto Gratce sto mu lie.
Kocani, Kocani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kocani, Kocani, gratce milo,
ne si tazno kako sto bilo.
Spomen domot sto na vrvot stoi,
izgraden od borcite heroi,
gorda bidi nasa majko mila,
sinovite sto si gi rodila.
Lupco Santov, Rade Kratovceto,
zivotot go dade za znameto.
Kocani, Kocani, roden kraj,
ubav si mi, ubav si, kako raj.
Kocani, Kocani, gratce milo,
ne si tazno kako sto bilo.
Zabeleska: Lupco Santov i Rade Kratovce bile partizani koi pri vooruzena prestrelka se ubieni od fasistickata bugarska policija vo seloto Glavovica, na 23 mart 1944 godina.
Kochani, my place of birth
Kochani, Kochani, my place of birth,
you are pretty to me, you are pretty, like paradise.
Kochani, Kochani, dear little town,
you are not sad as you once were.
No more songs near the watermills,
no more cobblestones, no more narrow alleys,
no more knee-deep mud,
no more saddle on the shoulder.
Kochani, Kochani, my place of birth,
you are pretty to me, you are pretty, like paradise.
Kochani, Kochani, dear little town,
you are not sad as you once were.
Tall, modern factories,
long, wide streets,
large green parks,
colorful houses with rose gardens.
The valley drinks the water
pouring from the Lake Gratche.
Kochani, Kochani, my place of birth,
you are pretty to me, you are pretty, like paradise.
Kochani, Kochani, dear little town,
you are not sad as you once were.
The memorial house stands at the top,
built by the fighter heroes,
be proud our dear mother
of the sons you gave birth to.
Ljupcho Santov, Rade Kratovche
gave their lives for the flag.
Kochani, Kochani, my place of birth,
you are pretty to me, you are pretty, like paradise.
Kochani, Kochani, dear little town,
you are not sad as you once were.
Note: Ljupcho Santov and Rade Kratovche were partisans that were killed in armed shooting by the fascist Bulgarian police in the village of Glavovica, on 23 of March, 1944.
you are pretty to me, you are pretty, like paradise.
Kochani, Kochani, dear little town,
you are not sad as you once were.
No more songs near the watermills,
no more cobblestones, no more narrow alleys,
no more knee-deep mud,
no more saddle on the shoulder.
Kochani, Kochani, my place of birth,
you are pretty to me, you are pretty, like paradise.
Kochani, Kochani, dear little town,
you are not sad as you once were.
Tall, modern factories,
long, wide streets,
large green parks,
colorful houses with rose gardens.
The valley drinks the water
pouring from the Lake Gratche.
Kochani, Kochani, my place of birth,
you are pretty to me, you are pretty, like paradise.
Kochani, Kochani, dear little town,
you are not sad as you once were.
The memorial house stands at the top,
built by the fighter heroes,
be proud our dear mother
of the sons you gave birth to.
Ljupcho Santov, Rade Kratovche
gave their lives for the flag.
Kochani, Kochani, my place of birth,
you are pretty to me, you are pretty, like paradise.
Kochani, Kochani, dear little town,
you are not sad as you once were.
Note: Ljupcho Santov and Rade Kratovche were partisans that were killed in armed shooting by the fascist Bulgarian police in the village of Glavovica, on 23 of March, 1944.
Kochani, meine Heimat
Kochani, Kochani, meine Heimat,
du bist mir so schön wie das Paradies.
Kochani, Kochani, geliebtes Städtchen,
du bist nicht mehr so traurig, wie Du einmal warst.
Keine Gesänge mehr an den Wassermühlen,
kein Kopfsteinpflaster, keine engen Gassen,
kein Knietiefer Schlamm,
und kein Sattel mehr auf der Schulter.
Kochani, Kochani, meine Heimat,
du bist mir so schön wie das Paradies.
Kochani, Kochani, geliebtes Städtchen,
du bist nicht mehr so traurig, wie Du einmal warst.
Große, moderne Fabriken,
lange, breite Straßen,
weite grüne Parkanlagen,
bunte Häuser mit Rosengärten.
Das Feld von Kochani trinkt das Wasser,
das der Gratche-See ihm spendet.
Kochani, Kochani, meine Heimat,
du bist mir so schön wie das Paradies.
Kochani, Kochani, geliebtes Städtchen,
du bist nicht mehr so traurig, wie Du einmal warst.
Oben steht das Gedenkhaus,
gebaut von den kämpferischen Helden.
Stolz ist unsere liebe Mutter,
dass sie solche Söhne geboren hat.
Ljupcho Santov, Rade Kratovcheto,
gaben ihr Leben für die Fahne.
Kochani, Kochani, meine Heimat,
du bist mir so schön wie das Paradies.
Kochani, Kochani, geliebtes Städtchen,
du bist nicht mehr so traurig, wie Du einmal warst.
Bemerkung: Ljupcho Santov und Rade Kratovche waren Partisanen, die getötet wurden bei einem Feuergefecht mit der faschistischen bulgarischen Polizei im Dorf Glavovica, am 23 März 1944.
du bist mir so schön wie das Paradies.
Kochani, Kochani, geliebtes Städtchen,
du bist nicht mehr so traurig, wie Du einmal warst.
Keine Gesänge mehr an den Wassermühlen,
kein Kopfsteinpflaster, keine engen Gassen,
kein Knietiefer Schlamm,
und kein Sattel mehr auf der Schulter.
Kochani, Kochani, meine Heimat,
du bist mir so schön wie das Paradies.
Kochani, Kochani, geliebtes Städtchen,
du bist nicht mehr so traurig, wie Du einmal warst.
Große, moderne Fabriken,
lange, breite Straßen,
weite grüne Parkanlagen,
bunte Häuser mit Rosengärten.
Das Feld von Kochani trinkt das Wasser,
das der Gratche-See ihm spendet.
Kochani, Kochani, meine Heimat,
du bist mir so schön wie das Paradies.
Kochani, Kochani, geliebtes Städtchen,
du bist nicht mehr so traurig, wie Du einmal warst.
Oben steht das Gedenkhaus,
gebaut von den kämpferischen Helden.
Stolz ist unsere liebe Mutter,
dass sie solche Söhne geboren hat.
Ljupcho Santov, Rade Kratovcheto,
gaben ihr Leben für die Fahne.
Kochani, Kochani, meine Heimat,
du bist mir so schön wie das Paradies.
Kochani, Kochani, geliebtes Städtchen,
du bist nicht mehr so traurig, wie Du einmal warst.
Bemerkung: Ljupcho Santov und Rade Kratovche waren Partisanen, die getötet wurden bei einem Feuergefecht mit der faschistischen bulgarischen Polizei im Dorf Glavovica, am 23 März 1944.
Date added: 16.08.2019
Popularity: 3,059
Popularity: 3,059
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