Robert Elsie has translated into English the ballad from the version of Margëlliç (modern Margariti), Chameria, called Kostandini e Dhoqina.
All the lads were dashing heroes And the maid was called Dhoqina, Just a young girl, still unmarried, Agile was she like a goshawk.
While alive, you made a promise, This was what you said on parting: ‘Be I dead or be I living I’ll return to you Dhoqina!’ Constantine, my son, where are you?
From the grave arose Constantine, Tombstone turned into a stallion, Graveyard soil became a saddle, On his black horse did he clamber, One by one he crossed the mountains Swiftly, slowly did he journey, Passing seven alpine ranges, Seized his sister from her dancing: “Oh Dhoqina, poor Dhoqina, Do you not long for your family?
Tears are flowing down your mother’s Face who cries to see her daughter.” “Good or bad news are you bringing?” “Come along now with me, sister, As you are, dressed in those garments.” O’er the horse's rump he pulled her As the birds chirped in the mountains: “Tsili viu, tsili viu, Have you seen them, have you seen them, Dead man riding with the living?” Then Dhoqina asked her brother: “Constantine, oh dearest brother, What has happened, what’s the matter?
What’s that heavy smell that’s coming Off your arms and mighty shoulders?” “Smoke and powder from my rifle For I’ve been at war, in battle.” “Constantine, oh dearest brother, What is in your hair that’s glaring, Flaring that it almost blinds me?” “Do not worry, my good sister, Just the dust whirled from the highway.” “Constantine, oh dearest brother, What’s the matter with our house here, Why has it been painted over, Has perchance misfortune struck it?” “Do not worry, fair Dhoqina, It’s just mother who’s grown older.
“Off the horse now, fair Dhoqina, Go into the house, my sister, I’ll be with you in a twinkling.” Constantine flew off that instant And returned unto his graveyard.
All my sons are gone and perished.” “Open up the door, dear mother, For I’ve come back with my brother, Come with Constantine on horseback.” “Constantine is gone and perished, Fell upon the field of battle, Withered, turned to dust his body.” Then she opened up the door and Saw her daughter on the threshold, Both the women died that second.
According to a review by www.nytheatre.com, the story of Doruntine focuses around the Albanian idea of the Besa—essentially a person's most sacred oath; a promise that can never be broken.