Cry, the Beloved Country, and light with your tears' powers
the thought smoldering in the desire that can never
rest.
Of all the tears that are shed now on this Planet of ours,
it's the tears of My Country's children that are the saddest.
Who shall, and what with, for all those Children's Tears pay,
for fear, no sleep and happiness which into the unknown soar?
Who shall give back the children everything taken from them away,
by this evil, contain within one single and short word - war?
Cry Beloved Country, lonely and stigmatized unfairly.
Your tears have long entered the Collections of Poems true.
You have lifted all your Children's bones from the pits barely,
When your Children are being thrown into bottomless pits anew.
You who are destroying Churches, huts and palaces all,
you fanatic warriors, man-haters, sun-eaters wild,
who are you making now this New Life and New World for,
when children from you in the forest, among the beasts hide?
Cry, Beloved Country, the tears of the bereaved Mother
of children who in wolves' and fox' lairs underground school.
With their fathers and mothers pointing guns at one another,
while their uncles the knives at them and at one another pull.
Let the looks and the guns pointed now at all Children's hearts
and at the White Birds above all the trenches turn to stone.
What kind of life can there be when a Child from this Life parts?
From whom shall the dawn break above Children's Graves, all alone?
There is not a Flag in this rotten world, and there should not be,
no matter what it's made of, pure silk or the velvet soft,
deserving the wind fluttering it for the world to see,
if with drops of Children's blood it's sprinkled so very oft.
Cry, Beloved Country, in the jaws of the dragon mean,
(and let there be more of You, at least in the Tears you shed),
until All Three Gods take pity on You, till they have seen,
and cease the death thrown among men and dogs, among the dead.
Take a look at your Children, at those old faces of theirs,
youngsters with crutches, learning to walk now, like their fathers,
helpless and withered Infants all sitting in their wheelchairs,
graves with no names, with no tombstones,
and the grief Crazed Mothers,
and homeless Old Men, in plum, orchards, alone or in pairs,
burnt out sticks, staring into the sky, like many others.
Cry, Beloved Country, and light with your tear's powers
your heart beating within the desire that can never rest.
Of all the tears that are shed now on this Planet of ours,
it's the tears of My Country's children that are the saltiest.
Misao koja tinja u svakoj našoj želji
Od svih Suza koje sad kaplju po Planeti
Ko će, i čime, da plati tolike Dečje Suze
Strah, Nesanicu i Radost odletelu u nepovrat
Ko će Deci da vrati sve ono što im uze
ovo zlo, stalo svo u kratku reč - rat?
Plači, Voljena Zemljo, oljagana i sama
Suze su Tvoje davno ušle u Pesmarice
Još nisi sve Dečje Kosti ni povadila iz jama
a već ti opet bacaju Decu u jame bezdanice.
Vi što nam rušite Crkve, kućerke i palate
ratnici fanatici, ljudomrsci i suncožderi
za koga Novi život i Novi Svet stvarate
kad Deca beže od vas u šume, među zveri?
Plači, Voljena Zemljo, Suzama Mališana
što uče školu u vučjim i lisičijim jamama
Očevi i Majke im se gledaju preko nišana
a Stričevi i Ujaci na njih palacaju kamama.
Neka se skamene pogledi i nišani uprti
u Dečja Srca, u Bele Ptice nad rovovima
Kakav to Život može da nikne iz Dečje Smrti
Kome će svanuti dan na Dečjim Grobovima?
Nijedna Zastava na ovom trulom svetu
makar od same svile i kadive satkana
ne zaslužuje da se zavijori na vetru
ako je i Dečjom Krvlju pokapana.
Plači, Voljena Zemljo, u čeljustima ale
(neka Te bar u Suzama što više bude)
sve dok se sva tri Boga na Tebe ne sažale
i ne preseku pomor bačen međ pse i ljude.
Pogledaj svoju Decu sa staračkim licima
Mladiće na štakama što uče prve korake
Uvelu Novorođenčad u invalidskim kolicima
Bezimene Grobove, Raspamećene Majke
i Starce beskućnike u tuđim šljivicima
što zure u Nebo, nalik na ugašene ugarke.
Plači, Voljena Zemljo, i Suzama osvetli
Svoje Srce što kuca u svakoj našoj želji
Od svih Suza koje sad kaplju po Planeti
najslanije su Dečje Suze u Mojoj Zemlji!
Dobrica Erić
(1992)
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