среда, 12. септембар 2012.
TRANSLATION OF THE POEM
These are my words for goodbye
Words I submit to the future pending,
Some might be healed by those words
And some might be bitterly offended.
My name is Johan, German by birth,
Hans and Greta, my parents’ name.
Ours was an esteemed family,
An only child of splendor and fame.
All the estate was left to me,
An estate huge, no poverty, never
My joy lasted till I found out
That my days are numbered forever.
Doctors said I won’t last much longer
Maybe a year or two, or so they feared
My world collapsed on top of my head
In a single day it all disappeared.
They said I can’t hold much longer
The best of doctors, wise, no other,
The only cure is, they all agreed,
To replace my poor heart with another.
Oh, that stroke of luck and gift from destiny,
The most wonderful moment of my life,
When they called me from the hospital
They found for me another heart.
The price is no object in such moments
And I did not even ask for the cost,
I did not even ask whose the heart was
Thinking only: my life is not lost.
The procedure was as smooth as ever
My new heart swept the pain away,
And only then I understood finally
How much for a life we are willing to pay.
* * *
Shortly after, in those long nights
By some strange faces in my dreams I’m trapped,
And I hear the bells of an orthodox church
And their sad echo wakes me up.
I clearly see those foreign plains
Amazing forests and fields so fine
And meadows and playful streams
Vineyards and hills, in this valley to be mine.
I see this yard in front of the house
The path, the barn and stable, bristling,
An old man is smoking at leisure
Watching his dog and quietly whistling.
Elderly lady feeding the chickens
Throwing them wheat from a bowl so small,
And then quickly rushing to her stock
To pour some water for them all.
And a beautiful woman, slender as a doe
Hurries to tend to lunch for today
Her black hair as a cape behind her
And a blue-eyed child, eager to play.
Oh, that is the image that came to me often
And happiness brought to all my dreams,
Asleep or awake, that special place
Gave me my new love, or so it seems.
* * *
And then the nightmares came along
I was not able to overcome the pain
Some new images started to appear
New nightmares: I am in chain.
We were all roughly pushed in a car
The trip was forever, or so it seems,
There were curses, threats, pain and fear
But what else to expect from the beasts.
That was the Yellow house, city of Burdelj
The horrible place, the horrible name,
It was an Albanian private estate,
Where we were kept until winter came.
The last thing I saw, I still do shiver
A green doctor’s mask in that dreaded place
Lying down, I saw the face clearly
And I understood: it was the enemy’s face.
A blinding light, stronger than sun
Rushes through my tormented brain
They cut my body without anesthetic
And blood gushes together with pain.
Hands of the beasts, that’s the last I saw
Enemy’s hands, I clearly see,
On those hands, shivering, dying,
The very heart they stole from me.
* * *
That eerie scream piercing through the night
Familiar nightmares my tormentors had sawn
I kept thinking that dreams were deceptive
And that the relief will be brought by dawn.
I set on a journey, long, unfamiliar
To find the source, that’s what I will do
Set on the journey as if I knew the path
Where is my heart sending me to?
Kosovo was my destination
My body took me there, and my soul
I set on the journey as if I knew it
As if I knew that place, knew it all.
All of a sudden the church from my dreams
Surrounded by guards, I was surprised to see,
Several words I spoke with those men
Why the church was guarded, that surprised me.
What kind of people would do the unthinkable
This medieval beauty who could burn?
Is there a human soul left in them
Are they aware what destiny brings in return?
I see before me a small village
Surrounded by the barbed wire
As if the village was cursed forever,
Haunted people, as if torched by fire.
Take a look, lady Europe, I screamed
Look at the justice given by you
For how long will this nation suffer
Under oppression, old and new.
Above the sorrow, above the wire
Two eyes searching, sad and hollow
That was a face of a child, so familiar,
In my sleepless nights it soothed my sorrow.
The child approached me through the wire
Embraced me with tiny arm, so frail,
God’s creature, a heavenly flower,
Quietly stuttered: “Daddy, you came.”
Crazy and wild, my heart skipped a beat
Stitches will burst, that I can see
What did those words mean?
What has the child seen in me?
I did not mean to, my arms on their own
Moved towards this fragile child
This gentle child, oh I remember,
Was a beam of light when I almost died.
Same woman from dreams appeared rushing
From the guarded yard, wire high and deep,
“Milan, my child, this is not your father
To angels in heaven he went to sleep.
Our Jovan is the guardian of Kosovo
Up there, together with Lazar so true
I always hear him when it is windy,
He comes to me when I look at you.”
And so we stand, divided by wire,
But our hearts are bound by this love so fine,
And the whole, whole world stood still,
Brought to a still by this spark divine.
Going back home, I stopped for a second
I was amazed, proud, and I was strong,
As long as Jovan guards it from heaven
To Serbs Kosovo shall belong.
As of yesterday, I am Petrovic Janko,
German by birth, Serb by my religion new,
This is my story, as I strongly wish
For the whole world to learn what is true.
Bow your heads in shame, bow low
Punish the guilty, says this poem of mine.
Give some peace to the true victims
Their names in glory forever will shine.