Tuesday, 10 July 2012

Srebrenica poem.

Some beautiful, strong words I discovered on the Internet a few days ago to accompany this heart-breaking image.
Original text in Bosnian, now translated to English (with a lot of help from my partner).

(Source: Pasaluk.blogger.ba)

Why is there no you here........

Salam Alaikum, my sons
Here is your mum next to your graves
I sat between you two, so I can reach you with my hands, and so not one of you is mad, because I am carressing one, while the other is watching
I put my hands on the ground that is covering you, and I am cuddling the grass that has grown over it
Exactly like I was cuddling your hair while you were alive
I'm looking at your tombstones, and the writing of your names and the years when you left this world
My young (flower) buds, mother wasn't gifted what she was waiting for, to sing together with you, and to look forward to my daughter-in-law's
Last night I lay down but I couldn't fall asleep, the damned devil couldn't calm down, so he was always interrupting me while I was awake dreaming
And I was dreaming the most beautiful dream
I was dreaming, my son, how I'm waiting for your wedding party, how I'm kissing the bride, how in my hands I'm holding the Kuran and pogaca, and how you are carrying your wives into your home
I was dreaming, with my eyes open, how I have granddaughters
Five of them
Ah, don't be surprised because I didn't dream about even one male child
Mother can't imagine anymore to raise a male next to her heart
Mother can't stand, my son, to again see how the enemy positions the men into columns
If it happens again, and please God don't let it, at least I have hope that their mothers won't tear the arms from their shoulders holding onto their son, as he is stolen away.

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