Prkosna pesma (Dobrica Erić)

I
divine daughter
Serbia
hereby freely state
with shackles and through the wire
before my witnesses
Force, Suffering and Injustice
that I am guilty and that I confess!

I am guilty of being someone
instead of no one or niemand
I am guilty of going
to the Orthodox church
in times of general Serb-hunt
and guilty of crossing myself
not too often though
thus, with three fingers!

I am guilty of existing
instead of being unreal.
I have a long standing guilt
of standing upright
and looking up to the sky
instead of down at the grass
I am guilty of daring
and challenging injustice
I am guilty of celebrating again
my family patron saint!

I am to blame for reading and writing
in Cyrillic

I am guilty of singing,
laughing and cursing
(and sometimes barking)

I am guilty, and I confess
that I do not know why I do,
and that I know why I don`t know

I am guilty and to name
my greatest guilt
(before I die laughing)
I`m guilty – pig-headed as I am
of being Orthodox
devoted to St. Sava
and of not believing in
the Holy crime and the absolution!

My sin and my guilt is that I exist
and with all that I stand spitefully
refusing to confess I am not real!

Should I confess
to save my life
I will loose the sacred cross
and the patron saint.
Should I refuse
dire future awaits
the entire world will raid my land
Swarms of former men
Thieves and paupers
Packs of robots and other monsters yet
will pounce on my orchards and fields
and my little white houses along the roads
adorned by green goddesses
cherry, apple and plum trees

My ugly image
With monstrous features
That you multiply morning and evening
it`s the image
of your conscience and subconscience
That`s not me on the outside
That`s you – on the inside!
We are very important,
I and my sisters
Truth and Justice
for such mighty forces have rallied against us
and Wrong and Injustice are sneering at us.

Why are Jihad warriors
Crusaders or
Yanks
to quarter my sons and daughters
I suppose that foreign hordes have heard
that we have hearts of gold
and they are ripping them out
to replace their own
hoping to become human.

I fear not death – the black conclusion
but slavery and endless sickness
Death is a common thing among us Serbs
Just like Spring
Summer
Fall
Winter
and it is not so fearsome
especially in daylight
no more than the drought
earthquake
frost
if one meets with it on his farm
his soul cleansed with incense
his honor untarnished.

Fiends
well-fed and deranged,
you`ve banned all in my own home,
but no one can stop me
from singing and laughing as I am dying!
For you no longer laugh or sing
neither on weddings
nor when a child is born!

Spare me the rope and the spear
and crucify me on a mountain top
as your forefathers did my forefather
Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

I will look on
and you close your eyes
for they might shatter
in the brightness of my face
hurry now,
crucify me this day
and I shall be resurreccted sooner!