Krvava Bajka
Desanka Maksimović
Bilo je to u nekoj zemlji seljaka
Na brdovitom Balkanu,
Umrla je mučeničkom smrću
Četa đaka
U jednom danu.
Iste su godine
Svi bili rođeni,
Isto su im tekli školski dani,
Na iste svečanosti
Zajedno su vođeni,
Od istih bolesti svi pelcovani,
I svi umrli u istom danu.
Bilo je to u nekoj zemlji seljaka
Na brdovitom Balkanu,
Umrla je mučeničkom smrću
Četa đaka
U jednom danu.
A pedeset i pet minuta
Pre smrtnog trena
Sedela je u đačkoj klupi
Četa malena
I iste zadatke teške
Rešavala: koliko može
Putnik ako ide peške…
I tako redom.
Misli su im bile pune istih brojki,
I po sveskama u školskoj torbi
Besmislenih ležalo bezbroj
Petica i dvojki.
Pregršt istih snova i istih tajni
Rodoljubivih i ljubavnih
Stiskali su u dnu džepova.
I činilo se svakom
Da će dugo,
Da će vrlo dugo,
Trčati ispod svoda plava
Dok sve zadatke na svetu
Ne posvršava.
Bilo je to u nekoj zemlji seljaka
Na brdovitom Balkanu
Umrla je mučeničkom smrću
Četa đaka
U jednom danu.
Dečaka redovi celi
Uzeli se za ruke
I sa školskog zadnjeg časa
Na streljanje pošli mirno
Kao da smrt nije ništa.
Drugova redovi celi
Istog časa se uzneli
Do večnog boravišta.
The Legend of the Blood
Translation: Lenarčić Lavrin
It happened in a far-off land of land of peasants
among the Balkan hills, where
martydom befell
a class of schoolboys gay –
all on one day.
About the same year
were they born,
same were the days at school they spent,
same the celebration
to which they went;
same was the day of vaccination,
and same the day their lives were spent.
It happened in a far-off land of land of peasants
among the Balkan hills, where
martydom befell
a class of schoolboys gay –
all on one day.
Five and fifty minutes back
before that fatal hour
still at their desks they sat,
a company of bodies small,
with eager answers to all
those questions difficult: How much
if a traveller went on foot….
and many, many such.
Their thoughts were full of figures;
their satchels full of copy-books
with marks
both good and bad;
a handful of dreams and secrets,
of love and loyalty,
stuffed into their pockets.
And it seemed to each of them
that still for long,
for very long,
they would all run beneath the sun,
until their tasks
were done.
It happened in a far-off land of land of peasants
among the Balkan hills, where
martydom befell
a class of schoolboys gay –
all on one day.
Out came the classmates small
holding each other by the hand;
their lessons but half done
to the shooting place they went
in silence – death to face;
schoolboys small,
one and all,
sent to their eternal dwelling-place.
Historical context: laban.rs/lib/Sarah
