PRKOSNA PESMA
Ja Rab Božji
Srbin sa prosedom bradom
izjavljujem dragovoljno
kroz lance i žicu
pred svedocima
silom, mukom i nepravdom
da sam kriv i da priznajem krivicu!
Kriv sam što sam neko
a ne niko i netko
Kriv sam što u doba opšteg srbobrsta
idem u pravoslavnu crkvu
doduše poretko
i sto se krstim ovako
s tri prsta!
Kriv sam što jesam
a treba da nisam
Kriv sam odavno
što stojim uspravno
i gledam u nebo, umesto u travu
Kriv sam što se drznuh protiv krivde
kriv sam što opet slavim svoju krsnu slavu!
Kriv sam što pišem i čitam ćirilicom
kriv sam što pevam, smejem se i psujem
a ponekad i lajem
Kriv sam i priznajem
da ne znam što znam i da znam što ne znam
Kriv sam, i da zavrsim
s najvećom krivicom
(pre nego što se zacenem od smeha)
Kriv sam tvrdoglavac
sto sam Pravoslavac
i Svetosavac i što ne verujem
u sveti zločin i oproštaj greha!
Kriv sam i grešan dakle što postojim
i kad već postojim i još drsko stojim
što bar ne priznam da ne postojim!
Ako to priznam da sacuvam glavu
izgubiću časni krst i krsnu slavu
Ako ne priznam crno mi se piše
ceo svet će na moju Zemlju da kidiše
Rulje bivših ljudi lopova i golja
čopori robota i drugih monstruma
kidisaće na moje voćnjake i polja
i na moju belu kuću pored druma
oko koje kao najlepše odive
cvetaju tresnje, jabuke i sljive.
Pa evo
priznajem i to
za spas roda
Ja vise ne postojim
skinite me s liste
Ja sam od sad samo
vazduh, svetlost i voda
tri elementa koja vam koriste.
A ovo što pred vama govori i hoda
to je ono što vi od mene stvoriste!
Moja ružna slika
ozverena lika
koju umnožavate u večeri i jutra
to je slika vaše svesti i podsvesti
to nisam ja, spolja
to ste vi – iznutra!
Moj dušmanine sa hiljadu ruku
s hiljadu slugu i sluškinja laži
ubrao si mi sunce ko jabuku
i radost čistu ko bulku u raži.
Moji će potomci piti jed i čemer
a tvoji već piju gorku medovinu
za krvav novac kojim puniš čemer
rasprodajući moju đedovinu.
Usud će ti ludačku košulju obući
i tada će se malo razdaniti
ili će planeta od sramote pući
i sve nas u isti ambis sahraniti!
Mnogo ste važne
Zemljo moja mila
Ti i Tvoje sestre
Istina i Pravda
čim se na vas digla ovolika sila
čim su na vas zinule
krivda i nepravda.
Rulje bivših ljudi
ubica i golja
čopori robota i drugih monstruma
palacaju na tvoje voćnjake i polja
i na moju belu kuću pored druma
oko koje kao najlepše odive
cvetaju lipe, jabuke i šljive.
Šta će ovde dzihadlije
krstaši, farmeri
koji Ti čereče sinove i kćeri
Mora da su čule belosvetske bande
da imaju zlatna srca
pa ih vade
da ih presade u sopstvene grudi
ne bi li i oni tako bili ljudi.
Gospodo tužioci suci i dželati
ispisali ste mi svoje zapovesti
po zenicama najfinijem staklu
Što teže živim, lakše ću umreti.
Zašli ste mnogo u noć poodmaklu
ali uzalud ćete linčovati
najgostoljubiviji narod na planeti
(zbog čega ćete goreti u paklu)
jer Ljudsko Srce
čudo nad čudima
neće da se primi u vašim grudima!
Mi se ne plašimo smrti
crne vuge
već ropskog života i bolesti duge
Smrt je česta pojava međ nama Srbima
kao što su proleće, leto, jesen, zima.
I nije strašnije
pogotovu danju
od suse, poplave, zemljotresa, mraza
kad je čovek sretne na svome imanju
okađene duše i svetla obraza.
Zlonamernici
siti i maniti
sve mi zabraniste u rođenoj kući
al ne može mi niko zabraniti
da pevam i da se smejem umirući
a to se vama više ne događa
ni kad svadbujete
ni kad vam se rađa!
Poštedite me koca i konopca
i razapnite me na vrhu planina
kao vaši praoci što su mog Praoca
Isusa Hrista Nazarećanina.
Ja ću da gledam
a vi zažmurite
inače će vam se oči rasprsnuti
od sjaja mog lica
Samo, požurite
što pre me razapnete
pre ću vaskrsnuti!
Dobrica Erić (1993)
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ENGLISH TRANSLATION
DEFIANT SONG
I
the servant of God
the Serb
announce willingly
through chains and wires
before the witnesses
Power, Agony and Injustice,
that I am guilty and admit my crime!
I am guilty that I am somebody
and not a nothing and nobody
I am guilty that in a time of general
serb-hating
I go to an Orthodox church
and make the sign of the cross like this,
with three fingers!
I am guilty of being
when I ought not to be.
I have been guilty for a long time now
of standing upright
and gaze upon heaven, instead of the grass
I am guilty of having stood up to injustice
I am guilty
of once again honouring my patron saint.
I am guilty of reading and writing cyrillic
I am guilty of singing, of laughing, and
I am guilty, this I admit,
of knowing what I do not know
and not knowing what I do know.
I am guilty, to end with my greatest crime,
I am guilty of being stubborn
and of being an Orthodox
and a follower of Saint Sava and of not believing
in such things as holy crime.
I am guilty
then
of existing
and when already existing and rudely standing
of not admitting that I do not exist.
If I admit that
in order to save my head
I will lose the venerable cross and my patron saint
If I do not admit that
my outlook is bleak
the entire world will harass my nation
Hoards of former people
thieves and vagrants
packs of robots and other monsters
will attack my orchards and fields
and my white house along the road
around which, as the loveliest of maidens,
blossom cherries, apples, and plums.
So here,
I admit this too,
for the salvation of my people.
I no longer exist
remove me from your list
I am from now on only
air, light and water,
three useful elements
And this thing that before you walks and talks
that is what you have made of me!
My enemy with a thousand hands,
a thousand servants and false handmaidens,
you have plucked my sun as you would an apple
and my joy as you would a poppy among the rye.
My descendents shall drink despair and bitterness
but yours already drink bitter honey-wine
for the blood money which fills your money belt
from the sale of my ancestral land.
Fate will give you a straight jacket
and then there will come daylight
or the planet will burst from shame
and bury us all in the abyss!
You must be very important
you, my dear Land,
and your sisters
Truth and Justice,
since so many powers have arisen against you
since Untruth and Injustice
stand before you with jaws agape.
Hoards of former people
thieves and vagrants
packs of robots and other monsters
already surround your orchards and fields
and my white house along the road
around which, as the loveliest of maidens,
blossom lindens, apples, and plums.
What do these warriors of jihad,
of crusade, these farmers
that torture your sons and daughters
seek?
These worldly bands must have heard
that they have golden hearts
so they are removing them
to transplant them into their own torsos
in hopes that they, too, will become people.
My respected prosecutors,
my judges and executioners,
you have written out your commandments for me
all over my pupils,
the finest of glass.
The harder it is for my to live,
the easier it will be for me to die.
You have gone too deep into a late, dark night
but you will lynch in vain the most hospitable nation on the planet,
because human hearts,
miracle of miracles,
cannot be transplanted into your inhuman torsos!
We do not fear death,
the darkness,
but rather we fear a slave's life and lengthy illness
Death is a frequent occurrence among the Serbs
just like spring, summer, autumn and winter,
and it is no worse
especially by day
than drought, floods, earthquakes, and frost,
when a man meets these on his own land
with censed soul and clear conscience.
You who wish us harm,
satieted and mad,
you have forbidden me all in my own home
but nobody can forbid me
to sing and to laugh while dying,
two things you no longer do
even while celebrating marriage
or birth.
Spare me the stake and rope
and crucify me on a mountain top
just as your ancestors crucified my ancestor
Jesus Christ the Nazarene.
I shall watch,
but you close your eyes
otherwise they will burst
from the glow of my face.
Just hurry -
the sooner you crucify me
the sooner I will resurrect.
*Dobrica Eric*
Topic: Prkosna pesma - Defiant Song by Dobrica Eric (Read 4956 times)