the heart of a slave for all time

 
everyday lament

How hard is it to be weak,
how hard it is to be alone,
and be a star, but to be young!
I be weak, and powerless,
and I without anywhere anyone,
and anxious, and desperate.
I step on the road,
and be trampled in the mud,
With no star shining in the sky.
Without your star of the accident,
it sowed over the cradle,
With rainbows and false prophecies.
- Oh God, oh God, remember
all promises bright,
you gave them to me.
Oh God, oh God, remember
and love, and the victory,
and bay leaves, and gifts.
I know that the Son of your travels
the valley of the world dreary
on thorns and stones,
from pillar to post,
and his feet were bloody,
and his heart was wounded.
And his bones are weary,
and his soul is sad,
and he is alone and abandoned.
And no sister or brother,
and no father or mother,
and no expensive or otherwise.
And there is not nobody
the needle thorn in the heart
and the flames on his hands.
I'm all alone and travels
under the closed of blue,
before darkened the open sea,
and to whom to complain?
That it no one is listening,
nor brothers who roam.
Oh, God, stinging your word
and close her throat,
and eager that he cried.
The preaching of the bonfire
and I am obliged to cry out,
or I firebrand burst.
So let me be a bonfire on the hills,
and let my breath in flames,
when I scream from the rooftops!
Oh God, only to finish
triste this roaming
under the canopy that does not hear.
Because I need a powerful word,
because I need an answer,
and love, or holy death.
Bitter wormwood wreath,
dark is the chalice of poison,
I blazing ilinštak.

Because I am sick of being poor,
because I am sick of being alone
(if I can be to be strong,
if I can be be expensive)
but the painful, agonizing
be already old and so Young!
 
Tin Ujevic
Zabavnik, in 1917.
 
 
 


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