Wednesday, 27 January 2010

Plava grobnica (Blue Graveyard), Milutin Bojic


Does anyone know where I can find an English translation of the Serbian poem "Plava grobnica" (Blue Graveyard, or Blue Tomb) by Milutin Bojic?

It's about the tragic fate of many soldiers of the Serbian army who died on the island of Vido (Corfu) after their retreat through Albania, the terrible long march and evacuation to Corfu in 1916. Their bodies were buried at sea. I've read Flora Sandes' account of their bravery and suffering ("An English Woman-Sergeant in the Serbian Army", 1916), and watched two moving readings of the poem on YouTube. It seems to be a poem that should be available in English.

PLAVA GROBNICA

Stojte, galije carske! Sputajte moćne krme,
Gazite tihim hodom!
Opelo neko šapćem u podne puno srme
Istopljene nad vodom...

I have a copy of the booklet, "Pilgrimage to Corfu" by Ljubomir Saramandic (Belgrade 2004), which contains an English version of "Departure" by Milutin Bojic:

"Through winter midnight where despair is falling,
Through whirlwind, ravines, snowdrifts and waters...

Golgotha is awaiting...!




4 comments:

  1. Ode to a Blue Sea Tomb (Plava Grobnica by Milutin Bojic)

    Translated by Michael M. Petrovich

    Hail to you, imperial galleys! Restrain your

    mighty rudders!

    Stroke your oars silently!
    
I'm proudly officiating a sublime Requiem in the chill
    
of the night
    
Upon these sacred waters.

    Here at the bottom, where seashells tire in sleep

    And upon the dead algae peat falls, 

    Stretch the graves of the brave, couched brother
    
beside brother,

    Prometheuses of Hope, Apostles of Pain.

    Don't you feel the wafting sea,

    That it may not trouble their holy repose?

    From the deep abyss peaceful slumber ebbs,

    And in tiring flight the moonlight slowly passes.

    This is a mysterious temple and a sad graveyard
    
With decaying carcasses, unfathomably real.
    
Silent like the night on the tip of the Ionian Sea
    
Dark as a conscience, cold and despairing.

    Don't you feel from your most depressing moods 

    That piety grows over this benediction
    
And the air fills with curious gentleness?

    That great soul of the fallen roams

    Hail to you, imperial galleys! Upon this tomb

    my dear kindred ones

    Veil the trumpets in mourning black.

    Let your sentry, upright, chant the holy dirge
    
Here, where waves come to an embrace!

    For the centuries will pass as the white foam
    
vanishes upon the sea without a trace,
    
And a new and great age will come in its place, 

    To create a splendid home upon this grave.

    But these waters, in which was shrouded 

    the terrible mystery of the Epic,
    
these waters will be a cradle in Time of legends revealed,

    Where the soul will seek out its Destiny.

    Buried are here once ancient garlands

    And the passing joy of more than one generation,
    
That's why this cemetery lies in the shadow of waves
    
Between the bosom of the sea and the vault celestial.

    Hail to you, imperial galleys! Extinguish the torches,

    Let the oars come to a blustering rest,
    And when the Requiem prayers are said, steal away
    
into the dark night

    inaudibly and with reverential awe.

    I wish for the eternal silence to rule

    and for the glorious dead to hear the noise of Battles, 

    And rejoice in our cries of victory, as we cast ourselves beneath
    
the wings of Glory upon the fields vermillion with blood.

    For, there far away, battles sway

    With the same blood that emanates from this resting-place:

    Here above the eye of the resting lords, 

    There before the son's history is made.

    That's why I seek peace, to officiate a Requiem

    without words, without tears and quiet sighs,

    Mingle with the odor of powder, the perfume of incense
    
As we hear resound the far noise of the cannon.

    Hail to you, imperial galleys! In the name
    
of a conscientious fast 

    Glide lightly upon these sacred waters.
    
A Requiem I'm officiating, one that heavens
    
have yet to see upon these sacred waters!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks for this important contribution, which is much appreciated. We read extracts from another translation on the caique near Vido a few weeks ago, as part of the Durrell School Seminar on The History and Culture of the Ionian Islands.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Bez uzvika: Without a Cry
    A poem by Milutin Bojic


    For us there is no shock nor surprise anymore,
    Dear and kindred are to us all nations:
    Between sunlight, and beneath wild thunder's roll,
    We're at peace, as in the cradle of our native home.

    Our Homeland is renowned for her losses and sufferings,
    Roaming abroad we bear her sorrow;
    She's immersed in our blood's eternal wounds,
    And, I implore you, Fate, to lay her thus to rest!

    For these reasons we're no strangers to the seas,
    Nor the tumuli of our centuries-long dead;
    We sit still at the world's banquet hall (holding our ire)
    While the trampling foe imbibes the scent of our flowers.

    As in a religious procession, with clarion sounds
    From nook to nook, from town to town we roam,
    At times alone, at times with children, flock and loves,
    Carrying the standards of our greatness and our fall.

    We are now playing out our scale of old,
    The scale of Providence that others hardly thread;
    That is why today nothing to us is unfamiliar,
    Seems to us everywhere we go, we were there before.

    And when we stoke the ashes of our dreams,
    Tales of time long past will be told again:
    We'll be listening to the fire and her mirth,
    Like to the host arriving home from a hunt

    With the same song he left that morning for the mountain.

    (Translated by Michael M. Petrovich)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Thank you for this further contribution, which is much appreciated

    ReplyDelete