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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...!
Ode to a Blue Sea Tomb (Plava Grobnica by Milutin Bojic)
ReplyDeleteTranslated 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!
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.
ReplyDeleteBez uzvika: Without a Cry
ReplyDeleteA 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)
Thank you for this further contribution, which is much appreciated
ReplyDelete