Montenegro Petar Petrovic Njegos Serbian Poet

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Thursday 05th of April 2007 04:33:47 PM
Petar Petrovic Njegos: Extracts from his mountain wreath

God is angry with the Serbian people
because of their many mortal sins.
Our kings and tsars trampled upon the Law[60].
They began to fight each other fiercely
and to gouge out each other's very eyes.
They neglected the government and state
and chose folly to be their guiding light.
Their servants ceased to obey their masters
and washed themselves in the blood of their tsars.
Our own leaders, God's curse be on their souls,
carved the empire into little pieces
and sapped the strength of the Serbs wantonly.
Our own leaders, may all their trace vanish,
sowed the bitter seed of disharmony
and thus poisoned the entire Serbian tribe.
Our own leaders, miserable cowards,
thus became the traitors of our nation.
O that accursed supper of Kosovo![61]
It would have been better had you poisoned
all our chieftains and wiped out their traces,
and left Milos standing there on the field,
along with both of his true sworn brothers;[62]
then would the Serb have remained a true Serb!
Vuk Brankovic,[63] O you shameful scoundrel,
was that the way to serve your fatherland?
Was that the way to uphold honesty?
O you, Milos, who does not envy you?
You are the victim of your noble feelings,
you, a mighty military genius,
a terrific thunder that shatters crowns!
The greatness of your noble knightly soul
surpasses the immortal, valiant deeds
of great Sparta and of powerful Rome.
All their brilliant courageous endeavours
your knightly arm places in deep shadow.
Leonidas[64] and Scaevola,[65] can they
match Obilic on any battlefield?
His powerful arm with a single blow
toppled a throne and shook all Tartarus.[66]
The wonder of all valiant knights, Milos,
fell victim at the throne of the world's scourge.
So lies proudly the magnificent duke,
bathed in the spirts of his noble blood,
just as he walked proudly a while ago
among the hordes of the savage Asians,
his chest heaving with a fearsome thought,
devouring them all with his fiery eyes
just as he walked proudly a while ago
to a sacred grave of immortal life,
showing disdain for human worthlessness
and the intrigues of the mad assembly.[67]
God is angry with the Serbian people.
A dragon with seven heads[68] has appeared
and devoured the entire Serbian nation,
the slanderers as well as the slander.[69]
On the ruins of the heroic empire
Milos shone forth with his holy justice.
Made immortal and crowned was the glory o
f both the true sworn brothers of Milos
and the lovely wreath of Jugovics.[70]
The Serbian name has perished everywhere.
Mighty lions have become meek peasants.
Rash and greedy converted to Islam -
- may their Serb milk make them all sick with plague!
Those who escaped before the Turkish sword,
those who did not blaspheme at the True Faith,
those who refused to be thrown into chains,
took refuge here in these lofty mountains
to shed their blood together and to die,
heroically to keep the sacred
oath, their lovely name, and their holy freedom.
Our heads withstood the hard test in battles!
Our brave lads have shone like the radiant stars.
Those who were born in these lofty mountains
fell day by day in the past's bloody wars
and gave their life for honour, name, and freedom.
All of our tears were always wiped away
by the deft sounds of the lovely gusle.[71]
Sacrifices have not been made in vain
since our hard land has now truly become
of Turkish might the insatiable tomb.
What is the cause that for quite some time now
our native hills are shrouded in silence
and no longer echo with warlike cries?
Our idle arms are all covered with rust.
Our land has been left without its leaders.
The high mountains are reeking with heathens.
In the same fold are both wolves and sheep,
and Turk is one with Montenegrin now.
Hodja bellows on the plain Cetinje![72]
A stench has caught the lion in the trap,[73]
wiped out is now the Montenegrin name,
no one crosses himself with three fingers.

Thursday 05th of April 2007 04:36:09 PM
Njegos: It is the dead of night. Everyone is asleep.

BISHOP DANILO (talking to himself)

Lo the devil[28] with seven scarlet cloaks,
with two swords and with two crowns on his head,
the great-grandchild of the Turk, with Koran!
Behind him hordes of that accursed litter,
march to lay waste to the whole planet Earth,
just as locusts devastate the green fields.
If the French dike had not stood in the way,
the Arab sea would have flooded it all![29]
Osman[30] was crowned in an infernal dream
and given the half-moon like an apple.
Orkan![31] What an evil guest in Europe!
Now Byzantium is indeed nothing but
a dowry of youthful Theodora;[31]
the star of doom still hovers over it.
Upon Murat[32] Paleologos[32] calls
to bury both Greeks and Serbs together.
Brankovic[33] and Gerluka[34] want the same.
Thanks, Mohammad,[34] for hanging Gerluka!
Besides Asia, where their nest is hidden,
the devil's tribe gobled up the nations -
one every day, as an owl gulps a bird:
Murat Serbia, and Bajazet Bosnia,
Mohammed Greece and Murat Epirus,
the two Selims Cyprus and Africa.
Each took something, nothing was left over;
it is dreadful to hear what's happening.
World is too small for the devil's large maw
to eat his full, let alone overeat![35]
Janko defends the dead King Wladislaw;[36]
but why do so when he failed to save him?
In Skenderbeg[37] beats Obilic's heart,
but he perished as a forlorn exile.
What can I do? Who is there to help me?
There are few hands and all too little strength.
I'am a lone straw tossing in the whirlwind,
a sad orphan without friend or kinfolk.
My people sleep a deep and lifeless sleep;
no parent's hand to wipe away my tears.
Above my head the heaven is shut tight;
it does not hear my cries or my prayers.
The world has now become a hell for me,
people have turned into hellish spirits.
O my dark day! O my black destiny!
O my wretched Serbian nation snuffed out!
I have outlived many of your troubles,
yet I must fight against the worst of all![38]
Yes, when the head on a body is smashed,
the limbs die out in frightful agony.
Plague of mankind, may God's wrath be on you!
Is half a world you've already poisoned
with your mean deeds not large enough for you,
that you had to spew out all the venom
of your black soul on this hard rock as well?[39]
Is Serbia from the Danube River
to the blue sea too small an offering?
You rule the throne you've unjustly taken[40]
and are prideful of your bloody scepter;
you insult God from the holy altar,
a mosque rises where the broken Cross lies.[41]
Why do you want to poison its shadow,
which people took to the mountain shelters
for their lasting pride and consolation,
to remind them of their heroic past?
It is washed in blood so many times over,
a hundred times in yours, as oft in ours!
Behold the work of that wicked monarch,[42]
whom the devil teaches all kinds of things:
"Montenegro I cannot win or tame,
nor call it mine in any real sense;
this is how one should deal with its people."
And so began the devil's Messiah[43]
to offer them sweetmeats of his false faith.
May God strike you, loathsome degenerates,[44]
why do we need the Turk's faith among us?
What will you do with your ancestors' curse?[45]
With what will you appear before Milos[46]
and before all other Serbian heroes,
whose names will live as long as the sun shines?
When I think of today's council meeting,[47]
flames of horror flare up deep inside me.
A brother will slaughter his own brother,
and the arch-foe, so strong and so evil,
will destroy e'en the seed within mothers.
O wretched day, may God's curse be on you!
when you brought me to the light of this world.
A hundred times I've cursed that hour last year
when the Turks failed, or didn't want, to kill me;
my people's hopes I would not betray now.[48]

Thursday 05th of April 2007 04:38:40 PM
Petar II Petrovic Njegos: Petar II Petrović-Njegoš (Serbian Cyrillic: Петар II Петровић-Његош) was a Serbian Orthodox Prince-Bishop (Serbian: Владика or Vladika) of Montenegro and a ruler who transformed Montenegro from a theocracy into a secular state. However, he is most famous as a poet and is considered by many to be among the greatest poets of the Serbian language. The first notable writer from Montenegro, his notable works include The Mountain Wreath (Serbian: Горски вијенац or Gorski vijenac), the Light of Microcosm (Луча микрокозма or Luča mikrokozma), the Serbian Mirror (Огледало српско or Ogledalo srpsko), and False Tsar Stephen the Little (Лажни цар Шћепан Мали or Lažni car Šćepan Mali).

Thursday 05th of April 2007 04:40:55 PM
Prahu Oca Srbije
Nek se ovaj vijek gordi nad svijema vjekovima,
on će era biti strašna ljudskijema koljenima.
U nj se osam blizanacah u jedan mah iznjihaše
iz kolevke Belonine, i na zemlji pokazaše:
Napoleon, Karlo, Bliher, knez Velington i Suvorov.
Karađorđe, bič tirjanah, i Švarcenberg i Kutuzov.
Arei je, strava zemna, slavom bojnom njih opio
i zemlju im za poprište, da se bore, naznačio.
Iz grmena velikoga lafu izać trudno nije,
u velikim narodima geniju se gnj'jezdo vije:
ovde mu je pogotovu materijal k slavnom djelu
i trijumfa dični v'jenac, da mu krasi glavu smjelu.
Al' heroju topolskome, Karađorđu besmrtnome,
sve prepone na put bjehu, k cilju dospje velikome:
diže narod, krsti zemlju, a varvarske lance sruši,
iz mrtvijeh Srba dozva, dunu život srpskoj duši.
Evo tajna besmrtnika: dade Srbu stalne grudi;
od viteštva odviknuta u njim lafska srca budi.
Faraona istočnoga pred Đorđem se mrznu sile,
Đorđem su se srpske mišce sa viteštvom opojile!
Od Đorđa se Stambol trese, krvožedni otac kuge,
sabljom mu se Turci kunu - kletve u njih nema druge.
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Da, viteza sustopice tragičeski konac prati:
tvojoj glavi bi suđeno za v'jenac se svoj prodati!
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Pokoljenja djela sude, što je čije daju svjema!
Na Borise, Vukašine, opšta grmi anatema,
gadno ime Pizonovo ne sm'je kaljat mjesecoslov,
za Egista uprav sliči grom nebesni, sud Orestov.
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Nad svijetlim tvojim grobom zloba grdna bljuva tmuše,
al nebesnu silnu zraku što ć' ugasit tvoje duše?
Plačne, grdne pomrčine - mogu l' one svjetlost kriti?
Svjetlosti se one kriju, one će je raspaliti.
Plam će, vječno životvorni, blistat Srbu tvoje zublje,
sve će sjajni i čudesni u vjekove bivat dublje.
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Zna Dušana rodit Srpka, zna dojiti Obiliće,
al heroje ka Požarske, divotnike i plemiće,
gle, Srpkinje sada rađu... Blagorodstvom Srpstvo diše...
Bježi, grdna kletvo, s roda - zavjet Srbi ispuniše!
U Beču na Novo ljeto 1847. goda


Thursday 05th of April 2007 04:44:02 PM

Let this century of ours be the pride of all the centuries,
It shall be a fateful era striking awe for generations.
In this century eight children were born as if from the same womb;
from the cradle of Bellona[2] they made their appearance on earth:
Napoleon; Charles[3]; Blucher[4]; the Duke of Wellington[5], and Suvorov[6];
Karageorge, the scourge of tyrants; Schwarzenberg[7] and Kutuzov[8], too.
Ares[9], the horror of the earth, made them drunk with martial glory
and gave them the earth's arena in which to fight one another.
It is not hard for a lion to come forth from a spacious bush.
The nest of genius is built only among greater nations.
There, above all, he finds the stuff needed for his deeds of glory
and a proud garland of triumph to adorn the hero's bold head[10].
But the hero of Topola[11], the great, immortal Karageorge,
saw many hurdles in his way, yet he reached his grandiose goal.
He roused people, christened the land,[12] and broke the barbarous fetters,
summoned the Serbs back from the dead, and breathed life into their souls.
He is the Immortal's secret: he gave the Serbs the chests of steel
and awakened the lion's heart in those who had lost their courage.
The bands of the Eastern Pharaoh[13] turn to ice in fear before George[14].
Through George the Serbian hearts and arms were instilled with high bravery!
Stamboul, the bloodthirsty father of the plague, trembles before him,
even the Turks swear by his sabre - no other oath have they indeed.
Yes, a hero's life is always haunted by a tragic ending.
It was destiny that your head had to pay the price for its wreath![16]
Later generations judge deeds and give to all what they deserve.
Everybody's curse falls on people like Boris[17] and Vukasin[18].
The disgusting name of Piso[19] must not blemish the calendar.
Orestes'[20] justice comes like the bolt from heaven to Aegisthus[21].
Mean envy vomits forth darkness upon your illustrious grave,
but who can put out the powerful, celestial light of your soul?
Miserable, ugly darkness - can it dim the glow of such light?
Darkness hides from the light, and yet it only makes the light more bright[22].
The life-giving flame of your torch will shine for the Serb forever,
and it will grow more luminous and miraculous for ages.
Serbian women used to give birth to Dusan[23] and nurse Obilic[24],
and now Serbian women give birth to such heroes as Pozarski[25],
all wonderful and noble men! Serbdom breathes nobility now.
Away from the Serbs, you vile curse - the Serbs have now fulfilled their vow![26]


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