Page 373 - Kosovo Metohija Heritage

and the tenth, the jug Bogdan, their father.
at their sides nine battle-spears are lying,
On the spears are perched nine keen-eyed falcons, Round the spears stand nine good battle-horses, and nine lions lie beside their masters.
and there roar their grief the nine grim lions,
and there mourn the nine good battle-horses,
and nine keen-eyed falcons scream in sorrow.
But the mother’s heart is hard within her,
Hard the mother’s heart, and dry her eyelids.
and she leads away the nine good horses,
Leads away with them the nine grim lions,
Calls to follow her nine keen-eyed falcons.
Thus returns she to her fair white castle.
From afar her sons’ nine wives beheld her,
as she nearer came they walked to meet her.
Cried aloud to God the nine fair widows,
and there wept with them the nine young orphans, and there mourned the nine good battle-horses, and there roared their grief the nine grim lions, and nine keen-eyed falcons screamed in sorrow. But the mother’s heart is hard within her,
Hard the mother’s heart, and dry her eyelids. When the night is at the hour of midnight Whinnies low the battle-horse of Damian,
and the mother asks of Damian’s loved one:
“Oh my daughter, thou belov’d of Damian Wherefore whinnies Damian’s horse thus sadly? Doth he hunger for the silver wheat-fields?
Doth he thirst for Zvečan’s cooling waters?“
Slowly answers her then Damian’s loved one:
“Oh my mother, mother thou of Damian,
Not for silver wheat-fields is he hungry,
Not for Zvečan’s waters is he thirsty;
Long since learnt he from his master Damian
Until midnight on fine oats to feast him,
after midnight many roads to travel;
Therefore now laments he for his master
Sorrows that he left his lord behind him
There upon the wide plain of Kosovo.”
But the mother’s heart is hard within her,
Hard the mother’s heart, and dry her eyelids.
On the morrow as the dawn is breaking,
Lo, there fly two ravens, two black ravens;
Bloody are their wings up to the shoulders,
From their beaks the blood-flecked foam is falling. ’Tis a hero’s severed hand they carry,
On the hand a golden ring is shining.
See, they drop it in the mother’s bosom,
From her bosom then the mother takes it,
Turns and turns it slowly as she gazes.
Then again she calls to Damian’s loved one:
“Oh my daughter, thou belov’d of Damian,
Tell me, whose this hand that i am holding!“
To the mother answers Damian’s loved one:
The Battle of Kosovo
“Oh my mother, mother thou of Damian,
’Tis our Damian’s hand that thou art holding,
For i know the golden ring, oh mother,
This gold ring i gave him at our marriage.”
and the mother holds the hand of Damian,
Turns and turns it slowly as she gazes;
To the hero’s hand the mother whispers:
“Thou dear hand, oh thou my fair green apple,
Where didst blossom? Where has fate-now plucked thee? Woe is me! thou blossomed on my bosom,
Thou wast plucked, alas, upon Kosovo!“
and the mother’s heart swelled big with anguish,
Swelled the mother’s heart, and broke with sorrow
For her dead, the jugovići—nine brothers
and the tenth, the jug Bogdan, their father.
The Miracle of Lazar’s Head
When they cut off Lazar’s head upon the Blackbirds’ Field Not a single Serb was there to see it
But it happened that a Turkish boy saw,
a slave, the son of one who had been made
Herself a slave, a Serbian mother
Thus the boy spoke having seen it all:
“Oh have pity, brothers; Oh have pity, Turks. Here before us lies a sovereign’s noble head!
in God’s name it would be a sin
if it were pecked at by the eagles and the crows Or trampled on by horses and by heroes.”
He took the head of holy Lazar then
and covered it and put it in a sack
and carried it until he found a spring
and put the head into the waters there
For forty years the head lay in that spring While the body lay upon the field at Kosovo
it was not pecked by eagles or by crows.
it was not trampled on by horses or by heroes. For that, Dear Lord, all thanks be to Thee. Then one day there came from lovely Skoplje a group of youthful carters who conveyed Bulgarians and Greeks to Vidin and to Niš and stopped to spend the night at Kosovo. They made a dinner on that level field,
and ate and then grew thirsty afterwards. They lit the candle in their lantern then
and went to look for waters of a spring.
Then it was that one young carter said:
“See the brilliant moonlight in the water there.” The second carter answered him:
“My brother, i don’t think it’s moonlight,” While the third was silent, saying nothing, Turning in his silence to the east,
and all at once calling out to God,
The one true God, and holy sainted Nicholas: “Help me God! Help me holy Nicholas!”
He plunged into the waters of the spring
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