Page 715 - Kosovo Metohija Heritage

The Abandoned Church
Milan Rakić
There lies the ancient icon o f the crucified Christ a trickle of blood seeps down his broken ribs; eyes dead, lips pale, Death itself;
above the head, a halo of hammered silver.
Donated by former nobles and pious serfs, a necklace o f ducats glows about His neck; The icon’s h e inlaid in pure silver,
Was chased by an artist from Debar.
Thus lies Christ within the barren temple,
as dusk gradually falls everywhere,
and a flight of night birds prepares for plunder, alone in the Barren church where bats circle, Desolate and awesome Christ opens his arms, eternally awaiting a flock that is no more...
The Field of Kosovo
Matija Bećković
They are stealing my memory Curtailing my past
Snatching the centuries Turning churches into mosques Gutting the script
Pummeling the graves Ripping out the foundation Overturning the cradle
They take from me that
which i have taken from no one My treasuries and capitals
i know not what is mine
Nor where my borders lie
My people are yoked and bestrewn They are burning my deeds
and eradicating my existence
The field of martyrs with its blood-soaked grass i dare not say is mine
They stop me from entering my home
Saying i sold it
The land i purchased from heaven Was promised by someone to them Whoever made that promise
Lied to them
Why does he not promise them That which is his?
That is why they assail me in unison Furious that i recognized them.
Kosovka devojka, Lazar Vozarević, drawing from The Kosovo Cycle, 1966–1968
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