Page 719 - Kosovo Metohija Heritage

THe WaRRiORS
OF THe BLaCKBiRD’S FieLD
Where we are now
We are lords of the blue fields
And the ore-rich mountains with no foothills We have married
Each his namesake star
Here in the kingdom we have won Our arms crossed on our breasts We continue the battle
We continue it backwards
We haven’t yet reached The start of the battle lads God knows if we ever shall
From where we are we hear Somewhere high above us The blackbird’s green song
THe BLaCKBiRD’S MiSSiON
The blackbird dries his blood-drenched wings At the fire of red peonies
Before him the field stretches out Inscribed with molten human iron Transmuted into honourable gold
Grass holds sway between the letters And falls them into line
As it wills
The blackbird wrests his field
From the hands of the four black winds And rolls it up from midday to midnight
At midnight he flies over the sky
Bears off in his beak somewhere he knows where
His green scroll
[1958-1971] Vasko Popa, Complete Poems 1953-1987,
anvil Press Poetry, 2011, pp. 191-197.
Kosovo Filed, T. Švrakić, 1913, old postcard
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