2018.02.03.
Sarajevo
At the foot of the mountainSarajevo nests, of stories a whole fountain
In it rests. Folk of yester times
Left their lasting marks
some a mark, some a devil’s furrow
But looking back, who can know
Who did well, who did not
And which wars were fought
Who a bitter tear shed
As flute and horn their tune led.
At the foot of the mountain,
Sarajevo nests, of stories a fountain
Of old songs a treasure pot
Of love that poems know not
Forever silent its children will remain
With sadness their lives underlain
They will be taught venom and hate
Dreaming about a distant, happy fate
At home, they will fear their shadow
But looking back, who can know.