Skip to main content

Full text of "Kosšovo : heroic songs of the Serbs ;"

See other formats






Kossovo : 

3 1924 026 576 136 

Cornell University 

The original of tinis book is in 
the Cornell University Library. 

There are no known copyright restrictions in 
the United States on the use of the text. 






Translated from the Original by 


Introduction by 


Historical Preface by 


Frontispfce by 










By Maurice Baring 

I HAVE been asked by Miss Rootham to write a few 
words of introduction to her translation of some of 
the Epic Songs of Serbia. No sooner had I read 
them than I reah'sed what I had already suspected, 
that the poems speak for themselves and need no 

They have that quality which is common to all 
great epic poetry ; the quality we find in the Iliad 
and the Odyssey, in the " Chanson de Roland " and in 
the " Word of the Fight of the Prince Igor," in the 
Bible, in Villon, and in some of the very great poets 
when they are sufficiently inspired to forget when 
their " style " disappears that they are poets. It 
is a quality which arises from the natural and direct 
observation of life by man. 

The writers of these ballads saw the world with 
the eyes of a child and with the heart of man, as it 
is shaped by life. 

The similes used are such that any worker in the 
fields would understand and recognise. 

" Like a cloud their battle-standards streaming 
And their tents stretched like the snow in winter." 

" If the gentle rain should fall from heaven, 
Not one inch of ground could then receive it." 

" And he threw the Turks into disorder 
As the falcon strikes the homing pigeons." 


It is very seldom that modern poets succeed in 
achieving what Monsieur Anatole France calls 
" ces traits de nature qu'on dit le comble de I'art 
quand I'art a le bonheur de les trouver." 

In the Slav literature these happy moments occur 
more often. Pushkin, thanks to his genius and to his 
old nurse, succeeded in catching in his fairy tales and 
sometimes in his poems the authentic Volkston, and 
a line such as 

" I mor'ye gdye bezhali korabli " 

might have come out of these ballads. 

Translate the line (and this is always the trouble 
in translating epic speech from one language into 
another), and you get a bald statement of fact, 

" And the ships flying upon the sea." 

In the original, the words are simple to nakedness 
but they are not bald, and they call up the picture 
like magic : they are the last word of felicity. 
Compare this with the treatment of a similar im- 
pression by a great poet who has not the gift of epic 
simplicity, and you will at once see the difference. 

Tennyson — and Swinburne quotes the line as being 
a signal example of Tennyson's miraculous gift of 
evoking landscape — says : 

" And white sails flying on a yellow sea." 

But Pushkin reaches a higher, a more magical effect 
without the aid of epithet or colour. 

And so it is in these ballads. The colours are 
primitive hke those of the primitive painters who 
painted the holy figures because they believed in 


them, and not because they wanted to make an 
arrangement of line and colour. The similes are 
taken from a first-hand communion with the sights 
and facts of nature. The emotions are the primitive 
emotions of man, "Not sicklied o'er with the pale 
cast of thought." But the mention of the emotions 
leads us to the second fundamental characteristic 
of these ballads : to the soul of them which differs 
from that of Grecian epics, and which is more akin 
to the " Chanson de Roland," to the Gestes of the 
mediaeval knights, and to the Celtic epics, but which 
has a quality and savour which is entirely its own 
and entirely Slav. 

The soul of these ballads is saturated with Christian 
faith, the faith of the crusaders, of the Morte d'Arthur 
of Villon; the faith of the graciiux galaris who 
stormed Jerusalem with young Lord Raymond. 
The " Ballad of the Fall of the Serbian Empire " 
gives us the key-note of all this song. 

A message comes from Jerusalem to the King : — 

" Say, dost thou desire a heav'nly kingdom. 
Or dost thou prefer an earthly kingdom i 
If thou should'st now choose an earthly kingdom, 
Knights may girdle swords and saddle horses, 
Tighten saddle-girths and ride to battle, — 
You will fight the Turks and crush their army. 
But if thou prefer a heav'nly kingdom, 
Build thyself a church upon Kossovo, 
Let not the foundations be of marble, 
Let them be of samite and of scarlet. . . . 
And to all thy warriors and their leaders, 
Thou shalt give the sacraments and orders, 
For thy army will most surely perish. 
And thou, too, wilt perish with thine army." 


And the king chose the Heavenly Kingdom, built 
the Church, and went out to battle— and fell. 

These ballads sing the lost cause ; the foredoomed 
loyalty ; the cause which is lost on earth but which 
triumphs in another world. The warriors go to war 
certain beforehand of defeat, but they fight to the 
last man nevertheless, certain of victory in defeat. 

This is where these ballads remind us of the Celtic 

" They went out to battle, but they always fell." 

Such is the burden of the Irish epics. It is a proud 
and triumphant burden like the music of a funeral 
march, which however piercing its melancholy, how- 
ever poignant its sadness, soars nevertheless in 
triumph above the vain and transitory triumphs of 
the world. 

But the grief is great, the anguish complete ; great 
and complete enough to break the hearts of those 
who are not killed in battle : the mothers, the wives, 
the sisters. 

" And the mother's heart swelled big with anguish. 
Swelled the mother's heart and broke with sorrow — 
For her dead, the Jugovitch, — nine brothers. 
And the tenth, the Jug Bogdan, their father." 

In reading this we seem to look upon those tre- 
mendous blocks of living stone in which Mestrovitch 
has written the sorrow of Serbia ; the undying sorrow, 
the unspeakable anguish, the certainty of victory in 
defeat ; never so great as now, and never so trium- 

July, 1919. 


By Janko Lavrin 

It is now about a hundred years since the Serbian 
philologist, Vuk Karadjich, published his first collec- 
tion of Serbian folk-songs, revealing their originality 
and beauty to literary Europe. The charm of these 
simple and powerful poems was so great that in the 
very beginning they aroused genuine enthusiasm 
wherever they penetrated. Poets, folk-lorists, savants 
— all found reasons enough to study and enjoy them. 
One of their greatest admirers, Jacob Grimm, asserted 
that *' since the days of Homer, one could say, in the 
whole of Europe there was not a single phenomenon 
which would make us understand tlie essence, as well 
as tlie genesis, of epics, to such an extent as they (i.e., 
the Serbian folk-songs) do." Goethe himself wrote 
on several occasions about the character of these 
poems (in his Kunst and Altertum), and, during a 
conversation with Eckermann, he once ventured to 
compare the beauty of some examples to that of the 
Song of Songs. 

With the vogue of Romanticism the interest for 
Serbian folk-epics grew all over Europe ; translations, 
imitations, mystifications (for instance. La Gouzla, 


by Prosper Merimee), as well as paraphrases, appeared 
almost in all European languages/ gaining more and 
more admiration for the poetical genius of the 
Serbian peasantry. The high appreciation of this 
utterly fresh and naive genius may be sufficiently 
illustrated by quoting some passages of the well- 
known German translator of the Serbian songs. Miss 
Talvj (Therese von Jacob, later Mrs, Robinson). 
In her English work. Historical View of the Languages 
and Literature of the Slavonic Nations (New York, 
MDCCCL), she writes : " All that the other Slav 
nations, or the Germans, the Scotch, and the 
Spaniards, possess of popular poetry, can at the 
utmost be compared with the lyrical part of the 
Serbian songs, called by them female songs, because 
they are sung only by females and youths ; but the 
long epic extemporised compositions, by which a 
peasant bard, sitting in a large circle of other peasants, 
in unpremeditated but perfectly regular and har- 
monious verse, celebrates the heroic deeds of their 
ancestors or contemporaries, has no parallel in the 
whole of history since the days of Homer." And, 
again, " Indeed, what epic popular poetry is, how it 
is produced and propagated, what powers of invention 
it naturally exhibits, — powers which no art can com- 
mand, — we may learn from this multitude of simple 
legends and fables. The Serbians stand in this respect 
quite isolated ; there is no modern nation that can 
be compared to them in epic productiveness; and 
a new light seems to be thrown over the grand 

1 The first English translation of selected Serbian songs, by 
John Bo wring, was published in 1827. 


compositions of the ancients. Thus, without pre- 
sumption, we may pronounce the publication of these 
poems one of the most remarkable literary events in 
modern times. ..." 

It would lead too far to quote the opinions on this 
subject of other important authorities, such as the 
great Polish poet Adam Mickiewicz, the Russian 
scholar Pypin, the Italian writer, poet, and savant 
Nicolo Tomaseo, etc. But common to all of them 
is the fact that they give to the Serbian folk-poetry 
one of the foremost places among the poetry of all 


The chief reason for such an appreciation v/as, 
first of all, the high quality of the songs themselves, 
— both the lyrical and the epic. As to the lyrics, 
they do not much differ, on the whole, from the 
profound lyrical songs of the other Slav nations, 
excepting that we find in them more oriental motives, 
(especially in Bosnia), oriental colour, fire, and tender- 
ness, sometimes also oriental fatalism. However, in 
spite of all the abundance and beauty of the lyrics, 
the true glory of Serbian popular poetry is due to its 
epic ballads which may be roughly divided into four 
main groups or cycles. 

The oldest cycle includes the mythological, or 
rather legendary songs, among which we find the echo 
of all the most important legendary motives. Espe- 
cially well rendered are a powerful variation of the 
(Edipus-myth (in the ballad " Simon the Foundling"), 


and that of the Leonora-motive, while the splendid 
" Song of the Building of Skadar " has been pro- 
claimed by Jacob Grimm one of the most touching 
ballads of all times and nations." 

To the next group belong the poems dealing with 
the heroes of the tragic battle on Kossovo (1389) in 
which Serbia lost her freedom. The chief figures 
of this cycle are the noble Tsar La^ar, the two rivals 
— his sons-in-law Milosh Obilich and Vuk Bran- 
kovich, and the old hero Jug Bogdan with his nine 
sons whom the mother finds dead on the field of 
battle. (See the ballad—" The Death of the Mother 
of the Jugovitch.") The characters of the heroes and 
events are so splendidly outlined that their beauty 
induced several Jugoslavs, as well as foreigners, to 
attempt to bring all the Kossovo-ballads into one 
organic whole — into a kind of Serbian Iliad ; but all 
such attempts have so far been unsatisfactory.^ 

The third cycle of the Serbian ballads deals with 
the symbolical national hero Marko Kralyevich 
(Marko, the king's son), whose deeds and exploits 
are the true mirror of the Serbian, or rather of the 
entire Jugoslav soul and character. Lastly, the 
fourth group comprises all the poems treating the 
struggles with the Turks in modern times, especially 
the heroic exploits of the Montenegrins, and Serbia's 

1 This ballad has been printed (in Helen Rootham's translation) 
in the New Age, of May 22nd, igig. 

2 Siegfried Kapper (1851) and Grbber (1885) tried that in Ger- 
man, A. d'Avril in French (in his La Bataille de Kossovo, Paris, 
1 865), Mi-s. Elodie Lawton-Mijatovich in English (in her Kossovo, 
London, 1881) ; Armin Pavich, S toy an Novakovich, Stoykovich, 
etc., tried to do the same in Serbo-Croatian language. 


revolution against the Turkish yoke in the beginning 
of the nineteenth century. 

The metre, common to all of these ballads, is the 
decasyllabic unrhymed trochaic with a caesura after 
the fourth syllable. Another common feature is 
their absolute objectivity and Apollinic quietness, 
showing that the bard is always above the subject he 
treats. The strong construction of many of the 
poems reminds one of the architecture of a Dorian 
temple with its compactness, severe simplicity, 
dynamic quiet and clearness of line. 

As the present volume includes only the more 
characteristic pieces belonging to the Kossovo-cycle, 
it is essential briefly to outline the origin, as well as 
the symbolical significance of this cycle.^ 


No place in the Balkans has been so much sung as 
Kossovo or the Plain of Blackbirds ; " no other spot 
in Jugoslav territory has even nowadays such magic 
power over the mentality of the folk-masses as this 
plain. Every Serbian peasant speaks of it with that 
reverence with which one speaks only of holy places ; 
every Serbian poet, every folk-bard, and wandering 
blind beggar celebrates it in his songs ; every child is 
taught by his mother to see in it the symbol of 

1 Ballads belonging to the other cycles are to follow after this 
volume (in Miss H. Rootham's translation). 

2 The plain of Kossovo lies to the north-west of Skoplye (Uskub), 
beyond the mountain-pass Kachanik. Until 1913 it was still under 
Turkish rule. 


national martyrdom and resurrection. And the 
reason of such an attitude is the fact that on the 
field of Kossovo was fought (in 1389) that battle be- 
tween Serbs and Turks which enslaved the Serbian 
race for almost five hundred years. 

After the battle on the Maritsa (1371), in which 
the Serbian King Vukashin lost his life, the whole of 
Macedonia fell into Turkish power. But as the 
ambitious Sultan Murad cherished plans for a further 
extension of conquests towards the north and west, 
he decided to subject in the first instance the terri- 
tory governed by Tsar Lazar. He camped in fact 
with an enormous army on Kossovo where the battle 
between him and the Serbian ruler was to take place 
— a battle which decided the fate of Eastern Europe 
for centuries. 

Both armies, as well as both monarchs, v/ere in- 
spired by religious ideals — the Serbs fighting for 
Christianity, the Turks for Islam. The Serbian 
army was far out-numbered by the Turks, for the 
vassals and Christian allies of Lazar did not respond 
in time to his appeal ; none the less, the Serbs 
started (in the morning of June 28th) their attack 
with great dash. In the beginning the chances of 
victory were on their side, for the fanatical Turkish 
hosts gave way in many places. But in the critical 
moment Turkish reinforcements arrived, and the 
Serbians, with Tsar Lazar at their head, continued 
their fight without any hope of victory. The 
treachery with which Vuk Brankovich is charged in 
the folk-songs, is not an historically ascertained fact. 
On the other hand, his rivalry with Milosh is quite 


probable ; equally probable is the fact that Milosh 
had been slandered as a traitor in front of the king, 
and that he decided to kill the Sultan simply to prove 
to Tsar Lazar his loyalty. At any rate, it is certain 
that he went to the Turkish camp, penetrated into 
Murad's tent and stabbed him. It is even possible 
that this act precipitated the catastrophe as — at the 
demand of the mortally wounded Sultan — the general 
battle began too early and developed so quickly that 
the Serbian reinforcements could not reach the 
battlefield in time. Tsar Lazar fought with the 
bravery of desperation. But after his horse had 
been killed beneath him, he was beset by enemies, 
captured, and beheaded with the flower of the Serbian 
nobility in the tent of the dying Sultan. 

Bayazed, the son of Murad, describes in his firman 
to Suleiman-beg, the Kadhi of Brussa, the events on 
Kossovo, as follov/s : " When this my firman comes 
into your hands you should know that in accordance 
v/ith Allah's will there was a battle on the field of 
Kossovo. My father. Sultan Murad, whose life had 
been happy and whose death was that of a martyr, 
prayed to Allah, after a vision whilst sleeping, to 
make him worthy of martyrdom. The battle being 
ended, he returned unhurt and in his full health, from 
the battlefield to his tent, which was elevated to- 
wards the heavens.' And while we enjoyed the 
greatest pleasure in seeing how the cut heads of the 
Christian dukes rolled under the horses* hoofs, and 

1 Bayazed here conceals, for various reasons, the truth that his 
father was stabbed and mortally wounded before the general 
battle began. 


how many of them with tied hands and others with 
broken legs stood, there suddenly appeared a fighter, 
by name Milosh Obilich. He came perfidiously, 
saying that he accepted Islam, and asking that he 
might so be ranked in the victorious army. When 
after his own wish he was allowed to kiss the feet of 
the illustrious Sultan, he drew a poisonous hanjar 
hidden in his sleeve, and boldly thrust it into the 
body of the Sultan, sorely wounding him. Thus he 
caused the illustrious Sultan to drink the sherbet of 
martyrdom. After this deed Milosh tried to escape 
through the soldiers who shone like stars in the sky, 
but was caught by them and cut in pieces. ..." 


As is known the consequences of the battle on 
Kossovo were bad for a great part of Europe, and 
fatal for Serbia. The Turks gradually extended 
their dominion towards the north, flooding the 
Serbian territory with horrors and misery which 
lasted almost five centuries. Under their oppression, 
systematic massacres, and persecution the entire 
race seemed doomed to disappear ; and yet, by a 
miracle, as it were, the nation endured all the trials 
with a moral strength which deserves admiration. 

One of the chief parts in this miracle was played 
by the folk-songs. . . . For the suffering people 
converted its tears, its wounds, and its curses into 
beautiful ballads, conjuring the old heroes from 
death and reminding everybody of that unhappy plain 


which became the grave of Serbian liberty. Thus 
were originated the ballads of the Kossovo-cycle. 

The genius of the nation transmuted and symbol- 
ised the historical events according to its own 
mentality and conception. The defeat itself, for 
instance, was attributed, not to the actual inferiority: 
of the Serbian army, but, first of all, to the will ofi 
God, and then to the treachery of Vuk Brankovich. 
The ballad which relates how Tsar La^ar voluntarily 
chose the heavenly kingdom, shows that the national 
catastrophe on Kossovo received in the people's mind 
moral justification and religious significance. The 
reHgious (Christian) and patriotic motives were thus 
blended into one symbol, which found its full ex- 
pression in the folk-songs. . . . Through the folk- 
songs Kossovo itself became a great symbol and a 
national and religious Mekka for every true Serbian. 
The watchword, " To redeem Kossovo," became now 
an inner moral bond that kept together all the 
scattered parts of the race, transferring the aspirations 
towards liberty from one generation to another. 
All the heroes, who fell in the battle with Murad 
for the holy Cross and Liberty, thus lived again, for 
they were resurrected in songs which poured new 
force and new hopes into the hearts of the enslaved 

Moreover, not only the Kossovo-battle, but the 
whole heroic past of Serbia was rendered by the 
people into a poetry that fed their patriotic, political, 
and religious feelings. The songs kindled that fire 
which was slowly burning under the ashes of their 
crushed religion and lost liberty. This fire burst 


into flame in the peasant revolution against the Turks 
in 1804, the final result of which was the liberation 
of Serbia, leading a hundred years later to the libera- 
tion of the whole Jugoslav race. 

These ballads, in which the entire history of Serbia 
has been embodied, far from dying out, are still sung 
all over the country, playing a very important part 
in the Serbian national life. Among Serbian masses 
poetry is in general so closely connected with life 
that it is impossible to separate them : they sing 
while working, they sing when they are joyful, they 
sing when they suffer. 

A typical illustration as to what curious aspects 
this habit can assume, we may find in the follow- 
ing reminiscence of Mrs. E. Lawton-Mijatovich : — 
" During the winter of 1873-74, happening to be in 
Kragrjevatz during the meeting of the National 
Assembly, I had the opportunity of hearing a certain 
peasant, Anta Neshich, recite in blank verse to 
numerous audiences outside the Assembly Room the 
whole debate on the Bill for introducing the fresh 
monetary system into Serbia, concluding with the 
final acceptance of the Bill. The poet put the debate 
on the Budget into the same taking form, to the 
great delight of his many auditors. Anta Neshich, 
from Ripany, a village about fifteen miles from Bel- 
grade, was himself a member of the Assembly, and 
this fact, of course, did not make his recitations out- 
side the walls less interesting to his auditors. ..." 


In many parts of modern Serbia, you can hardly 
find a folk-gathering or festival without guslars 
(bards) singing to the crowds about the heroes of 
bygone times. Prince Milosh Obrenovich, who 
ruled from 1817-39, used to have folk-bards at his 
court, and according to the witness of a contemporary 
traveller (Pirch), the prince himself competed with 
them in reciting and gusle-playing. Most remarkable 
however is the fact that the creative source of this 
poetry is not yet exhausted among the Serbian 
peasants even in this, the twentieth century. There 
exists, for instance, a number of new folk-ballads on 
the heroic exploits and deeds of the last Balkan war 
(1912-13), and the recent terrible retreat of the 
Serbian army through Albania (1915) has been re- 
corded by the soldiers in a number of poems. 

In conclusion we can point to the interesting fact 
that the entire political mentality even of the modern 
Serbian peasant has been formed not by political 
and social struggles, as in other European countries, 
but chiefly by folk-poetry. . . . That is the reason 
why his fervent patriotism has such a romantic, noble, 
and almost religious character. How profound an 
influence this folk-poetry still exercises on the hearts 
of the simple and naive peasantry may be gathered 
from the following episode : — 

During the Balkan war of 1912-13, certain vic- 
torious Serbian units reached Kossovo, which until 
then was under Turkish rule. As soon as the 
soldiers felt under their feet the liberated plain, they 
fell on their knees, whispering prayers and kissing 
the sacred soil. And when they rose again, they 


instinctively marched over it softly, on tip-toe, in 
order not to disturb the sleep of the heroic dead v/ho, 
more than five hundred years before, had there given 
their lives for Cross and Liberty. . . . 

This episode alone tells more of the significance 
of the poetry, especially of the Kossovo-ballads, in 
the life of the Serbian race, than volumes of com- 




Propast Carstva Srpskoga 

. 24 

Car Lazar i Carica Milica 


Vecera u Krusevcu . . , . , 




Music Stevan 


Carica Milica i Vladeta Vojvoda . 




Smrt Majke Jugovica . . . , 


Obretenije Glave Knez Lazara 





The Fall of the Serbian Empire . . 25 

Tsar Lazar and Tsaritsa Militsa . . 33 

The Ban'quet on the Eve of the Battle : 

A Fragment ..... 47 


MusiTCH Stefan. ..... 59 

Tsaritsa Militsa and the Voyvoda Vladeta 71 

The Maiden of Kossovo .... 75 

The Death of the Mother of the Jugo- 

VITCH ....... 85 

The Miracle of Tsar Lazar ... 93 



PoLETio soko tica siva, 
Od svetinje, od Jerusalima, 
I on nosi ticu lastavicu. 

To ne bio soko tica siva, 
Vece bio svetitelj Ilija : 
On ne nosi tice lastavice, 
Vece knjigu od Bogorodice ; 
Odnese je caru na Kosovo, 
Spusti knjigu caru na koleno, 
Sama knjiga caru besedila : 
" Care Lazo, cestito koleno, 
Kome ces se privoleti carstvu ? 
Ili volis carstvu nebeskome ? 
Hi volis carstvu zemaljskome ? 
Ako volis carstvu zemaljskome, 
Sedlaj konje, pritezi kolane, 
Vitezovi, sablje pripasujte, 
Pa u Turke juris ucinite : 
Sva ce turska izginuti vojska ; 
Ako I'volis carstvu nebeskome, 
A ti sakroj na Kosovu crkvu, 
Ne vodi joj temelj od mermera, 
Vec od ciste svile i skerleta 
Pa prices ti i naredi vojsku ; 
Sva ce tvoja iziginuti vojska, 
Ti ces, knele, s njome poginuti." 


From Jerusalem, the holy city, 
Flying came a swift grey bird, a falcon. 
And he carried in his beak a swallow. 

But behold and see ! 'Tis not a falcon, 
'Tis the holy man of God, Elias, 
And he does not bear with him a swallow. 
But a letter from God's Holy Mother. 
Lo, he bears the letter to Kossovo, 
Drops it on the Tsar's knees from the heavens. 
And thus speaks the letter to the monarch : 
** Tsar Lazar, thou Prince of noble lineage. 
What wilt thou now choose to be thy kingdom ? 
Say, dost thou desire a heav'nly kingdom. 
Or dost thou prefer an earthly kingdom ? 
If thou should'st now choose an earthly kingdom, 
Knights may girdle swords and saddle horses. 
Tighten saddle-girths and ride to battle — 
You will charge the Turks and crush their army ! 
But if thou prefer a heav'nly kingdom. 
Build thyself a church upon Kossovo, 
Let not the foundations be of marble. 
Let them be of samite and of scarlet. . . . 
And to all thy warriors and their leaders 
Thou shalt give the sacraments and orders. 
For thine army shall most surely perish. 
And thou too, shalt perish with thine army." 


A kad care saslusao reci, 
Misli care misli svakojake : 
" Mill Boze, sto cu i kako cu ? 
Kome cu se privoleti carstvu ? 
Da ill cu carstvu nebeskome ? 
Da ili cu carstvu vernal jskome ? 
Ako cu se privoleti carstvu, 
Privoleti carstvu zemaljskome, 
Zemaljsko je za maleno carstvo, 
A nebesko uvek i do veka." 

Car volede carstvu nebeskome, 
A nego li carstvu zemaljskome. 
Pa sakroji na Kosovu crkvu. 
Ne vodi joj temelj od mermera, 
Vec od ciste svile i skerleta ; 
Pa doziva srpskog patrijara, 
I dvanaest velikih vladika, 
Te pricesti i naredi vojsku. 

Istom knele naredio vojsku, 
Na Kosovo udarise Turci. 
Mace vojsku Bogdan-Juze stari, 
S devet sina, devet Jugovica 
Kako devet sivih sokolova, 
U svakog je devet hiljad vojske, 
A u Juga dvanaest hiljada. 

Pa se bise i seko§e s Turci, 
Sedam pasa bise i ubise, 
Kad osmoga biti zapocese, 
Al pogibe Bogdan-Ju2e stari, 
T zgibe d?vet Jugovica, 


When the Tsar had read the holy letter, 
Ponder'd he, and ponder'd in this manner : 
" Mighty God, what now shall this my choice be ! 
Shall I choose to have a heav'nly kingdom ? 
Shall I choose to have an earthly kingdom ? 
If I now should choose an earthly kingdom, 
Lo, an earthly kingdom is but fleeting. 
But God's kingdom shall endure for ever." 

And the Tsar he chose a heav'nly kingdom. 
And he built a church upon Kossovo, — 
Did not bring foundation stones of marble 
But he brought pure samite there and scarlet ; 
Summon'd there the Patriarch of Serbia, 
Summon'd there with him the twelve archbishops. 
Thus he gave the warriors and their leaders 
Holy Sacrament and battle orders. 

But no sooner gave the Prince his orders 
Than the Turkish hordes swept on Kossovo. 
And the Jug Bogdan leads there his army. 
With his sons, the Jugovitch — nine brothers, 
His nine sons like nine grey keen-eyed falcons. 
Each of them commands nine thousand warriors, 
And the Jug Bogdan commands twelve thousand. 

With the Turks they fight there and they struggle, 
And they smite and slay there seven pashas. 
When the eighth advances to the battle 
Then doth Jug Bogdan, the old knight, perish, 
With his sons the Jugovitch — nine brothers, 


Kako devet sivih sokolova, 
I njihova sva izgibe vojska. 

Makos vojsku tri Mrnjavcevica, 
Ban Ugljesa i vojvoda Gojko 
I sa njima Vukasine kralje, — 
U svakoga triest hiljad, vojske ; 
Pa se bise i sekose s Turd : 
Osam pasa bi§e i ubise, 
Devetoga biti zapocese ; 
Pogibose dva Mrnjavcevica, 
Ban Uglijesa i vojvoda Gojko, 
Vukasin je grdnih rana dop' o, 
Njega Turci s konj'ma pregazise 
I njihova sva izgibe vojska. 

Mace vojsku Ercele Stepane, 
U Ercega mnoga silna vojska, 
Mnoga vojska, sezdeset hiljada 
Te se bise i sekose s Turci : 
Devet pasa bise i ubise, 
Desetoga biti zapocese, 
Al pogibe Ercele Stepane, 
I njihova sva izgibe vojska. 

Mace vojsku srpski kne? La2;are, 
U Laze je silni Srbalj bio, 
Sedamdeset i sedam hiljada ; 
Pa razgone po Kosovu Turke, 
Ne dadu se ni gledati Turkom, 
Da kamo li bojak biti s Turci : 
Tad' bi Laza nadvladao Turke, 


His nine sons like nine grey keen-eyed falcons, 
And v/ith them doth perish all their army. 

Moved their army three Mernyachevichi : 
Ban Uglyesha and Voyvoda Goiko, 
And the third, the mighty King Vukashin ; 
And with each were thirty thousand warriors. 
With the Turks do they there fight and struggle, 
And they smite and slay eight Turkish pashas. 
When the ninth advances to the battle 
Then there perish two Mernyachevichi, 
Ban Uglyesha and Voyvoda Goiko ; 
Many ugly wounds has King Vukashin, 
Turks and horses wade in blood above him. 
And with him doth perish all his army. 

Moved his army then Voyvoda Stefan ; 
And with him are many mighty warriors. 
Many mighty warriors — sixty thousand. 
With the Turks do they there fight and struggle, 
And they smite and slay nine Turkish pashas. 
When the tenth advances to the battle, 
There doth perish the Voyvoda Stefan, 
And with him doth perish all his army. 

Then advances Tsar Lazar the Glorious, 
With him moves a mighty host of Serbians, 
Seven and seventy thousand chosen warriors. 
They disperse the Turks upon Kossovo, 
No time had the Turks to look upon them. 
Still less time had they to stem the onslaught ; 
Tsar Lazar and all his mighty warriors 


Bog ubio Vuka Brankovica ! 
On izdade tasta na Kosovu ; 
Tada La^u nadvladase Turd, — 
I pogibe srpski knez Lazare, 
I njegova sva izgihe vojska, 
Sedamdeset i sedam hiljada. 

Sve je sveto i cestito bilo, 
I milome Bogu pristupacno. 


There had overwhelm'd the unbelievers, 

But — the curse of God be on the traitor. 

On Vuk Brankovitch, — he left his kinsman. 

He deserted him upon Kossovo : 

And the Turks o'erwhelmed Lazar the Glorious, 

And the Tsar fell on the field of battle ; 

And with him did perish all his army. 

Seven and seventy thousand chosen warriors. 

AU was done with honour, all was holy, 
God's will was fulfilled upon Kossovo. 


Car Lazare sjede za veceru, 
Pokraj njega carica Milica ; 
Veil njemu carica Milica : 
" Car Lazare, srpska kruno zlatna, 
Ti pola2;is sjutra u Kosovo, 
Sobom vodis sluge i vojvode, 
A kod dvora nikog ne ostavljas, 
Care Lazo, od muskijeh glava, 
Da ti mole knjigu odnijeti 
U Kosovo, i natrag vratiti ; 
Odvodis mi devet mile brace, 
Devet brace, devet Jugovica : 
Ostavi mi brata bar jednoga, 
Jednog brata sestri od zakletve." 

Njoj govori srpski knez Lazare : 
" Gospo moja, carice Milice, 
Koga bi ti brata najvoljela 
Da t* ostavim u bijelu dvoru ? " 
" Ostavi mi Boska Jugovica." 
Tada rece srpski knez Lazare : 
" Gospo moja, carice Milice, 
Kada sjutra bijel dan osvane, 
Dan osvane i ograne sunce, 
I vrata se otvore na gradu, 


Tsar Lazar sits at the evening banquet, 
With him sits the Tsaritsa MiHtsa ; 
Says to him the Tsaritsa MiHtsa : 
" Tsar Lazar, oh golden crown of Serbia, 
Thou wilt go to-morrow to Kossovo, 
And wilt lead the men-at-arms and nobles, 
But thou leavest no one in the castle 
Who for me could carry hence a message 
To Kossovo, and bring back your greeting. 
Thou dost lead away my nine dear brothers, 
Thou dost lead away nine Jugovitclii ; 
Leave me one at least of these my brothers. 
That I have a brother left to swear by." 

Then the Serbian prince Lazar makes answer : 

" Oh dear lady, Tsaritsa Militsa, 

Tell me thou then, which of thy nine brothers 

I shall leave with thee in thy white castle." 

" Leave me Boshko Jugovitch, oh monarch I " 

And the Serbian prince Lazar makes answer : 

" Oh dear lady, Tsaritsa Militsa, 

When the white day dawns again to-morrow. 

When the day dawns and the bright sun rises 

And the great gates of the city open. 

Walk then, lady, to the city portals ; 

3 33 


Ti isetaj gradu na kapiju ; 
Tud' ce pod vojska na alaje, 
Sve konjici pod bojnim kopljima, 
Pred njima je Bosko Jugovicu, 
I on nosi krstasa barjaka : 
Kali njemu od mene blagoslov 
Nek da barjak kome njemu drago 
Pa nek s tobom kod dvora ostane." 

Kad u jutru jutro osvanulo 
I gradska se otvorise vrata, 
Tad' iseta carica Milica ; 
Ona stade gradu kod kapije, 
Al eto ti vojske na alaje. 
Sve konjici pod bojnim kopljima, 
Pred njima je Bosko Jugovicu. 
Na alatu, vas u cistom zlatu : 
Krstas ga je barjak poklopio, 
Pobratime, do konja alata ; 
Na barjaku od zlata jabuka, 
I? jabuke od zlata krstovi, 
Od krstova zlatne kite vise, 
Te kuckaju Boska po plecirna. 
Primace se carica Milica, 
Pa uhvati za uzdu alata, 
Ruke sklopi bratu oko vrata, 
Pak mu poce tiho govoriti ; 
" Oj, moj brate, Bosko Jugovicu ! 
Car je tebe meni poklonio. 
Da ne ides na boj na Kosovo, 
I tebe je blagoslov kazao — 
Da das barjak kome tebe drago. 


That way goes the army in its splendour, — 
All the battle-horses with their lancers. 
Boshko Jugovitch will ride before them. 
In his hand will bear the battle-standard ; 
Say then to thy brother with my blessing, 
He shall give to whom he will the standard. 
And then stay with thee in thy white castle," 

When the dawn has broken on the morrow, 
And the great gates of the city open, 
Then walks out the Tsaritsa Militsa ; 
She stands there beside the city portals 
And beholds the army in its splendour : 
All the battle-horses with their lancers, 
Boshko Jugovitch before them riding. 
Of the finest cloth-of-gold his garments, 
And the standard with a cross emblazon'd. 
Oh my brothers, falls in folds around him. 
Covers him and rests upon his charger. 
On the standard, lo, a golden apple. 
From the apple rise the golden crosses. 
From the crosses hang long golden tassels 
And the tassels droop upon his shoulders. 
Closer comes the Tsaritsa Militsa, 
Catches' at the war-horse by its bridle. 
Puts her arm around her brother's shoulder 
And begins to whisper to him softly : 
" Boshko Jugovitch, oh thou my brother. 
Now to me the Tsar Lazar doth give thee. 
And thou shalt not ride with him to battle, 
Shalt not ride with him unto Kossovo ; 
And he bids me tell thee with his blessing 


Da ostanes sa mnom u Kru§evcu, 
Da imadem brata od zakletve." 
Al govori Bosko Jugovicu : 
" Idi, sestro, na bijelu kulu ! 
A ja ti se ne bih povratio, 
Ni iz ruke krstas barjak dao. 
Da mi care pokloni Krusevac ; 
Da mi rece dru^ina ostala : 
Gle strasivca, Boska Jugovica ! 
On ne smede poci u Kosovo, 
Za krst casni krvcu proljevati 
I za svoji vjeru umrijeti." 
Pak protera konja na kapiju. 

Al eto ti starog Jug-Bogdana 
I za njime sedam Jugovica ; 
Sve je sedam ustavljala redom 
Al ni jedan ni gledati ne ce. 
Malo vreme za tim postajalo, 
Al eto ti Jugovic-Voina, 
I on vodi careve jedeke 
Pokrivene sa suvijem zlatom : 
Ona pod njim uhvati kulasa, 
I sklopi mu ruke oko vrata. 
Pa i njemu stade govoriti : 
" Oj moj brate, Jugovic-Voine ! 
Car je tebe meni poklonio, 
I tebe je blagoslov kazao 
Da da§ jedek' kome tebe drago. 
Da ostane§ sa mnom u Krusevcu, 
Da imadem brata od zakletve." 
Veli njojzi Jugovic-Voine : 


Thou shalt give to whom thou wilt the standard 
And remain with me here in Kroushevatz, 
That I have a brother left to swear by." 
Boshko Jugovitch then makes her answer : 
" Go Militsa, to thy fair white tower. 
For I may not stay with thee, my sister. 
Nor let from my hand the battle-standard 
That the Tsar gave to me at Kroushevatz ; 
For I will not that my comrades mock me : 
See the coward ! See the coward Boshko ! 
He who rode not with Lazar to battle. 
Dared not ride with him unto Kossovo, 
There to shed his blood for Christ his honour. 
For the Holy Cross to fight and perish." 
And he spurred his charger through the gateway. 

Came the Jug Bogdan her father, riding, 
And with him rode seven Jugovitchi, 
But not one of them did look upon her. .... 
And when they had passed out through the gateway 
Far behind there came her brother Vo'in 
Leading with him Tsar Lazar's great chargers 
Covered with their shining golden trappings. 
She holds Voin's grey horse by its bridle. 
Puts her arm around her brother's shoulder. 
Holds him thus, and whispers to him softly : 
" Voin Jugovitch, oh thou my brother. 
Now to me the Tsar La2;ar doth give thee. 
And he bids me tell thee with his blessing 
Thou shalt give to whom thou wilt his chargers, 
And remain v/ith me here in Kroushevatz; 
That I have a brother left to swear by." 


" Idi, sestro, na bijelu kulu ! 
Ne bih ti se junak povratio, 
Ni careve jedeke pustio, 
Da bih znao da bih poginuo ; 
Idem, sejo, u Kosovo ravno 
Za krst casni krvcu proljevati 
I za vjeru s bracom umrijeti." 
Pak protera konja na kapiju. 

Kad to vidje carica Milica 
Ona pade na kamen studeni, 
Ona pade, pak se obeznani. 
Al eto ti slavnoga Lazara ! 
Kada vidje gospodju Milieu, 
Ud'rise mu suze niz obraze ; 
On s* obzire s desna na lijevo, 
Te dozivlje slugu Golubana : 
" Golubane, moja vjerna slugo, 
Ti odjasi od konja labuda, 
Uzmi gospu na bijele ruke, 
Pak je nosi na tananu kulu ; 
Od mene ti Bogom prosto bilo : 
Nemoj ici na boj na Kosovo, 
Vec ostani u bijelu dvoru." 
Kad to zacu sluga Golubane, 
Proli suze niz bijelo lice, 
Pa odsjede od konja labuda, 
Uze gospu na bijele ruke, 
Odnese je na tananu kulu ; 
Al svom srcu odoljet' ne moze 
Da ne ide na boj na Kosovo, — 


Voin Jugovitch then makes her answer : 

" Go Militsa, to thy fair white tov»rer, 

I a hero, may not leave my comrades. 

Nor give up the Tsar's steeds to another. 

Even knowing that I die in battle. 

I go nov/, oh sister, to Kossovo, 

There to shed my blood for Christ his honour, 

For the faith to die there with my brothers." 

And he spurred his charger through the gateway. 

Seeing this, the Tsaritsa Militsa 

Falls down lifeless on the cold hard roadway ; 

And behold, the Tsar himself comes riding. 

When he sees the Tsaritsa Militsa 

Down the Tsar's face are the fast tears falling, 

He looks to his right hand and his left hand, 

Calls to him then Goluban, his servant : 

" Goluban, oh thou my faithful servant. 

Now dismount thee from thy swan-white charger. 

By her fair white hands lift up my lady, 

Carry her unto the slender tower ; 

From thine oath to me hath God now loosed thee. 

Thou shalt not ride with me to Kossovo, 

But shalt stay behind here, in the castle." 

When the servant Goluban has heard this, 

Down his white face are the fast tears falling, 

He obeys, and stays his swan-white charger. 

By her fair white hands lifts up his lady. 

Brings her then unto the slender tov/er ; 

But his heart cannot endure the order 

That he rides not with his lord to battle. 


Vec se vrati do konja labuda, 
Posjede ga, ode u Kosovo. 

Kad je sjutra jutro osvanulo 

Doletese dva vrana gavrana 

Od Kosova polja sirokoga, 

I padose na bijelu kulu, 

Bas na kulu slavnoga Lazara ; 

Jedan grakce, drugi progovara : 

" Da I'je kula slavnog knez-Lazara ? 

ir u kuli nigdje nikog nema ? " 

To iz kule nitko ne cujase, 

Vec to cula carica Milica, 

Pa izlazi pred bijelu kulu, 

Ona pita dva vrana gavrana : 

" Oj, Boga vam, dva vrana gavrana, 

Otkuda ste jutros poleteli ? 

Nijeste li od polja Kosova ? 

Vidjeste li dvije silne vojske ? 

Jesu li se vojske udarile ? 

Cija li je vojska zadobila ? " 

Al govore dva vrana gavrana t 

" Oj, Boga nam, carice Milice, 

Mi smo jutros od Kosova ravna, 

Vidjeli smo dvije silne vojske ; 

Vojske su se juce udarile, 

Obadva su cara poginula, 

Od Turaka nesto i ostalo, 

A od Srba sto je i ostalo, 

Sve ranjeno i iskrvavljeno." 

Istom oni tako besjedjahu, 
Al eto ti sluge Milutina, 


And he goes back to his swan-white charger, 
Mounts him, and rides swiftly to Kossovo. 

On the morrow when the dawn has broken. 

Flying, come two ravens, two black ravens. 

Flying from the wide plain of Kossovo ; 

They alight upon the slender tower. 

On the tower of Lazar the Glorious ; 

Croaks the first, begins to speak the second : 

" Is this Tsar Lazar's white slender tower. 

In this tower is there none that liveth ? " 

In the tower nobody has heard them. 

Saving only Tsaritsa Militsa ; 

She comes down from her white slender tower. 

And she asks the ravens, two black ravens : 

" God be with you, oh you two black ravens. 

Whence do you come flying here this morning ? 

Tell me, have you seen two mighty armies ? 

Do these mighty armies fight together ? 

Which of these two armies doth now conquer ? " 

Answer her the ravens, two black ravens : 

" God be with you, Tsaritsa Militsa, 

We come from the wide plain of Kossovo, 

On the plain we saw two mighty armies. 

Yesterday the armies fought together, 

And both monarchs perished in the fighting. 

Of the Turkish hordes a few are living, 

And a few are living of the Serbians, 

Living, but sore wounded all, and bleeding." 

As the two black ravens thus were speaking, 
Lo, came riding Milutin the servant, 


Nosi desnu, u lijevoj ruci, 
Na njemu je rana sedamnaest, 
Vas mu konjic u krv ogreznuo ; 
Veil njemu gaspodja Milica : 
" Sto je bolan ! slugo Milutine ? 
Zar izdade cara na Kosovu ? " 
Al govori sluga Milutine : 
" Skin' me, gospo, sa konja viteza, 
Umij mene studenom vodicom, 
I zalij me crvenijem vinom ; 
Teske su me rane osvojile." 
Skide njega gospodja Milica, 
I umi ga studenom vodicom, 
I zali ga crvenijem vinom. 
Kad se sluga malo povratio. 
Pita njega gospodja Milica : 
" Sto bi, slugo u polju Kosovu ? 
Gdje pogibe slavni kneze Lazo ? 
Gdje pogibe stari Jug Bogdane ? 
Gdje pogibe devet Jugovica ? 
Gdje pogibe Milos vojevoda ? 
Gdje pogibe Vuce Brankovicu ? 
Gdje pogibe Banovic Strahinja ? " 

Tada sluga poce kazivati : 
" Svi ostase, gospo, u Kosovu. 
Gdje pogibe slavni knez Lazare, 
Tu su mnoga koplja izlomljena, 
Izlomljena i turska i srpska, 
Ali vise srpska, nego turska, 
Branec', gospo svoga gospodara, 
Gospodara, slavnog knez-Lazara. 


In his left hand, see, he bears his right hand. 

He has countless wounds upon his body. 

And his horse is bathed in blood beneath him. 

Questions him the Tsaritsa Militsa : 

" Milutin, what evil thing hath happened ? 

Hast thou left thy lord upon Kossovo ? " 

Milutin the servant makes her answer : 

** Help me to dismount, I beg thee, lady. 

Bathe me also with the cooling water. 

And with red wine let my lips be moisten'd, 

For my wounds have nearly overcome me." 

Then the Tsaritsa Militsa helps him. 

Bathes his cruel wounds with cooling water, 

And his lips with good red wine she moistens. 

When the servant's heart revives within him 

Questions him the Tsaritsa Militsa : 

" Milutin, how went it on Kossovo ? 

Where Lazar, the Prince of Serbia, perished. 

Where the Jug Bogdan, my father, perished. 

And where perished his nine sons, my brothers ; 

Where the brave Voyvoda Milosh perished. 

Where Vuk Brankovitch with them has perished, 

And where perished mighty Ban Strahinya." 

Milutin the servant tells his story : 
" All remain, oh lady, on Kossovo, 
Where has fallen Tsar Lazar the Glorious. 
There are broken many battle-lances, 
Serbian lance and Turkish, both are broken. 
But more Serbian lances broke than Turkish 
While defending Tsar Lazar, oh lady. 
Glorious Tsar Lazar, the lord of Serbia. 


A Jug ti je, gospo, poginuo 
U pocetku, u boju prvome. 
Pogibe ti osam Jugovica, 
Gdje brat brata izdati ne htede, 
Doklegodje jedan secijase ; 
Jos ostade Bosko Jugovicu, 
Krstas mu se po Kosovu vija, — 
Jos razgoni Turke na buljuke, 
Kao soko tice golubove. 
Gdje ogreznu krvca do koljena, 
Tu pogibe Banovic Strahinja. 
Milos ti je, gospo, poginuo, 
Kod Sitnice kod vode studene, 
Gdjeno mnogi Turci izginuli ; 
Milos zgubi turskog car-Murata, 
I Turaka dvanaest hiljada ; 
Bog da prosti, ko ga je rodio ? 
On ostavi spomen rodu srpskom. 
Da se prica i pripovijeda 
Dok je Ijudi i dok je Kosova. 
A sto pitas za prokletog Vuka, 
Proklet bio i ko ga rodio, 
Prokleto mu pleme i koljeno ! 
On izdade cara na Kosovu 
I odvede dvanaest hiljada, 
Gospo moja, Ijutih oklopnika." 


And the Jug Bogdan has fallen also. 
And with him eight Jugovitchi, lady ; 
There where no man would desert his brothers 
Whilst a single one could move his weapon, 
Boshko Jugovitch still fought, oh lady ; 
Raged the battle round him on Kossovo 
And he threw the Turks into disorder 
As the falcon strikes the homing pigeons. 
And there perished mighty Ban Strahinya, 
There too, perished Milosh, oh dear lady. 
By Sitnitsa, by the chilly water, 
There where very many Turks have fallen. 
Milosh slew the Turkish Sultan, Murad, 
And he also slew of Turks twelve thousand. 
May God bless the woman who has borne him ! 
He left glory to the name of Serbia 
While there lives a story and a teller. 
While there lives a people and Kossovo. 
And what of th' accursed Vuk, you ask me ! 
Cursed he, and cursed she who bore him. 
Cursed his race unto all generations ! 
He betrayed the Tsar upon Kossovo, 
Led away with him twelve thousand warriors. 
Mighty men-at-arms, oh my dear mistress." 


Slavu slavi srpski knez Lazare 

U Krusevcu mestu skrovitome ; 

Svu gospodu 2a sofru sjedao, 

Svu gospodu i gospodicice : 

S desne strane starog Jug-Bogdana 

I do njega devet Jugovica ; 

A s lijeve Vuka Brankovica, 

lostalu svu gospodu redom ; 

U zastavu vojvodu Milosa, 

I do njega dv'je srpske vojvode : 

Jedno mi je Kosancic Ivane, 

A drugo je Toplica Milane. 

Car uzima zlatan pehar vina 
Pa govori svoj gospodi srpskoj : 
" Kome c' ovu casu nazdraviti ? 
Ako cu je napit po starjestvu, 
Napicu je starom Jug-Bogdanu ; 
Ako cu je napit po gospodstvu, 
Napicu je Vuku Brankovicu ; 
Ako cu je napit, po milosti, 
Napicu je mojim devet sura — 
Devet sura devet Jugovida ; 
Ako cu je napit, po Ijepoti, 
Napicu je Kosancic- Ivanu ; 


(a fragment) 

Prince Lazar his patron saint doth honour 
On the fair and pleasant field Kossovo, 
With his lords is seated round the table 
With his lords and with his youthful nobles. 

On his left the Jug Bogdan is seated, 
And with him nine Jugovitch, nine brothers ; 
On his right Vuk Brankovitch is seated, 
And the other lords in their due order ; 
Facing him is Milosh, that great warrior, 
And v/ith him two other Serbian leaders 
Kossanchich, and young Toplitza Milan. 

Tsar Lazar lifts high the golden goblet. 

Thus he speaks unto his Serbian nobles : 

" Unto whom shall this my cup be emptied ? 

If it be old age that I should honour 

Then, oh Jug Bogdan, I must now pledge you ; 

If it be high rank that I should honour 

Then Vuk Brankovitch, I must now pledge you ; 

If the voice of feeling I should follow 

To the Tsaritsa's nine well-lov'd brothers 



Ako cu je napit po visini, 
Napicu je Toplici Milanu ; 
Ako cu je napit' po junastvu, 
Napicu je vojvodi Milosu. 
Ta nikom je drugom napit* necu, 
Vec u zdravlje Milos-Obilica : 
Zdrav, Milosu, vjero i nevjero ! 
Prva vjero, potonja nevjero ! 
Sutra ces me izdat' na Kosovu, 
I odbjeci turskom car-Muratu ; 
Zdrav mi budi, i ^dravicu popij : 
Vino popij, a na cast ti pehar ! " 

Skoci Milo§ na noge lagane, 
Pak se klanja do zemljice erne : 
" Hvala tebe, slavni knez-Lazare, 
Hvala tebe na tvojo zdravici, 
Na zdravici i na daru tvome ; 
Ar ne hvala na takoj besjedi ; 
Jer, tako me vjera ne ubila ! 
Ja nevjeran nikad bio nisam. 
Nit* sam bio, niti cu kad biti, 
Nego sjutra mislim u Kosovu 
Za hriScansku vjeru poginuti ; 
Nevjera ti sjedi uz koljeno, 
Ispod skuta pije ladno vino : 
A prokleti Vuce Brankovidu. 
Sjutra jeste lijep Vidov danak, 
Vidjedemo u polju Kosovu, 
Ko je vjera, ko li je nevjera. 
A tako mi Boga velikoga ! 
Ja cu oti6 sjutra u Kosovo, 


To the Jugovitch, my toast is owing ; 

If it beauty be that I should honour 

Ivan Kossanchitch, I must now pledge you ; 

If heroic looks I now should honour 

Then Toplitza Milan, I must pledge you ; 

If heroic deeds are to be toasted 

I must drink to that great warrior Milosh, 

I can surely pledge no other hero, 

Milosh Obilitch, I drink to thee now, 

To thy health, oh Milosh, friend and traitor ! 

Friend at first, but at the last a traitor. 

When the battle rages fierce to-morrow 

Thou wilt then betray me on Kossovo, 

And wilt join the Turkish Sultan, Murad ! 

Drink with me, and pledge me deep, oh Milosh, 

Drain the cup ; I give it thee in token ! " 

To his feet leaps Milosh, that great warrior. 
To the black earth bows himself, and answers : 
" Tsar La^ar, for this thy toast I thank thee, 
Thank thee for the toast and for the goblet. 
But for those thy words I do not thank thee. 
For — else may the truth be my undoing — 
Never, Tsar Lazar, was I unfaithful. 
Never have I been, and never will be. 
And to-morrow I go to Kossovo 
For the Christian faith to fight and perish. 
At thy very knees there sits the traitor. 
Covered by thy robes he drains the wine-cup, 
'Tis Vuk Brankovitch, th' accursed traitor ! 
And when dawns the pleasant day to-morrow 
We shall see upon the field, Kossovo, 



I zaklacu turskog car-Murata, 
I stacu mu nogom pod gr'oce ; 
Ako li mi Bog i sreca dade 
Te se zdravo u Krusevac vratim, 
Uhvaticu Vuka Brankovica, 
Vezacu ga U2 to bojno koplje, 
Kao lena kudelj' u^ preslicu, 
Nosicu ga u polje Kosovo." 


Who to thee is faithful, and who faithless. 
And I call Almighty God to witness 
I will go to-morrow to Kossovo, 
I will slay the Turkish Sultan, Murad, 
And I'll plant my foot upon his false throat ; 
And if God and fortune so befriend me, 
I will take Vuk Brankovitch then captive. 
Bind him to my battle-lance ! Yea, tie him 
As a woman ties hemp to her distaff. 
And I'll drag him with me to Kossovo." 


" PoBRATiME, Kosancic Ivane, 
Jesi I'tursku uhodio vojsku ? 
Je li mnogo vojske u Turaka ? 
Mozemo li s Turci bojak biti ? 
Mozemo li Turke pridobiti ? " 

Veli njemu Kosancic Ivane : 
" O, moj brate, Milos Obilicu ! 
Ja sam tursku vojsku uhodio, — 
Jeste silna vojska u Turaka ; 
Svi mi da se u so prometnemo, 
Ne bi Turkom rucka osolili 
Evo puno petnaest danaka 
Ja sve hodah po turskoj ordiji 
I ne nadjoh kraja ni hesapa : 
Od Mramora do Suva Javora, 
Od Javora, pobro, do Sazlije, 
Do Sazlije na Cemer cuprije, 
Od cuprije do grada Zvecana, 
Od Zvecana, pobro, do Cecana, 
Od Cecana vrhu do planine, — 
Sve je Turska vojska pritisnula : 
Konj do konja, junak do junaka, 
Bojna koplja kao carna gora, 
Sve barjaci kao i oblaci, 



(a fragment) 

MiLOSH speaks to Kossanchitch his brother : 
" Ivan Kossanchitch, oh thou dear brother, 
Hast thou spied upon the Turkish army, 
Seen how many warriors came from Turkey ? 
Can we offer battle to the army ? 
Can we hope to vanquish it in battie ? " 

Ivan Kossanchitch thus speaks in answer : 
" Milosh Obihtch, oh thou my brother, 
I have spied upon the Turkish army 
And a mighty army came from Turkey. 
Were we grains of salt instead of warriors 
Yet we could not salt that army's dinner. 
Fifteen days through Murad's hordes I wandered 
But I could not find an end or limit. 
From Mramor right up to Suvi Javor, 
And from Javor right up to Sa2;liya, 
From Sazliya to the bridge of Chemer 
And from Chemer to the fortress Zvechan, 
And from Zvechan right away to Chechan, 
And from Chechan up above the mountains 
Stand the Turks in serried ranks together ; 
Horse to horse, and hero touching hero, 



A cadori kao i snjegovi ; 
Da iz neba plaha kisa padne, 
Nidje ne hi na zemljicu pala, 
Vec na dobre konje i junake. 
Murat pao na Ma2;git na polje, 
Uhvatio i Lab i Sitnicu." 

Jos ga pita Milos Obilicu : 

" Ja Ivane, mio pobratime, 

Gdje je cador silnog car-Murata ? 

Ja sam ti se knezu zatekao. 

Da zakoljem Turskog car-Murata 

Da mu stanem nogom pod gr'oce." 

Al govori Kosancic Ivane : 

" Da lud ti si, mio pobratime ! 

Gdje je cador silna car-Murata, 

Usred turskog silna taobora — 

Da ti imaS krila sokolova, 

Pak da padnes iz neba vedroga, 

Perje mesa ne bi iznijelo." 

Tada Milos zaklinje Ivana : 
" O, Ivane, da moj mili brate, 
Nerodjeni, kao i rodjeni, 
Nemoj tako knezu kazivati, 
Jer ce nam se kneze zabrinuti, 
I eva ce se vojska poplaSiti ; 
Vec ovako nasem knezu kazi : 
Ima dosta vojske u Turaka, 
Al s* mozemo s njima udariti, 
I lasno ih pridobit' mogemo ; 


Battle-lances like a magic mountain. 
Like a cloud their battle-standards streaming 
And their tents stretched like the snow in winter. 
If the gentle rain should fall from heaven 
Not one inch of ground could then receive it. 
So thick stand the horses and the heroes. 
Murad fell upon the plain of Ma2;git, 
Took by quick assault Lab and Sitnitsa." 

Then speaks Milosh Obihtch in answer : 

" Ivan Kossanchitch, oh thou my brother. 

Where has Sultan Murad pitched his tent there ? 

I have sworn to slay the Sultan Murad 

And I'll plant my foot upon his false throat." 

Ivan Kossanchitch thus answers Milosh : 

" Thou art surely mad, oh thou my brother ! 

There where thickest press the Turkish warriors 

Stands the tent of mighty Sultan Murad. 

If thou hadst the swift wings of the falcon 

And couldst swoop from out the clear blue heavens 

Still thy swift wings could not save thy body." 

Then to Ivan swears the hero Milosh : 
" Ivan Kossanchitch, oh thou dear brother. 
Not by birth, and yet hke my own brother, 
Do not tell this story to our monarch. 
It would but disquiet and alarm him 
And then all the army might be frightened. 
Speak unto our monarch in this manner : — 
There has come an army out of Turkey 
Big enough that we should give it battle, 


Jera nije vojska od mejdana, 
Vec sve stare hodje i hadjije, 
Zanatlije i mlade cardjije, 
Koji boja ni vidjeli nisu ; 
Is torn posli da se hljebom hrane ; 
A i sto je vojske u Turaka, 
Vojska im se jeste poboljela, 
Od boles ti teske srdobolje, 
A dobri se konji poboljeli 
Od bolesti konjske sakagije." 


But it will be light for us to conquer. 

It is not an army made of heroes. 

But old monks and pilgrims dressed as warriors. 

Artisans are there, and slim young merchants. 

Those who never yet have seen a battie, 

But who for their bread have joined the army. 

Say too — but whatever si^e the army 

It has fallen very sick and ailing. 

And the horses too all greatly suffer, 

Some are lame, and none are in condition." 


Vino pije Musicu Stevane 

U Majdanu cisto srebrnome, 

U svom krasnom dvoru gospodskome j 

Vino sluli Vaistina sluga. 

Kad se hladna podnapise vina, 
Al besedi Musicu Stevane : 
" Vaistino, moje cedo drago, 
Ja cu led sanak boraviti, 
Ti veceraj, pa se napij vina. 
Pa posetaj pred gospodskog dvora, 
Pa pogledaj cistom vedrom nebu : 
Je li jasan mesec na zahodu ? 
Je r Danica na istoku zvezda ? 
Je li nama putovati vreme 
Na Kosovo lepo polje ravno, 
Na rociste cestitome knezu ? 
Jer znades li, moje cedo drago, 
Kad ono smo na zakletvi bili, 
Kako nas je zaklinjao kneze, 
Zaklinjao, proklinjao Ijuto : 
* Ko je Srbin i srpskoga roda, 
I od srpske krvi i kolena, 
A ne pos ' o na boj na Kosovo, 
Ne imao od srca poroda, 



MusiTCH Stefan drinks wine in his castle, 
Drinks wine there in Maydan, rich with silver, 
And the servant Vayistina serves him. 

When of cool wine he has drunk sufficient 
Thus speaks Musitch Stefan to his servant : 
" Hearken, oh my dear friend Vayistina, 
Thou shalt sup, and empty now a wine-flask. 
Then go out and walk before the castle. 
Look above thee at the clear blue heavens. 
If the moon is high above the sunset 
And Danitsa ' in the east has risen, 
Then the hour has come for us to journey 
To the fair and pleasant field, Kossovo, 
To our noble prince's place of meeting. 
For my dear friend, as thou surely knowest. 
When we took our oath the prince besought us, 
He besought us, by our oath exhorting : — 
* Whoso is a Serb, from Serbian mother. 
Who has Serbian blood and Serbian lineage. 
And comes not to battle, to Kossovo, 
May there never to his heart be granted 
Children, neither yet a maid nor man-child. 
Underneath his hands shall nothing prosper, 

' Damtsa=the Morning Star. 


Ni muskoga ni devojackoga ; 
Od ruke mu nista ne rodilo, 
Rujno vino ni §enica bela ; 
Rdjom kap' o dok mu je kolena ! * " 

Leie Stevan u meke duseke, 
Povecera Vaistina sluga, 
Povecera i napi se vina. 
Pa iseta pred gospodskog dvora, 
I pogleda cistom, vedrom nebu ; 
Jeste jasan mesec na zahodu. 
Jest Danica na istoku zvezda, 
Jeste njima putovati vreme 
Na Kosovo, lepo polje ravno, 
Na rociste cestitome kne^u ; 

Pa se sece konjma u ahare. 
Pa izvede dva konja viteza, 
Osedla ih i opravi lepo, 
Jednog sebi, drugog gospodaru ; 
Pa se sece u gospodske dvore, 
I iznese krstat svilen barjak, 
Na kome je dvanaest krstova, 
Svih dvanaest od cistoga zlata, 
I ikona svetoga Jovana, 
Krsno ime Musica Stevana ; 
Prisloni ga uz gospodskog dvora. 
Pa se sece gore na cardalce, 
Da probudi gospodara svoga. 

Kad je bio cardaku na vrati, 
Kob ga kobi Stevanova Ijuba, 
Zagrli ga, pa ga i poljubi : 


Neither vine-yards nor the silver wheat fields. 

And from him shall misery be oozing 

Till his name and race die out and perish.' " 

Stefan lies upon his soft down pillows ; 

Sups his faithful servant Vayistina 

Sups and drinks cool wine beside his master ; 

After supper walks before the castle. 

Looks above him at the clear blue heavens. 

Lo, the moon shines high above the sunset, 

Lo, Danitsa in the East has risen. 

And the hour has come when they must journey 

To the fair and pleasant field, Kossovo, 

To the noble prince's place of meeting. 

Vayistina goes into the stables. 

Brings therefrom two noble battle-horses, 

Saddles them, and decks them with rich trappings. 

One for him, and one for his good master. 

Then he leads them to the castle courtyard. 

Carries forth the silken battle-standard 

On which shine and glow twelve golden crosses. 

And the ikon of Saint John th' Apostle, 

John the patron saint of Musitch Stefan ; 

In the courtyard then he leaves the standard 

And he mounts the stairway of the tower. 

Fate here brings him Musitch Stefan's lov'd one. 
She embraces him and tells him weeping : 
" Oh my friend and brother, Vayistina, 
By Almighty God and John th' Apostle, 
Thou wert until now my faithful servant ; 


" Bogom brate, Vaistino slugo, 
Visnjim Bogom i svetim Jovanom ! 
Do sad si mi verna sluga bio, — 
Od jako si Bogom pobratime, 
Nemoj budit' gospodara moga, 
Jer sam, jadna, zao sanak vid'la, 
Gde poleti, jato golubova, 
I pred njima dva sokola siva, 
Ispred naseg dvora gospodskoga ; 
Odletise na Kosovo ravno, 
I padose medj ' Muratov tabor, 
Gde padose vec se ne digose ; 
To je, bra CO, vase znamenije, 
Bojati se da ne izginete." 

Al besedi Vaistina sluga : 
" Draga seko, Stevanova Ijubo ! 
Necu seko, nevere ciniti 
Gospodaru i mome i tvome ; 
Jer ti nisi na zakletvi bila, 
Kako nas je zaklinjao knele, 
Zaklinjao, proklinjao Ijuto : 
' Ko je Srbin i srpskoga roda, 
I od srpske krvi i kolena, 
A ne dos *o na boj na Kosovo, 
Od ruke mu niSta ne rodilo, 
Rujno vino, ni senica bela ; 
Ne imao poljskog bericeta, 
Ni u domu od srca poroda, 
Rdjom kap'o dok mu je kolena ! ' 
Pa ja ne smem nevere ciniti 
Gospodaru i mome i tvome." 


If from now thou art in God my brother 

Never wake my well-lov'd lord and master ; 

For I, most unhappy one, whilst dreaming. 

Saw a flight of pigeons high above me. 

And near-by beheld I two grey falcons 

Soaring far above our lordly castle, 

And they flew away unto Kossovo 

Till they reached the camp of Sultan Murad — 

There they fell, and rose no more for ever. .... 

That, oh brother, is an evil omen 

And I fear you both will surely perish." 

But the servant Vayistina answered : 
" Oh dear sister, thou belov'd of Stefan, 
Never, sister, will I be unfaithful 
To thy lord, my honourable master. 
For thou hast not been at our oath-taking 
When the noble prince has there besought us. 
Has besought us, by our oath exhorting : — 
' Whoso is a Serb, from Serbian mother. 
Who has Serbian blood and Serbian lineage 
And comes not to battle, to Kossovo, 
Underneath his hands shall nothing prosper. 
Neither vineyards nor the silver wheat-fields ; — 
Barren shall his fields remain for ever ! 
To his heart no children shall be granted. 
And from him shall misery be oozing 
Till his name and race die out and perish.' 
Therefore never will I be unfaithful 
To thy lord and mine, oh noble lady." 

To the upper rooms mounts Vayistina 
And awakens there his sleeping master : 


Vec u§eta u cardake gornje 

Pa probudi gospodara svoga : 

" Ustanite, dragi gospodaru, 

Jeste nama putovati vreme." 

Usta Steva na noge junacke, 

I umiva svoje lice belo, 

I oblaci gospodsko odelo. 

Pa pripasa sabliju okovanu, 

Pa uzima kondir vina rujna, 

Ta napija krasnu slavu Bozju, 

Sretna puta i krsta casnoga, 

U svom dvoru za stolom svojijem — 

Vojvodi je to i pre i posle. 

Pa iseta pred gospodske dvore, 
UsedoSe dva konja viteza, 
Ra2;avise krstate barjake, 
Udarise bubnji i svirale, 
Digose se Bogom putovati. 

Bela ih je zora zabelila 

Na Kosovu, krasnom polju ravnom. 

Susrete i Kosovka devojka : 

U ruku joj dva kondira zlatna, 

Oba zlatna, al obadva prazna, 

Pod pazuhom klobuk svile bele, 

Za klobukom bela kita perja, 

U diiu perje srebrom zaliveno, 

A po sredi zlatom prepleteno. 

I po vrhu biserom kiceno ; 

Al besedi Musidu Stevane : 

" Bozja pomoc, moja seko draga. 


* Waken now and rise, beloved master, 
Por the hour has come when we must journey." 
To his feet then springs the hero Stefan, 
Washes his white face with cooling water. 
Dons a lordly dress, and girds around him 
His good sword, with jewels thick encrusted. 
In his hands he takes a brimming goblet. 
And he drinks to God's great fame and glory. 
To the Cross's honour and his journey. 
In the castle court behind the stables 
Thus drank Musitch Stefan, the voyvoda. 
As befits a knight of noble valour. 

Then they went before the lordly castle 
And they mounted their two noble horses. 
Lifted up the cross-emblazon 'd standards. 
And while drums and pipes were sounding loudly 
In the name of God began their journey. 

When the dawn has risen white upon them 
On the wide and level plain, Kossovo, 
They encounter there a slender maiden. 
In her hands two shining golden goblets. 
Both of gold, but both of them are empty ; 
'Neath her arm a white silk cap she carries. 
On the cap is fixed a bunch of feathers 
Held together by a silver buckle. 
And with gold and pearls thick interwoven. 
To the maiden thus speaks Musitch Stefan : 
" May God ever help thee, little sister. 
Where hast thou been on the field of battle ? 
Whither wilt thou take the white silk kalpak ? 


Gde si, duso, na ograsju bila ? 
Odkuda ti klobuk svile bele ? 
Daj mi, seko, klobuk svile bele. 
Da ga poznam, koga je vojvode ; 
A tako mi sretna puta moga, 
Nevere ti uciniti iiecu ! " 

Al besedi Kosovka devojka : 
" Zdravo da si, kne^eva vojvodo ! 
Nisam nigde na ograsju bila, 
Rano me je probudila majka. 
Mi ranimo te vodu grabimo ; 
Kad ja dodjoh na vodu Sitnicu, 
Al Sitnica mutna i povodna, 
Nosi, brate, konje i junake, 
Turske kape i bijele calme, 
Krasne srpske bijele klobuike ; 
Ovaj klobuk blizu kraja bese, 
Ja zagazih u vodu Sitnicu, 
I uhvatih klobuk svile bele ; 
Brata imam od mene mladjega, 
Nosim klobuk bratu rodjenome, 
Ja sam mlada, milo mi je perje." 

Klobuk dade knezevoj vojvodi. 
Cim ga vide Musicu Stevane, 
Cim ga vide, tim ga i poznade ; 
Prosu suze niz gospodsko lice, 
Udari se po kolenu rukom, 
Cisti skerlet na kolenu puce, 
Zlatna kopca na desnom rukavu : 
" Tesko meni i do Boga moga ! 


Give to me the silken kalpak, sister, 

That I see which warrior has worn it. 

Give it to me and I swear upon it 

By my journey's luck I will not harm thee." 

And replied the maiden of Kossovo : 

" Health and luck be thine, oh great voyvoda ! 

I have not been on the field of battle. 

But my mother woke me very early — 

We rise early and we fetch our water ; 

When I reached the river of Sitnitsa 

Lo, it was in flood, its waters turbid, 

And it bore upon it steeds and heroes, 

Turkish caps and many white silk kalpaks. 

Splendid silken Serbian caps it carried. 

Near the end was floating this white kalpak. 

In Sitnitsa's waters then I waded 

And I caught and held this white silk kalpak, 

For at home I have a younger brother 

And I take it to him for his birthday, 

I am young, and these white feathers please me." 

Then she gives the cap to the voyvoda ; 
Musitch Stefan takes it, and beholding. 
Knows who was the hero that has worn it ... . 
Down his white face are the tears fast falling. 
On his knee he strikes his hand in anguish 
Till the gold link of his sleeve is broken 
And all torn his silken hose of scarlet : — 
" Woe is me ! Now help me God Almighty, 
For my prince's curse is come upon me ! " 
He^ returns the kalpak to the maiden 


Na meni je ostanula kletva, 
Od mojega cestitoga kneza." 
Klobuk dade Kosovki devojki, 
Pa se masi u djepove rukom, 
Te joj dade tri dukata luta : 
" Naj ti, seko, Kosovka devojko, 
A ja idem na boj na Kosovo, 
U presveto ime Isusovo, — 
Ako Bog da te se natrag vratim, 
Lepsim cu te darivati darom ; 
Akol ! seko, ja pogiboh amo, 
Pomeni me po peskesu mome." 
Udarise konje mamuzama 
Pa Sitnicu vodu prebrodise, 
Udarise u carevi tabor. 

Kako dodje Musicu Stevane, 
Tri je pase bio i ubio ; 
Kad zapoce biti cetvrtoga, 
Tu pogibe Musicu Stevane 
I sa njime Vaistina sluga, 
I vojske mu dvanaest hiljada. 

I tu nam je i knez poginuo. 
Tu su Srblji izgubili carstvo 
Cestitoga cara zemaljskoga. 


And he puts his hand into his pocket, 
And he gives to her three yellow ducats : 
" Take these yellow ducats, little maiden, 
Now I go to battle, to Kossovo, 
I will fight there in the name of Jesus. 
If God will that I should come back safely. 
With a better gift I'll then present thee. 
But, dear sister, if I there should perish. 
By this gift now keep me in remembrance." 

Then they drive their spurs into the horses. 
Wade across the waters of Sitnitsa, 
Spurring, reach the prince's place of meeting. 
And when Musitch Stefan has arrived there 
Lo, he smites and slays three Turkish pashas ; 
As he with the fourth began to struggle 
Then the hero Musitch Stefan perished. 
And with him his servant Vayistina, 
And with him twelve thousand mighty v/arriors. 

And there has our noble monarch perished ; 
There the Serbians lost their ancient empire. 
And the Tsar Lazar his earthly kingdom. 


PosETALA carica Milica 
Ispred grada bijela Krusevca, 
S njome secu dvije mile kceri : 
Vukosava i lijepa Mara : 
K njima jezdi Vladeta vojvoda 
Na doratu, na konju dobrome ; 
Vladeta je konja oznojio, 
I u b'jelu pjenu obukao. 
Pita njega carica Milica : 
" Oj Boga ti, kneleva vojvodo, 
Sto si tako konja oznojio ? 
Ne ides li sa polja Kosova ? 
Ne vidje li cestitoga kneza, 
Gospodara i moga i tvoga ? " 
Al besjedi Vladeta vojvoda : 
" Oj, Boga mi, carice Milice, 
Ta ja idem sa polja Kosova, 
Al ne vidjeh cestitoga kneza, 
Vec ja vidjeh kne^eva zelenka — 
Teraju ga po Kosovu Turci ; 
A knez mislim da je poginuo." 

Kad to zacu carica Milica, 
Proli suze niz bijelo lice, 
Pak jos pita Vladetu vojvodu, 



TsARiTSA MILITSA Went a-walking 
Near the great white fortress of Krushevatz, 
With Militsa were her two dear daughters 
Vukosava and the lovely Mara. 

To them conies Vladeta the Voyvoda 

Riding on his bay, his faithful charger ; 

He has ridden him so hard and furious 

That the white foam from his flanks is dropping. 

Says to him the Tsaritsa Militsa : 

" God be with thee, oh thou princely warrior. 

Tell me wherefore is thy steed thus foaming ? 

Dost thou come now from the plain, Kossovo ? 

Hast thou there beheld our noble monarch 

My dear lord and thine, oh princely warrior ? " 

Answered her Vladeta the voyvoda : 

" God be with thee, Tsaritsa Mihtsa, 

I have ridden from the plain, Kossovo, 

But did not behold our noble monarch. 

I have only seen afar his charger 

Which the Turks chased on the field of battle, 

So I think our noble prince has perished." 

As the Tsaritsa Militsa listened 

Down her white face were the tears fast falling, 


" Jos mi kali, kneleva vojvodo ! 

Kad si bio na Kosovu ravnu, 

Ne vidje li devet Jugovica, 

I desetog starog Jug-Bogdana ? " 

Al besjedi Vladeta vojvoda ; 

" Ta ja prodjoh kroz Kosovo ravno, 

I ja vidjeh devet Jugovica, 

I desetog starog Jug-Bogdana. 

Oni bjehu u polja Kosova, 

Krvave im ruke do ramena, 

I zeleni maci do balcaka, — 

Ali su im malaksale ruke 

Sijekuci po Kosovu Turke." 

Jos mu rece carica Milica : 
" Stan' pocekaj, knezeva vojvoda, 
Ne vidje li jos dva ?eta moja, — 
Brankovica, Milos Obilica ? " 

Al besjedi Vladeta vojvoda : 
" Ta ja prodjoh kroz Kosovo ravno 
I ja vidjeh Milos Obilica : 
On stajase u polju Kosovu, 
Na bojno se koplje naslonio, 
Bojno mu se koplje prelomilo, 
Pak na njega Turci navalise. 
Do sad mislim da je poginuo : 
Al ne vidjeh Vuka Brankovica, 
Ne vidjeh ga, ne vid'lo ga sunce ! 
On i2;dade cestitoga kne^a, 
Gospodara i moga i tvoga." 


And she asked Vladeta the voyvoda : 
" Tell me truly, oh thou princely warrior, 
When thou wert upon the field Kossovo, 
Hast thou seen nine Jugovitch, my brothers. 
And the tenth, the Jug Bogdan, my father ? " 

Answered her Vladeta the Voyvoda : 
" As I galloped o'er the field of battle 
I have seen nine Jugovitch, thy brothers. 
And the tenth, the Jug Bogdan, thy father. 
Midway on Kossovo they were fighting. 
Bloody were their arms up to the shoulders 
And up to the hilts their long green sabres. 
But their arms sank weakened with much fighting 
As they cut the Turks down on Kossovo." 

Once more spoke the Tsaritsa Militsa : 
" Wait awhile with me, oh princely warrior ! 
Hast thou seen the husbands of my daughters. 
Hast thou seen Vuk Brankovitch and Milosh ? " 

Answered her Vladeta the Voyvoda : 

" As I galloped o'er the field of battle 

I saw Milosh Obilitch, the hero. 

He was standing on the plain, Kossovo, 

And upon his battle-lance was leaning. 

But alas, the battle-lance was broken 

And the Turks were pressing hard upon him. 

So I think that he has surely perished. 

Brankovitch I did not see, O mistress. 

Did not see him — may the sun not see him ! 

He betrayed the prince upon Kossovo, 

He betrayed thy lord and mine, dear lady." 


Uranila Kosovka devojka, 
Uranila rano u nedelju, 
U nedelju prije jarka sunca, 
Zasukala bijele rukave, 
Zasukala do belih lakata, 
Na plecima nosi hleba bela, 
U rukama dva kondira zlatna, 
U jednome ladjane vodice, 
U drugome rumenoga vina ; 
Ona ide na Kosovo ravno, 
Pa se sece po razboju mlada, 
Po razboju cestitoga kneza, 
Te prevrce po krvi junake ; 
Kog junaka u livotu nadje, 
Umiva ga ladjanom vodicom, 
Pricescuje vinom crvenijem 
I zalale hlebom bijelijem. 

Namera je namerila bila 
Na junaka Orlovica Pavla, 
Na knezeva mlada barjaktara, 
I njega je na§la u zivotu ; 
Desna mu je ruka osecena 
I lijeva noga do kolena, 
Vita su mu rebra i^lomljena, 



Early rose the maiden of Kossovo, 
Early rose she on a Sunday morning. 
Rose before the brilliant sun had risen. 
She has rolled the white sleeves of her robe back, 
Rolled them back up to her soft white elbows ; 
On her shoulders, fair white bread she carries. 
In her hands two shining golden goblets. 
In one goblet she has poured fresh water. 
And has poured good red wine in the other. 
Then she seeks the wide plain of Kossovo, 
Seeks the noble Prince's place of meeting. 
Wanders there amongst the bleeding heroes. 
When she finds one living midst the wounded 
Then she laves him with the cooling water. 
Gives him, sacramen tally, the red wine, 
Pledges with her fair white bread the hero. 

Fate at last has led her wand'ring footsteps 
Unto Pavle Orlovitch, the hero. 
Who has borne the Prince's battle-standard. 
From his gaping wounds the blood is streaming, 
His right hand and his left foot are severed — 
And the hero's ribs are crushed and broken. 
But he lingers still amongst the living. 
From the pools of blood she drags his body 



Vide mu se djigerice bele ; 
Izmice ga iz te mnoge krvce, 
Umiva ga ladjanom vodicom, 
Pricescuje vinom crvenijem 
Izalaze hlebom bijelijem. 

Kad junaku srce zaigralo, 

Progovara Orlovicu Pavle : 

" Sestro draga, Kosovko devojko, 

Koja ti je golema nevolja, 

Te prevrces po krvi junake ? 

Koga trails po razboju mlada ? 

Hi brata ili bratuceda 

Al po grehu stara roditelja ? " 

Progovara Kosovka devojka : 
" Dragi brato, delijo neznana ! 
Ja od roda nikoga ne tralim — 
Niti brata niti bratuceda, 
Ni po grehu stara roditelja ; 
Moz' li znati, delijo neznana 
Kad knez Laza pricesciva vojsku, 
Kod prekrasne Samodreze crkve, 
Tri nedelje tridest kaludjera ? 
Sva se srpska pricestila vojska, 
Najposlije tri vojvode vojne : 
Jedno jeste Milosu vojvoda, 
A drugo je Kosancic Ivane, 
A trece je Toplica Milane ; 
Ja se onda desih na vratima, 
Kad se seta vojvoda Milosu, — 
Krasan junak na ovome svetu ; 


A.nd she laves him with the cooling water. 
Red wine, sacramentally, she gives him. 
Pledges then with fair white bread the hero. 

When at length his heart revives within him. 

Thus speaks Pavle Orlovitch, the hero : 

" Oh dear sister. Maiden of Kossovo, 

What great need compels thee here to wander. 

Thou, so young, amongst the wounded heroes ? 

What dost thou upon the field of battle ? 

Dost thou seek a brother's son, or brother. 

Dost thou seek perchance an aged father ? " 

Answered him the Maiden of Kossovo : 

" Oh dear brother ! Oh thou unknown warrior ! 

None of my own race am I now seeking, 

Not a brother's son nor yet a brother. 

Neither do I seek an aged father. 

Wast thou present, oh thou unknown warrior. 

When for three whole weeks to all his army 

Prince Lazar the Sacrament was giving 

By the hands of thirty holy fathers. 

In the splendid church of Samodreha ? 

When Lazar and all the Serbian army 

There the Holy Sacrament have taken. 

Three Voyvodas last of all did enter : 

First of them was Milosh, the great warrior, 

Ivan Kossanchich was close behind him. 

And the third, Toplitza Milan, followed. 

" I by chance stood then within the doorway 
When there passed young Milosh, the great warrior. 
In the whole world no more splendid hero ; 


Sablja mu se po kaldrmi vuce, 
Svilen kalpak, okovano perje, 
Na junaku kolasta azdija, 
Oko vrata svilena marama ; 
Obazre se i pogleda na me, 
S' sebe skide kolastu azdiju, 
S' sebe skide, pa je meni dade : 
' Na, devojko, koiastu azdiju, 
Po cemu ces mene spomenuti, 
Po azdiji po imenu mome : 
Evo t' idem poginuti, duso, 
U taboru cestitoga kne2;a ; 
Moli Boga, draga duso moja. 
Da ti s' zdravo iz tabora vratim, 
A i tebe dobra sreca nadje, — 
Uzecu te 2a Milana moga, 
Za Milana Bogom pobratima, 
Koj' je mene Bogom pobratio, 
Visnjim Bogom i svetim Jovanom, 
Ja cu tebi kum vencani biti.' 

Za njim ide Kosancic Ivane, 
Krasan junak na ovome svetu, 
Sablja mu se po kaldrmi vuce, 
Svilen kalpak, okovano perje ; 
Na junaku kolasta azdija, 
Oko vrata svilena marama, 
Na ruci mu burma pozlacena ; 
Obazre se i pogleda na me, 
S ruke skide burmu pozlacenu, 
S ruke skide, pa je meni dade : 
' Na, devojko, burmu po2;ladenu, 


On the ground his clanking sabre trailing. 
Silken cap with proudly waving feathers. 
Many-coloured mantle on his shoulders 
And around his neck a silken kerchief. 
Then he gazes round and looks upon me. 
He takes off his many-coloured mantle, 
Takes it off, and gives it to me, saying : — 
' Here, oh Maiden, is my coloured mantle, 
By it thou wilt keep me in remembrance. 
By this mantle shall my name live with thee. 
Now, dear Maid, must I go forth to perish 
There where camps the noble Prince's army ; 
Pray to God for me, dear Maid, my sister. 
That I may come back again in safety. 
And that all good fortune may attend thee 
I will marry thee to my friend Milan, 
Him whom God has given me as brother. 
My friend Milan who is my sworn brother. 
In God's name and good Saint John's, I promise 
I will be a groomsman at thy wedding.' 

" Ivan Kossanchich was close behind him. 
In the whole world no more splendid hero ; 
On the ground his clanking sabre trailing. 
Silken cap with proudly waving feathers. 
Many-coloured mantle on his shoulders 
And around his neck a silken kerchief. 
On his hand a golden ring is shining. 
Then he gazes round and looks upon me. 
Takes the golden ring from off his finger. 
Takes it off and gives it to me, saying : — 
* Here hast thou my ring of gold, oh Maiden, 


Po cemu ces mene spomenuti, 
A po burmi, po imenu mome : 
Evo t' idem poginuti, duso, 
U taboru cestitoga kneza ; 
Moli Boga, moja duso draga. 
Da ti s' zdravo iz tabora vratim, 
A i tebe dobra sreca nadje, — 
Uzecu te za Milana moga, 
Za Milana Bogom probratima, 
Koj' je mene Bogom pobratio, 
Visnjim Bogom i svetim Jovanom ; 
Ja cu tebi rucni dever biti.' 

Za njim ide Toplica Milane, 
Krasan junak na ovome svetu ; 
Sablja mu se po kaldrmi vuce, 
Svilen kalpak, okovano perje, 
Na junaku kolasta azdija, 
Oko vrata svilena marama, 
Na ruci mu koprena od zlata ; 
Obazre se i pogleda na me, 
S ruke skide koprenu od zlata, 
S ruke skide, pa je meni dade : 
* Na, devojko, koprenu od zlata, 
Po cemu ces mene spomenuti, 
Po kopreni po imenu mome : 
Evo t' idem poginuti, duso, 
U taboru cestitoga kneza ; 
Moli Boga, moja duso draga. 
Da ti s' zdravo iz tabora vratim, 
Tebe, du§o, dobra sreca nadje, 
Uzecu te za vernu Ijubovcu.' 


By it thou wilt have me in remembrance. 
By this gold ring shall my name live with thee. 
Now, dear maid, must I go forth to perish 
There where camps the noble Prince's army ; 
Pray to God for me, dear Maid, my sister, 
That I may come back again in safety. 
And that all good fortune may attend thee 
I will marry thee to my friend Milan, 
Him whom God has given me as brother. 
My friend Milan who is my sworn brother. 
In God's name and good Saint John's, I promise 
I myself will give thee to the bridegroom.' 

" Then Toplit^a Milan follows after, 
In the whole world no more splendid hero ; 
On the ground his clanking sabre trailing. 
Silken cap with proudly waving feathers. 
Many-coloured mantle on his shoulders 
And around his neck a silken kerchief, 
On his hand a golden ring is shining 
And upon his arm a golden bracelet. 
Then he gazes round and looks upon me. 
From his arm he takes the golden bracelet, 
Takes it off and gives it to me, saying : — 
' Here, oh Maiden, is my golden bracelet, 
By it thou wilt have me in remembrance. 
Now, dear Maid, must I go forth to perish 
There where camps our noble Prince's army ; 
Pray to God for me, dear soul, my darling. 
That I may come back again in safety; 
Then, dear Maid, that good luck may attend thee, 
I will take thee for my true beloved,' 


I odose tri vojvode bojne, 

Njih ja danas po razboju tralira." 

Al besedi Orlovicu Pavle : 
" Sestro draga, Kosovko devojko ! 
Vidis, duso, ona koplja bojna 
Ponajvisa a i ponajgusca ? 
Onde j' pala krvca od junaka 
Ta dobrome konju do stremena, 
Do stremena i do uzendjije, 
A junaku do svilena pasa, — 
Onde su ti sva tri poginula ; 
Vec ti idi dvoru bijelome, 
Ne krvavi skuta i rukava." 

Kad devojka saslusala reci, 
Proli suze niz bijelo lice, 
Ona ode svom bijelom dvoru 
Kukajuci iz bijela grla : 
" Jao, jadna ! hude ti sam srece ! 
Da se, jadna, za 2;elen bor hvatim, 
I on bi se zelen osusio ! " 


And then went away these mighty leaders, 
ad to-day I seek them here, oh brother, 
;ek them here, upon the field of battle ! " 

avle Orlovitch then makes her answer : 
Oh dear sister. Maiden of Kossovo, 
)ost thou see, dear soul, those battle-lances 
7here they lie most thickly piled together ? 
.'here has flowed the life-blood of the heroes ; 
,"0 the stirrups of the faithful horses, 
To the stirrups and the girths it mounted, 
viounted to the heroes' silken girdles, 
Vnd the three have fallen there together, 
"nTow return thee to thy fair white castle 
^est thy skirts and sleeves with blood be spattered," 

To the hero's words tlie maiden listens, 
Down her white face are the fast tears falling ; 
i;he returns then to her fair white castle, 
i^rom her white throat pour her lamentations ; 
f. Woe is me, what fate I bear within me, 
I but touch the young and tender sapling 
l.nd the fair green pine must surely wither," 

MiLi Boze, cuda velikoga ! 

Kad se sleze na Kosovo vojska, 

U toj vojsci devet Jugovica, 

I deseti star-Ju2e Bogdane, 

Boga moli Jugovica Majka, 

Da joj Bog da oci sokolove 

I bijela krila labudova, 

Da odleti nad Kosovo ravno, 

I da vidi devet Jugovida 

I desetog star-Juga Bogdana. 

Sto molila, Boga domolila : 
Bog joj dao oci sokolove 
I bijela krila labudova, 
Ona leti na Kosovo ravno. 
Mrtvih nadje devet Jugovica 
I desetog star — Juga Bogdana, 
I vi§e njih devet bojnih koplja, 
Na kopljima devet sokolova, 
Oko koplja devet dobrih konja, 
A pored njih devet Ijutih lava. 
Tad' zavrista devet dobrih konja, 


Lord of Hosts, how passing great the marvel I 

When the army camps upon Kossovo 
In its ranks the Jugovitch — nine brothers. 
And the tenth, the Jug Bogdan, their father. 
Unto God then prays the aged mother : 
" Give me, God, the keen eyes of a falcon. 
Give to me, oh God, the swan's white pinions ; 
I would seek the wide plain of Kossovo, 
I would see the Jugovitch — nine brothers. 
And the tenth, the Jug Bogdan, their father." 

Thus she prays to God — her prayer is granted. 
God gives her the keen eyes of the falcon 
And He gives to her the swan's white pinions. 
And she seeks the wide plain of Kossovo. 
Dead she finds the Jugovitch — nine brothers 
And the tenth, the Jug Bogdan, their father. 
At their sides nine batde-spears are lying. 
On the spears are perched nine keen-eyed falcons, 
Round the spears stand nine good battle-horses. 
And nine lions he beside their masters. 
And there roar their grief the nine grim lions, 
And there mourn the nine good battle-horses, 


I zalaja devet Ijutih lava, 
A zaklikta devet sokolova : 
I tu majka tvrda srca bila. 
Da od srca suze ne pustila ; 
Vec uzima devet dobrih konja, 
I uzima devet Ijutih lava, 
I uzima devet sokolova, 
Pak se vrati dvoru bijelome. 

Daleko je snahe ugledale, 
Malo blize pred nju isetale : 
Zakukalo devet udovica, 
Zaplakalo devet sirotica, 
Zavristalo devet dobrih konja, 
Zalajalo devet Ijutih lava, 
Zakliktalo devet sokolova ; 
I tu majka tvrda srca bila. 
Da od srca su?e ne pustila, 

Kad je bilo noci u ponoci , 
Al zavrista Damjanov zelenko ; 
Pita majka Damjanove Ijube : 
" Snaho moja, Ijubo Damjanova, 
Sto nam vristi Damjanov zelenko ? 
Al' je gladan senice bjelice. 
All ledan vode sa Zvecana ? " 
Progovara Ijuba Damjanova : 
" Svekrvice, majko Damjanova, 
Nit* je gladan Senice bjelice, 
Niti zedan vode sa Zvecana, 
Vec je njega Damjan naucio 


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 Zvechan'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 Zvechan'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 ; 


Do ponoci sitnu zob zohati, 
Od ponoci na drum pustovati ; 
Pak on zali svoga gospodara 
Sto ga nije na sebi donio." 
I tu majka tvrda srca bila, 
Da od srca suze ne pustila. 

Kad u jutru danak osvanuo, 
All lete dva vrana gavrana, 
Krvava im krila do ramena, 
Na kljunove b' jela pjena trgla ; 
Oni nose ruku od junaka 
I na ruci burma pozlacena, 
Bacaju je u krioce majci. 
Uze ruku Jugovica majka, 
Okretala, prevrtala s njome. 
Pa dozivlje Ijubu Damjanovu : 
" Snaho moja, Ijubo Damjanova, 
Bi r poznala cija j* ovo ruka ? " 
Progovara Ijuba Damjanova : 
" Svekrvice, majko Damjanova, 
Ovo j' ruka nasega Damjana, 
Jera burmu ja poznajem, majko, 
Burma sa mnom na vjencanju bila." 
Uze majka ruku Damjanovu, 
Okretala, prevrtala s njome, 
Pak je ruci tiho besjedila : 
" Moja ruko, Helena jabuko, 
Gdje si rasla, gdje 1' si ustrgnuta ! 
A rasla si na kriocu mome, 
Ustrgnuta na Kosovu ravnom I " 


Therefore now laments he for his master 
Sorrows that he left his lord behind him 
There upon the wide plain of Kossovo." 
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 : 

" 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 

Woe is me ! thou blossomed on my bosom, 
Thou wast plucked, alas, upon Kossovo ! " 


Nadula se Jugovica majka, 
Nadula se, pa se i raspade, 
Za svojijeh devet Jugovica, 
I desetim star-Jugom Bogdanom. 


And the mother's heart swelled big with anguish, 
Swelled the mother's heart, and broke with sorrow 
For her dead, the Jugovitch — nine brothers 
And the tenth, the Jug Bogdan, their father. 


Kad La^aru odsekose glavu 
Na ubavu na polju Kosovu, 
Od Srblja se niko ne desio, 
Vec se desi jedno Ture mlado, — 
Jeste Ture, al je od robin je, 
Rodila ga Srpkinja robinja ; 
Pa besedi tursko mortice mlado : 
" Ao, Titrci, moja braco draga, 
Ovo j' glava jednog gospodara, 
Grehota je od Boga jednoga. 
Da je kljuju orli i gavrani. 
Da je gaze konji i junaci." 
Uze glavu svetoga La2;ara, 
Zavi u skut kolaste azdije 
Pa je nosi do vode kladenca, 
Spusti glavu u vodu kladenac. 
Stajala je glava u kladencu 
Lepo vreme cetrdeset leta, 
A ubavo na Kosovu telo, — 
Ni ga jedu orli ni gavrani, 
Ni ga gaze konji ni junaci. 

Mili Bole, na svem* tebi kvala I 
Podigle se kiridjije mlade 



When the Tsar Lazar has been beheaded 
On the fair and pleasant field Kossovo, 
Not a Serbian warrior beheld it. 
But a Turkish boy, a slave, was present. 
Born a slave, but of a Serbian mother ; 
And he speaks thus to the Turkish warriors : 
" Woe to me, oh Turks, oh my dear brothers. 
For this is the head of a great noble, 
And it were a sin 'gainst God Almighty 
If the eagles and the ravens pecked it. 
If upon it men and horses trampled," . . . 
Takes the head then of La?ar the holy 
Wraps it in his many-coloured mantle, 
Bears it to the waters of a fountain. 
There it lay for forty lovely summers. 
While the body lay upon Kossovo, 
Pecked not by the eagles and the ravens. 
Trampled not by horses or by heroes. 

Now dear God, all thanks to Thee be given ! 
On a day there came some youthful teamsters 
From the white and pleasant town of Skoplje, 
In their waggons they bear Greeks and Bulgars, 



Od ubava Skopjla bela grada, 
Oni voze Grke i Bugare, 
Oni idu Nisu i Vidinu, 
Na Kosovu konak ucinili. 
Vecerale kiridjije mlade, 
Vecerale, pak su olednile ; 
Izmedj' sebe venjer uzegose, 
Uzegose venjer jasnu svecu, 
Oni traze vode po Kosovu ; 

Namera ih namerila bila, 
Namerila na vodu kladenca, 
Jedan veil kiridjija mladi : 
" Ev* u vodi mesecine sjajne," 
Drugi veil kiridjija mladi : 
" Nije, braco, mesecina sjajna." 
Treci muci, ni§ta ne besedi, 
Okrenu se pravo ka istoku, 
Pa pomenu Boga istinoga, 
1st' nog Boga i svetog Nikolu : 
" Pomoz' Boze, i oce Nikola ! " 
Pa Z3-gazi u vodu kladenca, 
Te izvadi iz kladenca glavu, 
Svetitelja srpskoga Lazara, 
Pa je mece na zelenu travu, 
I zahiti vode u kondiru. 

Dok se zedni vodom obredise, 
Kad su crnoj zemlji pogledali, 
Nesta glave sa zelene trave. 
Ode glava preko polja sama, 
Sveta glava do svetoga tela, 
Pripoji se kako gto j' i bila. 


They will bring them unto Nish and Vidni, 

And they spend the night upon Kossovo. 

There together sup the youthful teamsters 

And when they have supped they all grow 

Then amongst themselves they light a lantern. 
Light a lantern with its shining candle, 
And they seek for water on Kossovo. 

By a hazard, chance has led their footsteps 
Led their footsteps to the chilly fountain. 
And thus speaks one of the youthful teamsters : 
" See the moonlight shining in the water." 
Speaks the second of the youthful teamsters : 
" It is not the moonlight shining, brothers." 
But the third is silent, no word says he. 
And towards the east he turns him straightly 
And the one true God he loudly praises, 
Praises God and Nicholas the Holy : 
" Help me God, and Nicholas be witness ! " 
Then he wades into the chilly fountain 
And he takes the head from out the waters. 
Takes the head of Tsar Lazar the holy. 
Then he places it upon the green grass, 
And he fetches water in a goblet. 
And the three young teamsters drink together. 

When they looked again upon the black earth 
Lo, the head was not upon the green grass. 
But it moved alone upon Kossovo, 


Kad ujutru beo dan osvanu, 
Glas dadose kiridjije mlade, 
Glas dadose starim svestenikom. 
I to dodje mnogo svestenika, 
Tri stotine starih svestenika, 
I dvanaest velikih vladika, 
I cetiri stara patrijara : 
Prvo Pecki, drugo Carigradski, 
Vasiljenski i Jerusalimski ; 
Oblacise velike odezde, 
I na glave kape kamilavke, 
I u ruke knjige starostavne. 
Pa catise velike molitve, 
I driase velika denija 
Za tri dana i tri noci tavne 
Ni sedose, ni se odmorise, 
Ni legose, ni sanka imaSe 
Mole sveca, kud ce svetac poci, 
Da kojoj ce La2;a zaduzbini : 
ir Opovu, ili Krusedolu, 
ir ce Jasku, ili Besenovoj, 
ir Rakovcu, ili Sisatovcu, 
ir ce Djiv§i ili Kuvezdinu, 
Da ili ce u Macedoniju. 

Nece svetac zaduzbini tudjoj, 
Vec on hoce svojoj zaduzbini, 
A u svoju krasnu Ravanicu 
Pod visokom pod Kucaj-planinom, 
Sto je La2;a sagradio crkvu 


Holy head towards most holy body. 

And the two were once more joined together. 

When the white day dawned upon the morrow, 

Then the youthful teamsters brought the tidings. 

Brought the tidings to the holy fathers. 

And there came three hundred holy fathers. 

And with them there came twelve pious bishops. 

And four patriarchs came with the bishops 

From Jerusalem the holy city. 

And from Fetch, and from Constantinople. 

They put on their sacerdotal vestments. 

They put on their vestments, and their head-dress,. 

In their hands the Ancient Books they carried, 

Solemn prayers upon the plain they chanted, 

And they kept unceasing holy vigil — 

Three dark nights and three days, kept their vigil. 

Never sitting down and never resting. 

Never lying down and never sleeping. 

Questioned they the Tsar Lazar, the holy. 

Unto which foundation they should bear him ; 

Unto Krushedol or to Apovo, 

Unto Jaska or to Beshenova, 

Unto Rakovatz or Shishatovatz, 

Unto Kuvezdin or unto Djivsha, 

Or if he would go to Macedonia : 

But to neither would the saint be carried 

He preferred to all his own foundation. 
He preferred his splendid Ravanitza 
At the foot of the high mountain Kuchaj ; 
For Lazar built there to God a temple 


Za 2ivota joste za svojega, 
Sagradio sebi zaduzbinu 
A svom hlebu i o svome blagu, 
A bez suza bez sirotinjskijeh. 


While he lived and ruled amongst his people, 
Built a church for his own soul's salvation, 
Built with his own bread and his own treasure, 
Not with tears of widows and of orphans.