Written by Nermin DONLAGIC
Do you sometimes stop by the quiet inn, like you used to,
And sit at the wooden table in the corner?
Is there anyone there to listen to you intently
While you talk about Buddha and Krishna?
Do you sometimes come to a silent river
To steal an hour from a dreary day?
Can the song that exalts homeland
Still be heard through the late night?
I see you restless in a crowd of drunken idiots,
Who even sober, fly on wings of error.
Why don’t you try to walk the road of truth?
For, you know, it is so hard to be a human
In these cruel and inhuman times.
Where does your unabashed glance wander,
When you pass along the row of burnt houses?
When you see an old man with his eyes full of tears,
Who futilely awaits the return of a dead son?
Do you sometimes rebuke those vile deeds
Of the supposed classmates of our youth?
Many supposed that after they did it
Their lives would have a happier course.
These hard times of feebleminded people will pass,
Time will diminish their warmongering hue.
Engraved scars will be covered by grass.
But remember, classmate from my youth,
These words, and similar written deeds, will witness
These times, and your misdeeds, in full.