SREBRENICA SOULS, CRYING AND SCREAMING.. Ruki Kočan

 Man,
 look in the mirror ...
 Swing a little - into your soul.
 Ask sick,
 stone - your heart.
 Speak, - persecute pagans and evildoers.
 Come on, in the name of life and honorable death ...
 Because - you don't
 right to remain silent:
 If you know, in the name of love.
 Nobody,
 no one has the right to remain silent.
 Eno,
 and today the universe of dew,
 wander and cry - open,
 brutally killed,
 human eyes.
 Shouts and cries are still heard:
 Don't kill me
 tonight- neighbor, dear brother.
 Here- kill me -
  don't kill my children.
 While Bosnia is pouring,
 icy rain of pain,
 injustice and shame.
 And fear.
 I'm crying, poor thing.
 Srebrenica mothers.
 Drops, tears - those bloody tears ...
 They will whine forever,
 and to weep souls.
 And people are crying -
 forgive, and remember.
 While, they will forever gape at the enemy's pits,
 - poisons of hatred and evil.
 The factory halls of death, and the cries of the poor.
 In the desolation of trembling -
 they seek life, - they seek love.
 My God,
 cries and shouts everywhere,
 voices and pity.
 Sadness, in the abyss
 Balkan in vain.
 All the fields are awake,
 and torture ina ....
 Sounds of a bullet,
 and grenade.
 Terrible power,
 recruits and armies.
 From cries, from cries and tears,
 the scents of souls are heard,
 and quiet,
 contrite prayer ...
 Srebrenica, Bosnia,
 and the Planet, - echo the words:
 Yes, never,
 and it doesn't happen to anyone.
 To follow you constantly,
 and they will still cry
 those eyes, eyes, eyes ...
 Hers, and his,
 eyes dreamy ...
 Oh, the bright rays of the planetary breath,
 where you are?!
 Where you are,
 the stars of my darling.
 Where are you light?

 Under the sights ...
 In the graves,
 sleeps our youth.
 Dreams and reality.
 Stolen lives, they stayed,
 in the woods,
 i gudurama ...
 In current figures - 8372 -.
 Severe, - traumatized souls ...
 They are so attacked,
 and restless ...
 They are alive,
 - wounds angry.
 Squat, dear souls.
 Life, - call and scream!
 My love.
 Look, they're still alive, - on bonfires
 cowardly extinct lives ...
 Killed in their sleep,
 disgraced people.
 Nejač.  The poor are angry.
 Do not forget.
 Buried by excavators ...
 Buried with injustice,
 lies and slander, ...
 In pain to pain, windows of tears.
 Knowingly disgustingly killed ...
 Because of the name.
 And, remember
 mutilated camp inmates,
 and the ravines are deserted.
 Living memories.
 Naked poisons, - full of torment
 and sobs.
 God remembers.
 Earth and sky remember -
 that they were cruelly, and Catholicly abused.
 They are so many, - massively strangled ...
 They disappeared in the smoke of the fire.
 Uhh.  So tortured and children, killed.
 In their homes.

 Dear God.
 Do you hear, my world?
 And who will awaken youth.
 And, those of Srebrenica,
 golden eyes.
 Uhh, - those eyes.
 Souls - remember everything,
 my friend.
 No no.
 The blood is red, and it is not water.
 You know, that the Truth is the one and only.
 They warn us,
 defiance - evil ghosts of death.
 And, poor souls - they know everything.
 They have pride,
 and the memory angry.
 They don't lose their souls,
 out of sight.
  No, and no - without catharsis,
 without freedom and love.
 Not even in a dream.
 Never.
 You - ours, - you and my poor eyes,
 no guilt to forgive ...
 Our,
 Srebrenica souls,
 so they went!
 And when and when to kiss -
 those lips are yellow,
 my brother?
 When?
 Come on, - tell me.
 I know, those eyes are awake, they're eating,
 in the matrix of the Cosmos.
  They are awake, in the consciousness of the time machine.
 They are eternal,
 as suffering,
 and death camp.

 And, in the cefins are souls, -
 one, - live me,
 under the white nišan tombstones they speak.
 To sue.
 They cry and chase the killers.
 Sin to sin, there are only cries of the heart - there somewhere,
 forever left.
 They are buried,
 and their dreams,
 on the wings
 - in the waves of the ether, in the proton
 and a neutron ...
 In frequencies,
 obvious evil.
 And those planetary roses have dried up.
 Leaves and trees, guardian -
 from Potocari.
 Our Bosnia.
 They smell,
 Thyme.
 And, those lilacs strong, lush.
 No children's songs are heard.
 They no longer give birth to mothers-
 those fairy hair, lush.
 Oh, yes, to die
 all our beauty.
 Seas, all rivers, mountains.

 Apples,
 plums, sheftelia ranke.
   Is it, asik dawn - not to ore anymore.
   Are the akshamluci whining,
   and, saz, - the old guitar - they are silent.
 Shall Sevdah and the accordion weep?
 in the cemetery - embraced to cry.
 The flowers have withered,
 and beharu.

 Shall we sleep - my world !?
 And, there is no one,
 not a whiff of wind.
 No - the waves of the wild river.
 The courtyards and alleys are a little silent.
 They don't breathe there - her whispers ...
 No more joy, spring or summer.
 Birds don't breathe either, anymore.
 And mothers, they are barely alive.
   Just blows,
   poor orphans.
 And, not yet makeup girls,
 our fabulous smiles.