Asim Bajramović
Today I walked near Zavidovichi,
where paths of mystery intertwine.
Deep Creek murmured over the stones,
while ancient secrets slept beneath the ground.
There in the park, the stone spheres stand,
like silent guardians of time.
The rains have washed them, the winds have struck them
who knows how many generations they recall?
Stone spheres, speak—let it be known!
Zavidovichi—my dreamlike Bosnia!
Let this song go out across the world,
so the spheres of stone will be remembered.
Let the spheres of stone be remembered,
and with them Bosnia, our beloved land,
watered by the blood of Bosnians.
It is a secret still unknown to the heart;
here the Bosnian lily blooms in defiance.
Some are larger, others somewhat smaller;
each sphere conceals a silent tale.
I gaze upon them, and it seems I hear
every sphere calling out to Bosnia.
Did the earth shape you with its mighty force?
Were you fashioned by the human hand?
Or do you guard your mystery in silence—
the mystery that has enfolded Bosnia?
Stone spheres, speak—let it be known!
Zavidovichi—my dreamlike Bosnia!
Let this song go out across the world,
so the spheres of stone will be remembered.
Let the spheres of stone be remembered,
and with them Bosnia, our beloved land,
watered by the blood of Bosnians.
It is a secret still unknown to the heart;
here the Bosnian lily blooms in defiance.
From Gostovichi onward toward Tayan,
every stone bears a story of its own.
A gentle breeze blows, and Bosnia breathes sweetly,
proud of every sphere of stone.
Today I stood there among you,
while time flowed onward like a river.
As long as Bosnia’s name is written
in our hearts, it shall live forever.
Stone spheres, speak—let it be known!
Zavidovichi—my dreamlike Bosnia!
Let this song go out across the world,
so the spheres of stone will be remembered.
Let the spheres of stone be remembered,
and with them Bosnia, our beloved land,
watered by the blood of Bosnians.
It is a secret still unknown to the heart;
here the Bosnian lily blooms in defiance.
Stone spheres, tell the world of Bosnia;
tell what no one ever came to know.
We need not uncover every secret—
there is beauty in what time has kept.
When I return from Zavidovichi,
I will keep one picture in my heart:
the stone spheres will remain forever,
and I will carry them within my song.
Stone spheres, speak—let it be known!
Zavidovichi—my dreamlike Bosnia!
Let this song go out across the world,
so the spheres of stone will be remembered.
Let the spheres of stone be remembered,
and with them Bosnia, our beloved land,
watered by the blood of Bosnians.
It is a secret still unknown to the heart;
here the Bosnian lily blooms in defiance.
Today I walked near Zavidovichi, where paths of mystery intertwine. Deep Creek murmured over the stones, while ancient secrets slept beneath the ground. There in the park, the stone spheres stand, like silent guardians of time. The rains have washed them, the winds have struck them who knows how many generations they recall? Stone spheres, speak—let it be known! Zavidovichi—my dreamlike Bosnia! Let this song go out across the world, so the spheres of stone will be remembered. Let the spheres of stone be remembered, and with them Bosnia, our beloved land, watered by the blood of Bosnians. It is a secret still unknown to the heart; here the Bosnian lily blooms in defiance. Some are larger, others somewhat smaller; each sphere conceals a silent tale. I gaze upon them, and it seems I hear every sphere calling out to Bosnia. Did the earth shape you with its mighty force? Were you fashioned by the human hand? Or do you guard your mystery in silence— the mystery that has enfolded Bosnia? Stone spheres, speak—let it be known! Zavidovichi—my dreamlike Bosnia! Let this song go out across the world, so the spheres of stone will be remembered. Let the spheres of stone be remembered, and with them Bosnia, our beloved land, watered by the blood of Bosnians. It is a secret still unknown to the heart; here the Bosnian lily blooms in defiance. From Gostovichi onward toward Tayan, every stone bears a story of its own. A gentle breeze blows, and Bosnia breathes sweetly, proud of every sphere of stone. Today I stood there among you, while time flowed onward like a river. As long as Bosnia’s name is written in our hearts, it shall live forever. Stone spheres, speak—let it be known! Zavidovichi—my dreamlike Bosnia! Let this song go out across the world, so the spheres of stone will be remembered. Let the spheres of stone be remembered, and with them Bosnia, our beloved land, watered by the blood of Bosnians. It is a secret still unknown to the heart; here the Bosnian lily blooms in defiance. Stone spheres, tell the world of Bosnia; tell what no one ever came to know. We need not uncover every secret— there is beauty in what time has kept. When I return from Zavidovichi, I will keep one picture in my heart: the stone spheres will remain forever, and I will carry them within my song. Stone spheres, speak—let it be known! Zavidovichi—my dreamlike Bosnia! Let this song go out across the world, so the spheres of stone will be remembered. Let the spheres of stone be remembered, and with them Bosnia, our beloved land, watered by the blood of Bosnians. It is a secret still unknown to the heart; here the Bosnian lily blooms in defiance.