Asim Bajramović
On the hillfort stands a poplar,
wind has broken all its boughs;
sorrow bends upon its branches,
like the songs left all unsung.
Once the poplar stood defiant
against crimson dawn and cloud;
toward the blue sky it had risen,
in the clearing beneath the hillfort.
It defied the winter snowfalls,
welcomed every cold rainstorm;
but the age has gone somewhere,
and its branches have been broken.
Gone are all its dreams and glory,
gone the green leaves crowning it;
perhaps someone still remembers:
the poplar once stood proud.
All in vain, my grieving poplar,
vain the trembling yellow leaf;
whether sooner or much later,
fate remains the same for all.
While they see you, all will know you,
all will praise or speak against you;
when you vanish, dawn no longer breaks,
nor does the morning glow with red.
On the hillfort stands a poplar, wind has broken all its boughs; sorrow bends upon its branches, like the songs left all unsung. Once the poplar stood defiant against crimson dawn and cloud; toward the blue sky it had risen, in the clearing beneath the hillfort. It defied the winter snowfalls, welcomed every cold rainstorm; but the age has gone somewhere, and its branches have been broken. Gone are all its dreams and glory, gone the green leaves crowning it; perhaps someone still remembers: the poplar once stood proud. All in vain, my grieving poplar, vain the trembling yellow leaf; whether sooner or much later, fate remains the same for all. While they see you, all will know you, all will praise or speak against you; when you vanish, dawn no longer breaks, nor does the morning glow with red.