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Bosniaks ballad from 17th century, translated on English by Walter Scott, on German by Johann Goethe, on Russian by Pushkin etc.
On Bosnian language: http://bosanceros.bloger.index.hr/po...sma/77824.aspx
The Ballad of Hasanaginica
I.
What yonder glimmers so white on the mountain,
Glimmers so white where yon sycamores grow?
Is it wild swans around Vaga's fair fountain?
Or is it a wreath of the wintery snow?
II.
Had it been snow glimmers wihite on the mountain,
By this it had melted before the bright day,
Or had it been swans around Vaga's fair fountain
They had stretched their broad pinions and sped them away
III.
It is not swans around the fountain of Vaga,
It is not a wreath of the wintery snow,
But it is the gay tents of the fierce Asan Aga
Glimmering so white where yon sycamores grow.
IV.
Low lies the Chief on the couch of the wounded,
There watch his sisters with tenderest care.
There weeps his mother in sorrow unbounded
Every sad friend — but his Lady — is there.
V.
She sorrow'd more than the fondest of mothers,
But from the thronged camp in which wounded he lay
Though there flocked sad friends, tender sisters and brothers
Timid shamefacedness compelled her to stay.
VI.
But at her absense high kindling his anger
Wrote the stern Chieftain this severing line —
»Away from my Castle, its Mistress no longer,
Away from my children and all that is mine.«
VII.
Anguish the heart of that Lady deep rended
When the hard message was brought to her eye
Woe were the looks on her children she bended
Weeping around her, though scarce knowing why.
IX.
O'er the high drawbridge come horses loud prancing,
Wildly she started in desperate mood
She thought 'twas the signal of Asan advancing,
And rushed to the turret to plunge in the flood.
X.
»Stay thee, oh, stay thee! My Mother! My Mother!
'Tis not the steeds of our father you hear —
'Tis the fleet horse of Carazan thy brother.«
Thus cried her children in sorrow and fear.
XI.
Then the sad mourner turn'd back to her brother,
Clinging around him with bitterest moan:
»Late of these five little darlings, the mother,
Now see me, Carazan, the mother of none.«
XII.
Silent and sad stood her brother Carazan,
Then drew from his bosom the severing Bill
Speaking divorce to the Lady of Asan,
Leaving her free to espouse whom she will.
XIII.
Then the sad dame to her girls gave her blessing,
Kissed the red cheek of each fair featured boy,
But from the suckling to her breast closely pressing —
Woe's me! — she could not unloosen the tie.
XIV.
Torn was the tie by her harsh-tempered brother;
He raised her behind him upon his fleet horse,
And to the lofty abode of their mother,
He bent with the sorrowful Lady his course.
XV.
Scarce had a fortnight that widow past over,
Only a fortnight, a fortnight and day —
When to that Lady came many a lover,
All in her mourning as weeping she lay.
XVI.
The greatest of all was Imoski's proud Cadi;
Long had he loved her more dearly than life;
Then to her brother spoke weeping that lady
»Give me no more to another to wife.«
XVII.
»Give me no more as a wife to another« —
Thus to her brother in sorrow she spoke —
»Lest when my poor orphans shall call on their mother,
By anguish and longing my heart should be broke.«
XVIII.
Her brother cared not for the prayer of the lady,
Firmly resolved to bestow her as spouse —
To bestow her as spouse on Imotski's great Cadi,
That the high marriage-gifts might enrich his proud house.
XIX.
»Yet bid the Cady, my brother Carazan,
Bring a black veil this sad head to enfold,
Lest when I pass by the dwelling of Asan,
These widowed eyes should their orphans behold.«
XX.
Scarce was the message received by the Cady,
Soon he assembled the gay bridal train,
And bringing the veil as desired by the lady,
Safely the towers of Carazan they gain.
XXI.
Safely they gained the bright towers of Carazan,
But with the Bride has returned the gay train —
Lo! as they pass'd the proud dwellttnig of Asan
The children beheld their lost mother again.
XXII.
Loudly they shouted: »0h, art thou returned?
Com'st thou our meals and our pastimes to share?
0, for thy absence how long have we mourned!
Pass on no further — thy children are here.«
XXIII.
At the fond voices a sudden pause-made she —
»Rein in your steeds these loved turrets below« —
Thus to the gallants in agony said she —
»Till my last gifts on my babes I bestow.«
XXIV.
Beneath the proud turrets the bridal train rested
While her last gifts on her babes she bestow'd,
While she the boys with rich girdles invested,
And with gay sabres with jewels that glowed.
XXV.
Deck'd she her daughters in silks richly rustling;
And for those days when his strength might them wield,
To the dear suckling in her bosom close nestling
Gave she a girdle, a sabre, a shield.
XXVI.
All this from beside saw the stern Asan Aga,
And loud to his children he haughtily cried —
Away from that woman more false than the Vaga,
More light than the breeze, and more cold than its tide.«
XXVII.
Away fled the children for fear loudly crying,
All but the suckling she clasp'd to her breast —
Down sunk the Lady pale, shivering and dying,
Grasp'd it yet closer — and sunk into rest.
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