poet Ratko Petrovic

Ratko Petrovic

Braco, Dusmani

Krvlju ste nasom, natopili svoju slobodnu zemlju.
I kakvi plodovi ocekujete da ce rasti?
Vas zrak vonja, na budj i memlu,
trule ce vocke, s vaseg drveca pasti.

Umesto da sejete zivot, iz vasih klica,
znjecete uvek krvavu zetvu,
vasi ce sinovi, u zitu svome videti lica,
onih, ciju ste prizvali poslednju kletvu.

Krvavim nozevima, secete hleb beli,
za sinove, i unuke svoje,
slavite zemlju, sto ste od vajkada hteli,
al' ovozemaljske se bitke, ni ne broje.

I osim par mudrih, lazi za sebe,
necete imati, sta Bogu reci.
ispod te himne, savest vas grize i grebe,
a, istina ce vas uvek, uvek, peci.

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Poem Edited: Friday, January 14, 2011

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Maya Angelou

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