[Obuzeo me je neviđeni bijes nakon što je priznao da je zaista silovao ženu koja je spomenuta u pismu... no to nije bila cijela istina...]

Znam taj pogled u ogledalu,
rasuo se kao propast horizonta
Istina je napokon prehodala tajnu
kao što to vojnik radi od fronta do fronta

Znam - više ovaj grumen zemlje
i ovi zidovi i sve ove boje;
Više ništa ne mogu zvati svojim
jer nikad ništa nije niti bilo moje

Tuđe me ruke učile dok hodam,
Tuđe oči vidl'e prve korake što pođem,
Tuđi mi jezik lag'o, uši prve riječi čule;
Tuđeg sam čovjeka zvao svojim ocem!

A on je krao, a on je silovao
neku ženu koju nikad nisam čuo niti vid'o...
K'o otrov u venama, lopov u noći,
nejač iz naručja zlobno joj odkid'o

"Sine, ti sveti, ti se sjeti kakoj' 'mrijeti...
Sine, ti daleki, majci sveti na grudi sleti..."

Postao sam laž...
S godinu dana u naručju rođene majke pratio oca u boj;
Sjećanja naviru kao poplava, iako ne pamtim sve što se dogodilo niti tog trena,
Vidim sebe na fotografiji što mi lažni otac dao i polako slaže se slika cijela:

S dvije godine, sjećanja nemam, ali kaže mi da je bomba pala,
ubila mi babu i djeda, na licu mjesta, majka ostala
sama, kao što su majke tada ostajati same znale, klince male
odgajale bez ikoga igdje dok su muške ruke pucale na neprijatelje,
a do nekoć oruđe koristile za sađenje njive...

Do nekoć... s tri godine sirene kroz grad se ore, a ja dvorce
svoje gradim od vode i mokrog blata;
Tamo negdje daleko po ovoj zimi očevi se bore, a ja s drvećem se igram puške i odrasloga rata,
Majka sve više tone, no viče "Biće bolje..." komšinici staroj dole s prvoga sprata.

Četiri godine, noć za koji minut' ponoć, čujem vrisku, dreku, razvaljena teška vrata;
Pijane spodobe bacaju po stanu sve što nije imalo težinu i vrijednost žutog zlata...
Jedan mi prilazi dok se drugi smije, treći glasno viče: "Hoćeš biti njegov novi tata?"

S pet godina zaboravio ko sam, što sam, šesta mi došla - prošla k'o onako iz inata,
Majku mi silovanu, izmučenu izbrisala pamet bolna, k'o da je bila napravljena sva od blata;
K'o onda kad sam dvorce gradio, al' dvorci bijahu stvarni, a ovo kao da je krišom stvorila mi mašta!

Sedma godina, tamo gdje je pala bomba, izbrisala i to sjećanje, kratež dubok kao jama...
Lice neviđenog oca izblijedilo sa slike jer se nikad spominjao nije, progutala tama
i to njegovo ime, kao drvo prije zime, uvenulo i nestalo s njegovim granama.

I sve te godine prođoše k'o slova, k'o ljubav, k'o sve što u životu uvijek prođe!
Sad znam zašto pijem: Pamet zaboravlja, al' duša pamti i u srce tiho tuga dođe;
Podsjeća na prošlost, na dodir moje majke, na heroja moga oca - podsjeća i glođe:

"Pij i slušaj - ponoći ove prošlost zove... Pričam ti historije i sve tvoje familije;
Pričam ti o selu odakle tvoj je djeda nik'o, o maloj trošnoj kući prije sve ove pogibije;
Pričam ti o plugu, o smrti i o dugu njima jer zbog njih i dalje mi oremo svoje njive..."

Pričaj mi, pričaj, da Bog da nikad ne ostao bez riječi, reci mi sve pa makar bile laži otrovane,
Želim sve znati, nasilniče, o vojniku tome, što gine i potiče sa proplanka Kozare!
Reci mi ko je bio? Reci mi šta se zbilo?
Reci mi ko mi je otac bio!

"Tajna nas ruka vodi, crna ruka ka slobodi..."
"Rukama nebo hvat'o, ris'o ga iz plavoga u crnoga..."
"Još ne sviće rujna zora..."
"U planini stajali smo tiho..."
"Još ne sviće rujna zora..."
"Zar vi mislite da je Sarajevo na tom stalo...?"
"'Oj, junaci, nakon toliko godina krvi i rata..."

"Ovo je nekad bila moja kuća, ovo što gori - plamen izjeda...
Ovo je nekad bila moja kuća... Ovo je nekad bila moja kuća!"

Te strašne noći nakon Krfa vratio se svojoj kući, vid'o plamen kako gori, na koljena vrišt'o jad plačući
"Ovo što plamen izjeda, k'o udarac mi dođe pod rebra, ja gin'o da se vratim - ne sluteći, ne znajući
da su svi mi moji mrtvi, familije sve mi nema... majko, oče, ženo, dijete, vrištim šapatom im imena!

Ustajte iz tog groba, pa zar sam ja za ovo gin'o? Moja ženo, moje sveto, da sam makar ja pogin'o,
a ti živa tu uz sina, pa da gledam vas s visina, a ne mrtve, vi oboje, izvadio bih oči svoje,
Ne vidio tame, sunca, ne vidio zime, ljeta - samo da ste tu kraj mene, samo da je svo nas troje..."

Te noći pod plamenom vojnik riso crno nebo, ženu u rukama drž'o, pištolj mu u ruci živi
dok mu žena mrtva gleda - u daljini, kao kurjak, a ne čovjek, ispustio urlik k'o što urlici
nikad do sad nisu bili tolk'o glasno ispušteni; Iskopao grob dubok da mu čednu ženu primi...

Nestao u noći, jadan, gdje nestaju neviđeni, bacio sa sebe pušku, orden, rat mu besmisleni;
Progutala tama ga je, sve što im'o nestalo je, neki kažu vratio se nazad svojoj djedovini,
a neko reče, baš to veče, pucanj čuo je u tami, presudio sam je sebi, a nije znao detalj mali:

Sina mu iz koljevke ot'o dušman kog je znao, gavran crni sve to vid'o, kraj prozora se prikrao,
Gled'o godinama kako sin mu iz nejači rast'o - kao otac snažan bio, u detektiva je postao,
Sin na oca isto liči, iste oči, iste ruke,
isto ime, al' ne prezime, isto sve što je isto sa svime;
Misleć' jedno, a to nije,
ono što si bio - nisi..
Taj je vojnik otac bio, a taj sin...
od silovane majke što će joj iz ruke otet' biti...
A taj sin...
taj sin si ti...



English:

THE SMELL OF GUNPOWDER AND FIRE

[Suddenly a huge anger came over me as he was admitting to rapping a woman... but that was not the entire truth...]

I know that look in the mirror,
scattered like the doom of the horizon
The truth has finally walked over secrets
as soldier walks from one front to the other

I know - this small clod of my home,
and these walls, colors - even this glass of wine,
I can no longer call anything my own
because nothing has ever really been mine

Other man's hands taught me as I walk,
Other man's eyes saw the first steps I took,
Stranger's tongue lied, strangers ears heard my first words;
I called that same stranger my own father!

And he stole, and he raped
some woman I have never heard or seen her charms...
Like poison in his veins, a thief in the night,
He viciously snatched baby from her arms

"Son and all the saints, please remember how it is to die...
Son, my distant son, I pray to saints so you can hear my cry..."

I became a lie...
At the age of one in my mother's arms I've sent off my father to war;
Memories flood in like river, although I don't remember everything that happened even at that moment,
But I see myself in the photo that my fake father gave me and slowly the whole picture comes together:

At the age of two, I have no memories, but he tells me that the bomb fell,
killed my grandparents on the spot, my mother ended up alone
as mothers used to end up like that and had to raise their kids
without anyone anywhere to help;
While our fathers defended our country with arms,
and until recently, they only did that to plow their farms..

Once upon a time, at the age of three, sirens screamed through the city while I was building castles;
I built mine from water and wet mud;
Somewhere far away in this winter, fathers are fighting, and I'm playing guns and faking all the blood, screaming "War!"
The mother becomes quiet with each new day, but still shouts "It will get better..." to the old neighbor downstairs on the first floor.

The night - almost a midnight, I hear a screams and shouts, a heavy door being thrown;
Drunken idiots threw around the apartment everything that did not have the weight and value of yellow gold...
One approaches me while the other laughs, the third shouts loudly: "Do you want to be his new dad?"
I was four years old.

At the age of five I forgot who and what I was, the sixth year came and passed and I didn't even realized that.
My raped and tortured mother was erased from my mind, as if she was made entirely out of mud;
Like when I used to build castles, but the castles were real, and this was as if my imagination had created that!

The seventh year, where the bomb fell and killed my grandparents, that memory was erased too, deep as pit...
The face of the unseen father faded from the picture because he was never mentioned, as if he was swallowed by darkness...
He and his name faded, like a tree and leaves before winter, withered and disappeared with their branches.

And all those years passed like letters, like words, like love, like everything that always passes in life!
Now I know why I drink: The mind forgets, but the soul remembers and sadness comes quietly to the heart;
It reminds me of the past, of my mother's touch, of my father who was a hero - it reminds me even more:

"Drink and listen - at midnight the past is calling... I'm telling you stories about all your past families;
I'm telling you about the village where your grandfather came from, about a small house before all this came to be;
I'm telling you about the plow, about death and about all the debt to them... its because of them we still plow our fields..."

Tell me, tell me, may God gives you wisdom so you never run out of the words, tell me everything, even if the words are poisoned,
I want to know everything, you bastard, about the soldier, who came and died from the glade of mountain Kozara!
Tell me who is my father? Tell me what happened?
Tell me who he was? Tell me who my father was!

"The secret hand is guiding, guiding us towards our freedom..."
"I'm holding skies with my hands, coloring them from blue to black..."
"Red dawn is still not dawning..."
"On this mountain, we were standing silently..."
"Red dawn is still not dawning..."
"Do you think that Sarajevo will stop at this...?"
""You giants and heroes! After so many years waging this war..."

"Ages ago this was my house... Now it burns, engulfed in flames..."
This used to be my house... This used to be my house!

That terrible night after war ended, he returned to his house, saw the flames burning, fell on his knees screaming and crying:
"Everything that flame now eats, as if a blow came under my ribs, I almost died to return - not suspecting, not knowing;
All my closest are dead, my family is gone... mother, father, wife, child - I scream their names, but only whisper's growing..."

"Get up from those graves, did I almost died for this? My wife, my beloved saint, I'd give everything for me to perish
and you live happy with our son while I'm watching you from skies above... to be alive, I'd give sacrifice, I would goudge my own eyes -
never to see dark nor light, never to see winter nor summer - if only you were by my side, if only there were all three of us..."

That night, holding skies with hands, the soldier drew them all black; with his wife in one arm and the gun in the other,
his wife's eyes focused on the heaven. In the distance, like a beast, not a man, he lets not a cry, but a howl,
a howl so loud all the beasts were scared; For his beloved he dug a deep grave...

He went into the night, that soldier, where the unseen go - threw away his rifle, helmet, knife, this meaningless war behind him,
Darkness swallowed him, everything he had disappeared, some say he returned to his grandfathers small, old house;
Others said, that very evening, they've heard a shot in the night:
"He killed himself", they've shouted, hoping he knew small detail about his child and spouse:

His son was taken from the cradle by a neighbour next door, the black raven saw it all, crept up by the window,
He watched for years how his son grew from being weak - to strong, from small, scared child to detective, oh so young.
The son looked the same as the father, the same eyes, the same hands,
the same name, but not the surname, the same everything in every tiny little detail.
You thought you were this, made from this clot,
yes, you thought this - but that you are not..
That soldier was the husband, the father
and that son... from a raped mother,
stolen from her hands, he suddenly grew...
That son from that cradle...
That son is you...