Poems on Kosovo

“Kosovo peonies” by Milan Rakic.


What a beautiful night this is! Look, all ye,

From the poplar, oak, black locust and mulberry tree

In golden beams of bow

the immaterial moonlight falls. Now,


above the meadows where the grass scents,

in blossomed branches, from the top of the fields

which turn black after rain pelts,

the great soul of the Moon dreams.


Everything is still. Silence. The plain field is speechless in all

where once company after company used to fall…

out of much blood sprouted from long ago,

the peony, red and blue, flourishes over Kosovo.



Kosovo today / Dies irаe – The day of wrath /




Dies irae, dies illa

Solvet seculum in favilla,

Teste David cum Sibyla.


Quantus tremor est futurus,

Quando judex est venturus,

Quincta stricte discusurus.                                         


Tuba mirum spargens sonum             

Per sepulchra regionum                     

Coget omnes ante thorum.                 


Mors stupebit et natura,                     

Cum resurget creatura,          

Judicanti responsura.                         


Liber scriptus proferetur,                   

In quo totum continentur,                   

Unde mundus judicentur.                   


Judex ergo cum sedebit,                     

Quidquid latet apparebit,                   

Nil inultum remanebit.                       


Rex tremende majestatis,                    

Qui salvandos salvas gratis,               

Salva me, fons pietatis!                       



Day of wrath, O day of mourning!See fulfilled the prophet’s warning,

Heaven and earth in ashes burning.


Oh, what fear man’s bosom rendeth

When from Heav’n the Judge descendeth

On Whose sentence all dependeth!


Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth,

Through earth’s sepulchers it ringeth,

All before the throne it bringeth.


Death is struck and nature quaking;

All creation is awaking,

To its Judge an answer making.


Lo, the book, exactly worded,

Wherein all hath been recorded;

Thence shall judgment be awarded.


When the Judge His seat attaineth

And each hidden deed arraigneth,

Nothing unavenged remaineth.


King of majesty tremendous,

Who dost free salvation send us,

Fount of pity, then befriend us.


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