Resources: A Bit About the Balkans

This has been one of my favorite poems in the world since I was six or seven. It's a grown-up poem, but I was a precocious little kid.

It was written by the Yugoslavian poet laureate, Desanka Maksimovic, probably in the 60s or 70s. I've kept wanting to share it with friends, but could never find an adequate translation online. So I wrote one.

The Balkanian
By Desanka Maksimovic
Translation by Nela Suka

I am not ashamed to be,
as you say,
a barbarian from the Balkans,
from the land of filth and turmoil.
Hear now,
even among us, there is some
(to you unfamiliar) culture.

You first inquire and doubt,
you are distant even from your own sons,
you do not seat at your table
just any stranger;
you can drink
without offering everyone
a glass of wine.

And with us, the old, rough customs still prevail:
we let everyone under your roof,
we still kiss to greet even our opponents,
we make grand gestures for the sake of hospitality;
with us, every man has
an entire tribe
of friends and relatives.

You, indeed, have
a few million statues of Christ,
one for every single person,
they are in roads and fields, in jails and schools;
and with us, when people believe in God,
they carry him inside themselves,
and very quietly,
almost in their sleep, do they pray to him.

You, indeed, for every corner of life
possess gadgets and machinery,
you have calculated everything and know everything,
your inventions are truly to be admired;
while we still have our old-time tools,
but everything here is still healthy
and as natural as clay:
both death, and birth, and living.

You have a whole collection
of rules and studies about freedom,
there is writing and oration about everything;
but we, by some unwritten laws,
live freely
and stick to some sort of natural order,
similar to the hearth, the wind, and the water.

With you, really, everything is exactly prescribed,
how to eat, speak, and wear one's clothes;
and we, when we talk, shout
and we wave our hands,
and we slurp our soups loudly,
and wearing gloves, we feel tormented.

With us, all is really fairly simple:
the footwear we don is made of pigskin,
there are many 'country'
habits and things;
and even our royal ancestors
were herders of cattle.

Our people, honestly, can slaughter when enraged,
can demolish and burn,
but we are not the kind who premeditatedly oppress,
we do not consider the whole world
our playing field;
we could not endure or allow
even an aborigine from the rainforest to cry because of us;
our soul is vast,
even though we are small in number.

The original, in Serbocroatian:

Balkanac

Desanka Maksimović

Ne stidim se što sam,
kako vi velite,
varvarin sa Balkana,
tla prljavštine i bure.
Čujte sad,
i kod nas ima neke
vama nepoznate kulture.

Vi prvo ispitujete i sumnjate,
daleki ste i od rođenih sinova,
za trpezu svoju
ne posadite svakog tuđina;
vi možete da pijete
a da svakom ne pružite
čašu vina.

A kod nas su još stari običaji grubi:
mi puštamo svakog pod svoje sleme,
kod nas se još i s namernikom ljubi,
kod nas se podvizi zbog gostoljublja čine;
kod nas svaki čovek ima
čitavo pleme
prijatelja i rodbine.

Vi, doista, imate
nekoliko miliona Hristovih kipova,
na svakog čoveka po jednoga,
imaju ga drumovi i polja, apsane i škole;
a kod nas, kad ljudi veruju u Boga,
u sebi ga nose,
i tiho mu se,
skoro u snu, mole.

Vi, istina, za svaki kut života
imate sprava i mašina,
sve ste sračunali i sve znate;
izumi su vaši za divljenje;
a mi još imamo starinske alate,
ali sve je kod nas još zdravo
i prirodno kao glina:
i umiranje, i rađanje, i življenje.

Vi imate čitave zbirke
pravila i nauka o slobodi,
o svemu se kod vas piše i pripoveda;
ali mi i po nepisanim zakonima
slobodno živimo
i nekog prirodnog držimo se reda,
slično ognju, vetru, i vodi.

Kod vas je, zbilja, sve tačno propisano,
kako se jede, govori, oblači;
a mi, kad govorimo, vičemo
i mašemo rukama,
i čorbu glasno srčemo,
i u rukavicama smo kao na mukama.

Sve je kod nas zaista prosto:
obuću nosimo od svinjske kože,
puno je kod nas seljačkih
navika i stvari;
i kraljevski preci naši
doista su bili govedari.

Narod naš, zbilja, u gnevu može da kolje,
ruši i pali;
ali mi nismo oni što smišljeno tlače,
mi ne smatramo da je svet celi
naše polje;
mi ne bismo podneli
ni urođenik prašuski da zbog nas plače;
duša nam je prostrana,
iako smo brojem mali.

Source: http://guskova.ru/q?a=l&doc=/~mladich/Desanka_Maksimovich/balkanac