In Kosovo Polje

Over Kosovo Polje the ravens are circling
Medieval battle is all quiet now
In Kosovo Polje Slavko Zlatovic
Looks all around at the shell-battered town

In Kosovo Polje armies of old
Cut each other to pieces and there
Serbia’s shame, Serbia’s glory
Serbia’s freedom, Serbia’s horror
All mingle with fresh blood
Oozing out onto the grass

In Kosova Ahmed Bajrami is weeping
For the first time in a very long time
As he looks at the house
Where his wife lay asleep
When the shell blew it apart
In this new conflagration

In Kosovo Polje Prince Lazar lies dead
As so do so many – how many! – others
And Zdravko looks around
With tear-filled eyes
As the last day of freedom
Draws to a blood-stained close

In Kosova – beautiful, cherished,
Albanian Kosova,
Ahmed takes up the cold metal of fire
To fight for the freedom denied him by Slobo

In Kosovo Polje Slavko thinks, How?
How did we descend to such lows?
And as he looks at his Kosovo Polje
Present mingles with past on the grass

This is the place where
Where the Turks have just won
And this is the place
Where the hate is still raging

And once enslaved Serbia,
Now liberated yet shackled Serbia,
Just cannot let go of its Kosovo Polje
Where Serbian freedom lay wounded and crushed

And so it goes on in Kosovo Polje,
In beautiful, tortured,
Albanian Kosova
Where the Serb in his tank shoots at Kosovar freedom
In defense of his mis-drawn frontiers
Where the once-conquered are now on the conquest
While the ravens, as they did back then,
Circle ominously overhead