4th MAY 1903

That's how it was written, to dream of his death,
His cursed heatoched, clenching anger in his fists
Have you enough graves, Oh Macedonia!
One more bloody wound, Banica!

We are richer now with a new death and a fresh grave,
Unsheared tears of grief, stay proud and untold,
Extend an armpit, black earth dirty abandonment
So embrace your son who was at least a slave.

His cry resembles those who have shed enough tears.
You without tears, illness, swallow bitter sorrows.
And yet for one lost, even prouder because of his young heroism
And your children have a battle to die standing.

Cover yourself in black you sorrowful sufferer
Bite your lips, comb your hair, rip your garments.
And calmed with words, your mournful favourite.
"Silent", with your motherly cries lost.

Another death you'll never await
Your favourite son, who had only you.
A unmarried Goceva burning
Oh Macedonia, a many named wound.

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