Lyrics:

Whose mother sinned so early in the morning,
if all the gods sent down rain this wouldn't have happened,
prophets guide our nature, we wander,
from the tops of the damned towers and pits of the abyss,
the view approaches the wells, stone on stone sleeps,
the cemeteries stand out with their kindness, from the windows of the towers,
eagles move parts of prey downstream,
there are no wedding guests, nor wolves go into the deeps,
there are no shepherd, nor the mutton meat,
all the saints with fish around the doorstep developed kolo,
from the top of the bell tower, Dositej throws his cap in the air and calls St. Elijah's Day,
out loud, so that the gods would hear him,
Vuk Stefanović Karadžić woke up and wrote,
harsh sky, no man's land,
and the water is clear, some of the great-grandfather's skulls,
or a rib emerges from the shallow water,
and God also hides from this place, and die behind the clouds,
black cloud over the black earth,
I look above the hornbeam, in front of Mrkonjić,
and sidelong to Krbava, on the shoulders of the wounds of the future,
I see some survivors, they go from the fire to the flood,
I'm still staring at the past, here we are and for what sin,
I got frighten of the shots in the Alkar hunt,
caught lost their voice, nor the rope for the bell,
nor bells on the bell tower, nor the hearing in the ear,
in the distance you can see large monuments in the mountains,
at the bottom, water splashes large cemeteries,
but I don't see my happy people,
neither from Kordun, nor from Banija, nor from Lika,
neither from Orthodox Dalmatia, nor from Krajina,
they moved, displaced, moved, displaced, moved, displaced...



Serbian latin:

Čija li majka toliko zgrešila u rano jutro,
da su svi bogovi spuštali kišu ne bi se ovo desilo,
proroci vodaju našu narav, tumaramo,
sa vrhova kula prokletuša i jama bezdanki,
pogled se bliži bunarima, spava kamen na kamenu,
groblja se ističu dobrotom, sa prozora kula pozobanih,
orlovi delove plena nizvodno sele,
nema svatova niti vukovi zalaze u dubinu,
nema čobana, niti mesa ovnujskoga,
svi sveti sa ribama oko kućnog praga kolo razvili,
sa vrha zvonika Dositej baca kapu u vis i priziva Ilindan,
iz sveg glasa nebi li ga bogovi čuli,
probudi se Vuk Stefanović Karadžić i zapisa,
surovog li neba, ničije li zemlje,
a vode bistre, po koja pradedovska lobanja,
ili rebro izroni iz zapraćaka,
i Bog se skriva od ovog prostora i mre iza oblaka,
crnjeg li oblaka nad crnjom zemljom,
gledam iznad graba, ispred Mrkonjića,
i bočno do Krbave, na ramenima rana budućnosti,
vidim ponekog preživelog, iz ognja odlazi u potop,
i dalje zurim u prošlost, eto nam to i za koji greh,
prenuh se od pucnjeva u alkarskom lovu,
ulovljeni izgubili glas, ni konopca za zvono,
ni zvona na zvoniku, ni sluha u uvu,
u daljini po goletima vide se veliki spomenici,
na dnu velika groblja voda pljuska,
al' ne vidim svoj veseli narod,
ni sa Korduna, ni sa Banije, ni iz Like,
ni iz Pravoslavne Dalmacije, ni iz Krajine,
odselio, raselio, odselio, raselio, odselio, raselio...