It happened in a peasant's land
In the hilly Balkans,
A troop of students
Died a martyr's death
In one day.
They were all born
The same year,
Their school days went by the same,
They were taken together
To the same celebrations,
From the same diseases they were all inoculated
And they all died on the same day.
It happened in a peasant's land
In the hilly Balkans,
A troop of students
Died a martyr's death
In one day.
And fifty five minutes
Before the deathly moment
The little troop
Sat in their school desks
And solved the same, hard assignments:
How much can a traveler walk if he goes by foot...
And so on.
Their thoughts were full
And in the notebooks in their school bags
Laid a bunch of senseless
Fives and twos*.
A handful of same dreams
And same secrets
Patriotic and love ones
They clenched in the bottom of their pockets.
And everybody thought
That they'll run under the blue vault
For a long,
For a very long time,
Until they solve
All assignments in the world.
It happened in a peasant's land
In the hilly Balkans,
A class of students
Died a martyr's death
In one day.
Entire rows of boys
Took one another by the hands
And from their last school class
To the shooting they went peacefully,
As if death was nothing.
Entire rows of friends
In the same moment rose
To their eternal abode.
*-grades in the Serbian school system range from 1-5 with 1 being the lowest and 5 being the highest.
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