Читать книгу Trusted Mole: A Soldier’s Journey into Bosnia’s Heart of Darkness - Martin Bell - Страница 8

Independence, the dream of man.

Independence, the goal of nations.

Why for Bosnia is this a contradiction?

Mother to three major creeds,

Whose devotees fight for spoils

In each other’s gardens.

Horrified is the gaze of the world

While Mother Bosnia tears herself apart.

Offspring, brothers and sisters

Are set along the route to destruction

Deaf to Reason, blind to facts.

Mother Bosnia – a cradle of riches

Now becomes the spring of discord,

History repeating itself

Maiming, killing, displacing,

Robbing of land, the rule of the gun.

Seeds of a future conflict are sown,

Mother Bosnia is torn apart

The atomic age is with us,

But Bosnia is just another name for Lepanto:

Creeds disunited and waging war.

I often wonder how God must feel

When three sons with different flags

Crave for his attention:

‘In your name I kill,

Thy will be done.’

How? By killing the other son?

Mother Bosnia is bleeding

No quarter is given.

Hate is a chameleon of chauvinistic meanings,

And the World at large watches on TV

With an attitude of:

Provided it is you and not me

You can have my sympathy.

And so, Bosnians are

The perpetrators and the victims.

While the World watches on

Mother Bosnia is torn apart.

Bernardo Stella, London 1994