Ženidba kralja Vukašina
The Wedding of King Vukašin

Serbocroatian English
Knjigu piše žura Vukašine
u bijelu Skadru na Bojani,
te je šalje na Hercegovinu
bijelome gradu Pirlitoru,
Pirlitoru prema Durmitoru,
Vidosavi, ljubi Momčilovoj;
tajno piše, a tajno joj šalje,
u knjizi joj ovako besjedi:
»Vidosava, Momčilova ljubo,
šta ćeš u tom ledu i snijegu?
Kad pogledaš s grada iznad sebe,
ništa nemaš lijepo viđeti,
već bijelo brdo Durmitora,
okićeno ledom i snijegom
usred ljeta, kao usred zime;
kad pogledaš strmo ispod grada:
mutna teče Tara valovita,
ona valja drvlje i kamenje,
na njoj nema broda ni ćuprije,
a oko nje borje i mramorje;
već ti otruj vojvodu Momčila,
il’ ga otruj, ili mi ga izdaj,
hodi k meni u primorje ravno
bijelome Skadru na Bojanu,
uzeću te za vjernu ljubovcu,
pa ćeš biti gospođa kraljica,
presti svilu na zlatno vreteno,
svilu presti, na svili sjediti,
a nositi divu i kadivu
i još ono sve žeženo zlato;
a kakav je Skadar na Bojani!
Kad pogledaš brdu iznad grada,
sve porasle smokve i masline
i još oni grozni vinogradi;
kad pogledaš strmo ispod grada,
al’ uzrasla šenica bjelica,
a oko nje zelena livada,
kroz nju teče zelena Bojana,
po njoj pliva riba svakojaka,
kad gođ hoćeš, daje taze jedeš.«
Dođe knjiga ljubi Momčilovoj;
knjigu gleda ljuba Momčilova,
onu gleda, drutu sitnu piše:
»Gospodine, kralju Vukašine,
nije lasno izdati Momčila,
ni izdati, niti otrovati:
u Momčila sestra Jevrosima,
gotovi mu to gospodsko jelo,
prije njega jelo ogleduje;
u Momčila devet mile braće
i dvanaest prvobratučeda,
oni njemu rujno vino služe,
prije njega svaku čašu piju;
Momčil’ ima konja Jabučila,
Jabučila konja krilatoga;
kud gođ hoće, prelećeti može;
u Momčila sablja sa očima;
ne boji se nikoga do Boga.
Već me ču lg, kralju Vukašine,
ti podigni mlogu silnu vojsku,
izvedi je na Jezera ravna,
pak zasjedni u gori zelenoj;
u Momčila čudan nauk ima,
svako jutro u svetu neđelju
, rano rani u lov na Jezera,
s’ sobom vodi devet mile braće
i dvanaest prvobratučeda
i četrest od grada levera;
kada bude uoči neđelje,
ja ću spalit krila Jabučilu,
britku ću mu sablju zatopiti,
zatopiti onom slanom krvlju,
da se ne da izvadit iz kora;
tako ćeš ti pogubit Momčila.«
Kada kralju taka knjiga dođe,
te on viđe što mu knjiga kaže,
to je njemu vrlo milo bilo,
pa on diže mlogu silnu vojsku,
ode s vojskom na Hercegovinu,
izvede je na Jezera ravna,
pak zasjede u gori zelenoj.
Kad je bilo uoči neđelje,
Momčil’ ode u svoju ložnicu,
pa on leže u meke dušeke.
Malo prođe, i ljuba mu dođe,
ali neće u meke dušeke,
već mu roni suze više glave.
A nju pita vojvoda Momčilo:
»Vidosava, moja vjerna ljubo,
kaka ti je golema nevolja
te mi roniš suze više glave?«
Al’ govori mlada Vidosava:
»Gospodaru, Momčilo vojvoda,
meni nije nikake nevolje,
već sam čula jedno čudno čudo,
čula jesam, al’ nisam viđela,
da ti imaš konja Jabučila,
Jabučila, konja krilatoga,
ja ne viđeh tvome konju krila,
te ne mogu mlada vjerovati;
već se bojim, hoćeš poginuti.«
Mudar bješe vojvoda Momčilo,
mudar bješe, al’ se prevario,
svojoj ljubi tako besjedio:
»Vidosava, vjerna moja ljubo,
za to ću te lasno utješiti,
ti ćeš lasno viđet čilu krila:
kada prvi zapjevaju p’jevci,
ti otidi u nove ahare,
tad će čile popuštiti krila,
tad mu možeš krila sagledati.«
Pak on leže sanak boraviti.
Momčil’ spava, ljuba mu ne spava,
veće sluša mlada u dušeku
kad će prvi p’jevci zapjevati.
A kad prvi p’jevci zapjevaše,
skoči mlada iz meka dušeka;
zapalila fenjer i svijeću,
pa uzima loja i katrana,
ode pravo u nove ahare.
Al’ istina što Momčilo kaže:
Jabučilo krila popuštio,
popuštio krila do kopita.
Tade ona krila namazala,
namaza ih lojem i katranom,
pa svijećom krila zapalila,
te sapali krila Jabučilu;
što ne mogla vatrom sagoreti,
to pod kolan pritegnula tvrdo;
onda mlada ode u riznicu,
dovatila sablju Momčilovu,
te je slanom natopila krvlju,
pak se vrnu u meke dušeke.
Kad ujutru zora zab’jelila,
poranio vojvoda Momčilo,
pa govori ljubi Vidosavi:
»Vidosava, moja vjerna ljubo,
ja sam noćas čudan san usnio,
đe se povi jedan pramen magle
od proklete zemlje Vasojeve,
pak se savi oko Durmitora;
ja udarih kroz taj pramen magle
sa mojijeh devet mile braće
i s dvanaest prvobratučeda
i četrest od grada levera,
u magli se, ljubo, rastadosmo,
rastadosmo, pak se ne sastasmo,
neka Bog zna, dobra biti neće.«
Veli njemu ljuba Vidosava:
»Ne boj mi se, mili gospodaru!
Dobar junak dobar san usnio;
san je laža, a Bog je istina.«
Opremi se vojvoda Momčilo,
pa on siđe niz bnjelu kulu;
dočeka ga devet mile braće
i dvanaest prvobratučeda
i četrest od grada levera,
a ljuba mu izvede čilaša,
dobrijeh se konja dovatiše,
otidoše u lov na Jezera.
Kad su bili nadomak Jezera,
opteče ih ona silna vojska.
Kad Momčilo opazio vojsku,
on poteže sablju od bedrice,
al’ se pusta ne da izvaditi,
kao da je za kore prirasla.
Onda reče vojvoda Momčilo:
»Čujete li, moja braćo draga,
izdade me kuja Vidosava,
no dajte mi sablju ponajbolju!«
Hitro su ga braća poslušala,
dadoše mu sablju ponajbolju,
pa je Momčil’ braći besjedio;
»Čujete li, moja braćo draga,
vi udrite vojsci po krajima,
ja ć’ udarit vojsci po srijedi.«
Mili Bože, čuda velikoga!
Da je kome pogledati bilo
kako s’ječe vojvoda Momčilo,
kako krči druma niz planinu;
više tlači konjic Jabučilo
neg’ što Momčil’ britkom sabljom sj’eče;
al’ ga loša sreća susretnula:
kad iziđe prema Pirlitoru,
susrete ga devet vranih konja,
a na njima brata ni jednoga!
To kad viđe vojvoda Momčilo,
u junaku srce prepuknulo,
od žalosti za braćom rođenom,
bijele mu malaksaše ruke,
te ne može više da siječe,
već udara konja Jabučila,
udara ga čizmom i mamuzom,
da poleti gradu Pirlitoru,
al’ mu konjic polećet ne može;
kune njega vojvoda Momčilo:
»Jabučilo, izjeli te vuci!
Isšale smo odavde lećeli,
bez nevolje, tek od obijesti,
a danas mi polećeti nećeš!«
Al’ mu konjic njiskom odgovara:
»Gospodaru, vojvoda Momčilo,
nit’ me kuni niti me nagoni,
danas tebi polećet ne mogu;
Bog ubio tvoju Vidosavu!
Ona mi je sapalila krila;
što ne mogla vatrom sagoreti,
to pod kolan pritegnula tvrdo;
veće bježi kuda tebi drago!«
Kad to začu vojvoda Momčilo,
proli suze niz junačko lice,
pa odskoči od konja čilaša,
triput skoči, do grada doskoči,
ali gradu vrata zatvorena,
zatvorena i zamandaljena!
Kad se Momčil’ viđe ia nevolji,
on dozivlje sestru Jevrosimu:
»Jevrosima, moja mila sejo,
pušti meni jednu krpu platna,
ne bih li ti u grad utekao.«
Seja bratu kroz plač odgovara:
»A moj brate, vojvoda Momčilo,
kako ću ti puštit krpu platna,
kad je meni snaha Vidosava,
moja snaha, tvoja nevjernica,
savezala kose za direke?«
Al’ je sestra srca žalostiva,
žao joj je brata rođenoga,
ona ciknu, kako ljuta guja,
manu glavom i ostalom snagom,
iz glave je kose iščupala,
ostavila kose na direku,
pa dovati jednu krpu platna,
preturi je gradu niz bedene.
Momčil’ vati onu krpu platna,
pa se penje gradu uz bedene,
gotov’ bješe u grad uskočiti;
al’ doleće ljuba nevjernica,
oštru sablju nosi u rukama,
pres’ječe mu platno više ruku,
Momčil’ pade gradu niz bedene,
kraljeve ga dočekaše sluge
na mačeve i na koplja bojna,
na nadžake i na buzdovane;
a dopade kralju Vukašine,
udari ga onim bojnim kopljem,
udari ga posred srca živa,
al’ govori vojvoda Momčilo:
»Amanet ti, Vukašine kralju:
ti ne uzmi moju Vidosavu,
Vidosavu, moju nevjernicu,
jer ć’ i tvoju izgubiti glavu:
danas mene u tebe izdala,
a sjutra će tebe u drugoga;
već ti uzmi moju milu seju,
seju moju milu, Jevrosimu,
ona će ti svagda vjerna biti,
rodiće ti, ko i ja, junaka.«
To govori vojvoda Momčilo,
to govori, a s dušom se bori,
to izusti, laku dušu pusti.
Kad pogibe Momčilo vojvoda,
a gradu se otvoriše vrata,
pak iziđe kuja Vidosava
te dočeka kralja Vukašina,
odvede ga na bijelu kulu,
posadi ga u stolove zlatne,
ugosti ga vinom i rakijom
i gospodskom svakom đakovijom,
pa otide u riznicu mlada,
iznese mu ruho Momčilovo,
Momčilovo ruho i oružje.
Al’ da vidiš čuda velikoga!
Što Momčilu bilo do koljena,
Vukašinu po zemlji se vuče!
što Momčilu taman kalpak bio,
Vukašinu na ramena pada!
što Momčilu taman čizma bila,
tu Vukašin obje noge meće!
što Momčilu zlatan prsten bio,
tu Vukašin tri prsta zavlači!
što Momčilu taman sablja bila,
Vukašinu s’ aršin zemljom vuče!
što Momčilu taman džeba bila,
kralj se pod njom ni dignut ne može!
Tad govori kralje Vukašine:
»Avaj meni, do Boga miloga!
Nuto kurve, mlade Vidosave!
Kad izdade ovakvog junaka,
koga danas u svijetu nema,
to li mene sjutra izdat neće!«
Pa poviknu svoje vjerne sluge,
uvatiše kuju Vidosavu,
svezaše je konjma za repove,
odbiše ih ispod Pirlitora,
te je konji živu rastrgoše.
Kralj pohara dvore Momčilove,
pa on uze sestru Momčilovu,
po imenu dilber-Jevrosimu,
odvede je Skadru na Bojanu,
i vjenča je sebi za ljubovcu.
S njom lijepi porod izrodio,
porodio Marka i Andriju,
a Marko se turi na ujaka,
na ujaka, vojvodu Momčila.
The runt Vukašin wrote a letter
in white Skadar on the Bojana,
then sent it to Herzegovina,
to the white city of Pirlitor,
to Pirlitor up towards Durmitor,
to Vidosava, the love of Momčilo;
he wrote in secret, and sent to her in secret,
in the letter he addressed her like this:
»Vidosava, Momčilo’s love,
what do you want with that ice and snow?
When you look out above you from the city,
you have nothing beautiful to see,
just the white hill of Durmitor,
decked with ice and snow
in the middle of summer, as in the middle of winter;
when you look steeply down below the city:
the rippling Tara flows turbidly,
it rolls trees and stones along,
over it there’s neither ford nor bridge,
and around it just pine-woods and marble;
but just you poison voievod Momčilo,
either poison him, or betray him to me,
come over to me on the flat sea-country
to white Skadar on the Bojana,
I will take you for my faithful love,
and you will be a lady queen,
will spin silk on a golden spindle,
will spin silk, will sit on silk,
and wear brocade and velvet
and also all that melt-purified gold;
and what a city is Skadar on the Bojana!
When you look at the hill above the city,
it’s all figs and olives that have grown,
and still more, those vineyards of grapes;
when you look steeply down below the city,
you find the white wheat has grown in,
and around it a green meadow,
through it flows the green Bojana,
upon it swims every kind of fish,
for you to eat fresh whenever you want.«
The letter came to Momčilo’s love;
Momčilo’s love looked at the letter,
looked at that one, wrote another one out tiny:
»Lord, o king Vukašin,
it isn’t easy to betray Momčilo,
neither to betray him, nor to poison him:
Momčilo has a sister Jevrosima,
she prepares that lordly food of his,
she tastes the food before him;
Momčilo has nine dear brothers
and twelve paternal uncles’ sons,
they serve him crimson wine,
they drink from each cup before him;
Momčilo has a horse Jabučilo,
Jabučilo, a winged horse;
he can fly over to wherever he wants;
Momčilo has a saber with eyes,
he doesn’t fear anyone but God.
But you just listen to me, king Vukašin,
you raise a great mighty army,
lead it out to flat Jezera,
then set an ambush in the green forest;
Momčilo has a strange custom,
every morning on Holy Sunday
he gets up early to go on the hunt in Jezera,
with him he leads his nine dear brothers
and twelve paternal uncles’ sons
and forty soldiers of the city;
when it is the eve of Sunday,
I will burn away Jabučilo’s wings,
I will douse his keen saber,
douse it in that salty blood,
so that it can’t be pulled from its sheath;
that’s how you will kill Momčilo.«
When such a letter reached the king,
and he saw what the letter said to him,
that was very pleasing to him,
so he raised a great mighty army,
set off with his army to Herzegovina,
led it out to flat Jezera,
then set an ambush in the green forest.
When it was the eve of Sunday,
Momčilo went off to his bedchamber,
then he lay down in the soft cushions.
A little time passed, and his love came,
but she wouldn’t come to the soft cushions,
but let fall tears above his head.
But voievod Momčilo asked her:
»Vidosava, my faithful love,
what enormous misfortune have you met
that you let fall tears above my head?«
But the young Vidosava said:
»O my lord, Momčilo the voievod,
I have not met any misfortune,
but I have heard one wondrous wonder,
I have heard, but I have not seen,
that you have a horse Jabučilo,
Jabučilo, a winged horse,
I did not see wings on your horse,
so, young as I am, I can’t believe it;
but rather I fear you will die.«
Voievod Momčilo was wise,
he was wise, but he was tricked,
he addressed his love like this:
»Vidosava, my faithful love,
on that matter I will easily satisfy you,
you will easily see the dapple-grey’s wings:
when the first roosters crow,
go to the new stables,
then the dapple-grey will let down his wings,
then you can take sight of his wings.«
Then he lay down to sojourn in a dream.
Momčilo slept, his love didn’t sleep,
but, young as she was, in the cushion she listened
for when the first roosters would crow.
But when the first roosters crowed,
she leapt up young from the soft cushion;
she lit a lantern and a candle,
then took tallow and tar,
went straight to the new stables.
And it was true, what Momčilo said:
Jabučilo let down his wings,
let down his wings to his hooves.
Then she smeared the wings,
smeared them with tallow and tar,
then lit the wings with her candle,
and burned away Jabučilo’s wings;
what she could not burn with fire,
that she tightened firmly under the saddle-girth;
then, young as she was, she went to the treasury,
grabbed the saber of Momčilo,
and doused it in salty blood,
then returned to her soft cushions.
When, in the morning, the dawn whitened,
Voievod Momčilo got up,
then spoke to his love Vidosava:
»Vidosava, my faithful love,
this night I have dreamed a strange dream,
where a wisp of fog curled out
from the accursed land of Vasoje’s,
then bent itself around Durmitor;
I struck out through that wisp of fog
with my nine dear brothers
and with my twelve paternal uncles’ sons
and forty soldiers of the city,
in the fog, my love, we separated,
we separated, then never met again,
may God know it won’t be good.«
His love Vidosava said to him:
»Don’t be afraid, my dear lord!
A good hero has dreamed a good dream;
dreams are lies, but God is the truth.«
Voievod Momčilo got himself ready,
then he descended down the white tower;
his nine dear brothers awaited him
and his twelve paternal uncles’ sons
and forty soldiers of the city,
but his love led out his dapple-grey steed,
they grabbed onto their good horses,
went on the hunt in Jezera.
When they were in reach of Jezera,
that mighty army flowed out around them.
When Momčilo took note of the army,
he pulled at his saber from his thigh,
but, futile thing, it wouldn’t come out,
as if it had grown into its sheath.
Then voievod Momčilo said:
»Do you hear, my dear brothers?
Vidosava has betrayed me, the bitch,
but give me the best of your sabers!«
Quickly his brothers obeyed him,
they gave him the best of their sabers,
then Momčilo addressed his brothers:
»Do you hear, my dear brothers?
You strike the army at the flanks,
I will strike the army at the center.«
Dear God, a great wonder!
If anyone could have seen
how voievod Momčilo sliced,
how he cleared a highway down the mountain;
Jabučilo the horse trampled down more
than Momčilo sliced with his keen saber;
but an ill fortune met him:
when he came out toward Pirlitor,
nine raven-black horses met him,
and on them was not one of his brothers!
When voievod Momčilo saw that,
the heart in the hero broke
from grief for his born brothers,
his white hands lost their strength,
so that he could slice no longer,
but he struck his horse Jabučilo,
struck with his boot and spur,
to fly off to the city of Pirlitor,
but his horse could not fly off;
Voievod Momčilo cursed him:
»Jabučilo, may you be eaten by wolves!
We’ve flown away from here as a joke,
when there was no misfortune, even out of wantonness,
but now you won’t fly off for me!«
But his little horse answered with a whinny:
»O my lord, voievod Momčilo,
neither curse me, nor spur me on,
today I can’t fly off for you:
may God kill your Vidosava!
She burned away my wings;
what she could not burn with fire,
that she tightened firmly under the saddle-girth;
but now run away, wherever it suits you!«
When voievod Momčilo heard that,
he spilled tears down his hero’s face,
then leapt away from his dapple-grey horse,
as he leapt three times, he leapt up to the city,
but the gates of the city were shut,
shut and bolted!
When Momčilo saw he was in trouble,
he called to his sister Jevrosima:
»Jevrosima, my dear sister,
lower down one linen rag for me,
or I won’t escape into your city.«
The sister answered her brother through tears:
»Ah my brother, voievod Momčilo,
how can I lower down a linen rag for you,
when my sister-in-law Vidosava,
my sister-in-law, your faithless love,
has tied my hair to the beams?«
But the sister was compasionate in her heart,
she was sorry for her born brother,
she squealed like an angry adder,
swung with her head and the rest of her strength,
she tore the hair from her head,
left her hair on the beams,
then grabbed a rag of linen,
tumbled it down the ramparts of the city.
Momčilo grabbed that linen rag,
then he climbed up the ramparts of the city,
he was just about to jump into the city,
but his faithless love came flying,
a sharp saber she carried in her hands,
she severed the linen above his hand,
Momčilo fell down the ramparts of the city,
the king’s servants awaited him
on their swords and their battle-lances,
on their axes and their maces;
and he fell before king Vukašin,
who struck him with that battle-lance,
struck him in the middle of his living heart;
but voievod Momčilo spoke:
»One last bequest for you, king Vukašin:
do not take my Vidosava,
Vidosava, my faithless love,
for she will make you lose your head too:
today she has betrayed me to you,
but tomorrow she’ll betray you to another;
but take my dear sister,
my dear sister, Jevrosima,
she will always be faithful to you,
she will bear you a hero like me.«
This said voievod Momčilo,
this he said, and struggled with his soul,
having uttered this, he let his light soul go.
When Momčilo the voievod perished,
and the gates of the city opened,
then the bitch Vidosava came out
and waited for king Vukašin,
led him off to the white tower,
planted him at golden tables,
hosted him with wine and brandy
and every lordly delicacy,
then, young as she was, she went to the treasury,
carried out Momčilo’s garments to him,
Momčilo’s garments and weapons.
But if you could see the great wonder!
What, for Momčilo, reached to the knees
trailed on the ground for Vukašin!
What, for Momčilo, was a perfect-fitting cap
fell to the shoulders for Vukašin!
What, for Momčilo, was a perfect-fitting boot,
Vukašin could put both legs inside!
What, for Momčilo, was a golden ring,
Vukašin could pull three fingers through!
What, for Momčilo, was a perfect-sized saber
trailed a yard along the ground for Vukašin!
What, for Momčilo, was a perfect-fitting coat of mirror armor,
the king couldn’t even stand up underneath it!
Then king Vukašin spoke:
»Alas for me, by dear God!
See the whore, the young Vidosava!
If she could betray a hero like this one,
whom there’s no one like in the world today,
how could she not betray me tomorrow!«
Then he cried out to his faithful servants,
they grabbed the bitch Vidosava,
they tied her to the tails of horses,
they drove them off under Pirlitor,
and the horses quartered her alive.
The king plundered the courts of Momčilo,
then he took Momčilo’s sister,
by the name of Jevrosima the Fair,
led her off to Skadar on the Bojana,
and wedded her to be his love.
He begat a beautiful brood with her,
delivered Marko and Andrija,
but Marko took after his uncle,
his uncle, the voievod Momčilo.