PainAndSalvation

Ode to a Blue Sea Tomb

by Milutin Bojic

(1917)

Hail to you, imperial galleys! Restrain your


mighty rudders!


Stroke your oars silently!


I’m proudly officiating a sublime Requiem in the chill


of the night


Upon these sacred waters.

Here at the bottom, where seashells tire in sleep


And upon the dead algae peat falls, 


Stretch the graves of the brave, couched brother


beside brother,


Prometheuses of Hope, Apostles of Pain.

Don’t you feel the wafting sea,


That it may not trouble their holy repose?


From the deep abyss peaceful slumber ebbs,


And in tiring flight the moonlight slowly passes.

This is a mysterious temple and a sad graveyard


With decaying carcasses, unfathomably real.


Silent like the night on the tip of the Ionian Sea


Dark as a conscience, cold and despairing.

Don’t you feel from your most depressing moods 


That piety grows over this benediction


And the air fills with curious gentleness?


That great soul of the fallen roams

Hail to you, imperial galleys! Upon this tomb


my dear kindred ones


Veil the trumpets in mourning black.


Let your sentry, upright, chant the holy dirge


Here, where waves come to an embrace!

For the centuries will pass as the white foam


vanishes upon the sea without a trace,


And a new and great age will come in its place, 


To create a splendid home upon this grave.

But these waters, in which was shrouded 


the terrible mystery of the Epic,


these waters will be a cradle in Time of legends revealed,


Where the soul will seek out its Destiny.

Buried are here once ancient garlands


And the passing joy of more than one generation,


That’s why this cemetery lies in the shadow of waves


Between the bosom of the sea and the vault celestial.

Hail to you, imperial galleys! Extinguish the torches,


Let the oars come to a blustering rest,

And when the Requiem prayers are said, steal away


into the dark night


inaudibly and with reverential awe.

I wish for the eternal silence to rule


and for the glorious dead to hear the noise of Battles, 


And rejoice in our cries of victory, as we cast ourselves beneath


the wings of Glory upon the fields vermillion with blood.

For, there far away, battles sway


With the same blood that emanates from this resting-place:


Here above the eye of the resting lords, 


There before the son’s history is made.

That’s why I seek peace, to officiate a Requiem


without words, without tears and quiet sighs,


Mingle with the odor of powder, the perfume of incense


As we hear resound the far noise of the cannon.

Hail to you, imperial galleys! In the name


of a conscientious fast 


Glide lightly upon these sacred waters.


A Requiem I’m officiating, one that heavens


have yet to see upon these sacred waters!