morda nam bodo oblaki- rjuhe edine odeje.
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Pala na roke, obleke, prva, druga bo kaplja,
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v noc cez mocvirno poseko zakricala bo caplja.
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Trsi spiral bo lica, mocil nam usta s krpo,
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noc nam bo z mrzlim nozem rezala crnega kruha.
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Svoje misli tehtali bomo kot prhle veje,
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dokler nam soncna zarja zemlje, src ne ogreje.
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V soncu bo hosta zapela, hosta in pesem vojna:
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Brat moj, ne skrivaj lica, danes je vojna, VOJNA!
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[English translate: War Poem]
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We're going to sleep in the wind tonight,
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in the wind, who is laughing, wildly,
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and maybe the clouds, these white sheets,
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will be our only blankets.
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On hands and clothes the first,
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then second drops of rain will fall.
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In the night through the swampy clearing
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a heron will cry out.
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The stronger one will wash our faces
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and moisten our lips with a rag and the night
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with a cold knife will cut us black bread.
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We will weigh up our thoughts like rotten branches,
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until the sunny dawn warms the ground and our hearts.
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The underwood will wake up in the sun and war
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will begin its song again: Brother of mine,
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Don't hide your face, today is war, it's WAR today!
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Vojna Poema
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Laibach |