Hey, hey: it's raining on the houses of Ljubljana,
and they curtain themselves in grey against the sun.
They are burning down our Edinost in Trieste.
Christ went to the League of Nations.
No, not the good and handsome one
glowing in a halo of love.
There is a Pseudochrist in Geneva.
You say it's raining in Geneva, too?
Christ went among the brown rebels,
there he stands in the grey street
banishing scribes and pharisees.
He shoots and kills.
Shoots and kills.
Oh, you sheepish, you white nation!
Will you now see yourself for what you are?
Back to Srecko Kosovel
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓
To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.
Comments1Just read this for school. Reminds me of when I read it as a kid, and still not a fan. I guess it's got some deepness to it or something, but it just doesn't hit home with me. The whole thing is a bit obscure and dreary. Dunno, could be just me. On to the next poem for homework.