Translation of the song lyrics Bosna - Marko Perković Thompson

Bosna (original)

Pjesmo moja, pjevat ću te tamo
Tamo gdje je naša loza počela
Staroj majci kolijevci Hrvata
Gdje se nasa povijest krvlju pisala
Istina o Bosni kroz kanjone teče
I mnoge njene tajne kriju stoljeća
Od davnina na nju svak' juriša
K’o da nije dosta snjegova i kiša
Sa svih strana svijeta dolazile tvrde sile mraka
K’o da narod tamo gine iz meraka
Jučer svetinja, danas raspeta
Bosna ponosna, ranjena
Tamo gdje sunce putuje
Vjetar nosi glas, Bosna zove nas
Tamo gdje sunce putuje
Tu me čekaj ti, stara ljubavi
Kreni preko planina, starom stazom djedova
Bosna će ti reći sve, odakle nam prezime
Gledaj lijepu Lašvansku dolinu
Uvijek su je naša zvona budila
Zlatna polja, našu Posavinu
Grobovi su puni njenih sinova
Dala Bosna Tomislava kralja
Prvog kralja od loze Hrvata
A kraljica dobra bješe Katarina
U narodu zbog nje nosi se crnina
Sred Duvanjskog polja široka i ravna
Pisala se naša povijest slavna
Kada Bosni pogledaš u lice
U suzi joj vidiš drinske mučenice
Čuvali te, Bosno, usamljeni vuci
Slavio ih narod, zvali se hajduci
A Srebrnu Bosnu sačuvaše vjerom
Franjevačka braća i dušom i tijelom
Bosno moja, čija li si sada
Boli li te danas više nego prije
Tko to misli da te ima, da sa tobom vlada
Njega povijest ništa naučila nije

(translation)

My song, I will sing you there
Where our lineage began
The cradle of the Croats to the old mother
Where our history was written in blood
The truth about Bosnia flows through the canyons
And many of her secrets have been hidden for centuries
From time immemorial, everyone has been attacking her
It's like there's not enough snow and rain
Hard forces of darkness came from all over the world
It's as if the people there are dying
Yesterday holy, today crucified
Bosnia proud, wounded
Where the sun travels
The wind carries the voice, Bosnia calls us
Where the sun travels
Wait for me there, old love
Go over the mountains, the old grandfather's path
Bosnia will tell you everything, where our last name comes from
Look at the beautiful Lašva Valley
Our bells always woke her up
Golden fields, our Posavina
The graves are full of her sons
Gave Bosnia to King Tomislav
The first king of the Croat lineage
And the queen of good was Catherine
Black people wear black because of it
In the middle of the Tobacco Field, wide and flat
Our glorious history was written
When you look Bosnia in the face
You see the martyrs of Drina in her tears
Guarded you, Bosnia, lone wolves
They were celebrated by the people, they were called bandits
And he saved Silver Bosnia by faith
Franciscan brothers in body and soul
My Bosnia, whose are you now?
Does it hurt you more today than before
Who thinks he has you, to rule with you
History has taught him nothing