I Dreamed of Sana Again

I Dreamed of Sana Again

Last night again I dreamed of Sana
flowing proudly on,
while Kozara, in all her beauty,
rises above Krajina strong.
River Sana, beloved shores,
my youth remained with you,
and my soul, filled with longing,
keeps watch above Bosnia too.

“It is not Sana — it is only a dream!”
— as if I heard a voice,
it is Bosnia’s cry and her tears
because we are not there!

Last night again I dreamed a song
from festive Bajram clothes,
proud people with hearts so great,
true Bosnian souls.
I hear the song and lose my breath,
for I know that melody well,
my soul would wish to sing along,
but somehow I cannot.

“It is not a song — it is only a dream!”
— as if I heard a voice,
it is Bosnia’s cry and her tears
because we are not there!

Last night again I dreamed of sabah,
woven with the call to prayer,
the scent of Bajram spreads through Bosnia
and I stand full of pride there.
I love that sabah — I love that fragrance,
I love it with all my heart,
my soul would wish, yet I am denied
to truly feel its warmth.

“It is not sabah — it is only a dream!”
— as if I heard a voice,
it is Bosnia’s cry and her tears
because we are not there!

Last night again I dreamed of mother,
gently caressing me,
and my soul trembled with happiness
resting in her embrace.
Then I heard her calling softly,
the dream becoming real:
“Come back, my son, all things shall pass,
but Bosnia will remain!”

“It is not mother — it is only a dream!”
— as if I heard a voice,
it is Bosnia’s cry and her tears
because we are not there!