From ''Ima cuda - nema cuda.'' (Svjetlost, Sarajevo,1982).
When you put on your hard shoes,
Your brave boots,
Your manly shoes,
Your war boots,
You just automatically
Reach for your gun
And set out
Down muddy roads.
When the time comes for gun barrels to speak,
For heroic days, valorous nights,
When a foreign army floods your country,
And wreaks havoc and causes damage in it,
That condition must be righted:
Then you roam your homeland on foot,
And your boots fight side by side with you.
They help you a lot in war,
To play your splendid role:
To drive half away,
To take half prisoner,
Like a hunter when he finds good game,
To defend your mom, to defend your dad,
Your Dragana, Anka, Jovanka, Sonja,
Zorica, Rada, to defend your school,
And your playgrounds,
And your picnic grounds,
In a word, to defend your fatherland.
Now, there's nothing to do about it.
No foreign threat.
The war boots - wasting their days.
One feels like yawning, the other like drowsing.
They wait for you, like faithful doggies,
Till an enemy bullet comes whistling by
Till you set off on a campaign.