Hanging on the gallows. Dry as coarse hay.
Hanging on the prison wall. A wall of shame.
Black villainous pit under it, of ill fame,
Place of murder, dark as the foulest play.
I saw that hem somewhere, one rural day,
For my mother's face had that kind of a frame,
And similar eyes I had seen on a dame:
To what a place had I been led astray!
And in her stead I jumped in that fatal hole
And with her bloodied sweat wet as a dark shoal,
As with tears, my insolent cheek I drowned.
For my sweet Croatia they hanged and disgraced,
Like a common thief, as her name is erased,
For the sake of who knows who, by lawmen in bounds!