Bosna - Marko Perković Thompson

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

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