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Birth Anniversary of Mesa Selimovic
What people are Bosnians
Exactly on this day 102 years ago, was born in Tuzla, one of the greatest writers who have made these areas. Those who have not failed to read the school's reading, is certainly best known for his part Dervish and Death of the castle. In this quiz, but now everyone guessed that it was a Meša Selimovic, another of the writers around who will shatter spears, would not it be zasvojatalo. Anniversary of the birth Mešinog Lupigi will celebrate his monologue, which is still painfully topical. If you've already read it, it's time to determine the material
These are smart people. Received from the unwilling East, comfortable life of the West, not rushing anywhere, because life is in a hurry, they do not care to see what is behind tomorrow, there will be as specified, and what some of them depend; together are in trouble, because and often do not like to be together, which some believe, it is easiest to fool a nice word, do not look like heroes, and most serious threat to scare them, not long to look back on anything, no matter what they are going on around them, and then suddenly everything starts to affect them, and all isprevrću turned to the head, and again become sleepers, and do not like to be remembered nothing that happened, the color changes because they often bring evil, and they easily get bored of one man, even if they and well done.
Strange world, gossip and the likes, loves and hates in the cheek and, ridicules the noble deeds and remember them through the many passes, and live with hope and good deed and does not override what you know and when. Bad, good, gentle, harsh, inflexible, storm, open, hidden, they are all and everything in between. And above all, they're mine and I theirs, as the river and drop, and all this you speak of yourself as you speak.
And we're not anybody, we're always on a border, always one's dowry. Is it any wonder that we are poor? For centuries, we are looking for and recognize, soon we will not even know who we are, but we forget that we want something, the other we are going to honor their flag because they do not have her, lure us when we needed and discarded when they serve out, saddest wilaya in the world, the unhappiest people in the world, lose your face and someone else being able to take, tear off and not accepted, and each side of those who are kin, and those of us who do not receive the rod. We live on the border between worlds, on the border between nations, each under fire, always blame someone.For us to break the waves of history, as the reef. The force has worn us out and we created a virtue: we have become wise in defiance.
What are we? Crazy? Miserable wretches? The most complex people in the world. With any history is such a joke with us. Until yesterday we were what today we want to forget. But we did not become something else. We stopped halfway, flabbergasted. We can not go to any more. We are torn off, and we accepted. As the sleeve as it is a spate river separated from its mother, and there is no flow over the mouth, too tiny to be a lake, it is too large to absorb the country. With the vague feeling of shame because of origin, and the guilt of apostasy, it will not look back, and we have nowhere to look ahead, so we reserve time for fear of any matter the decision.
Despise us and the brothers and strangers, and we defend ourselves with pride and hatred. We wanted to preserve it, and so we lose, it does not even know what we are. It is unfortunate that we are loving this and will his dead out of it. And everything is paid, and so this love.
Do we like this by accident too soft and too harsh, emotional and hard, happy and sad, always ready to surprise everyone, including yourself? Did you accidentally obscures the love, the only certainty in this uncertainty? Is not no reason we let that life passes through us, is no reason to destroy, but otherwise Ðemail, but also safe. And why do we do? Since we have not anyway. And when we do not matter, this means that we are honest. And when we are honest, we each honor our folly!
* Text taken from the portal Lupiga
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