In Grandista, three young maidens
Were gathering chamomile.
They heard some thunderclaps
Before the sun had set.
On the ridge of Eleo lightning flashed,
In Strebreno it thundered,
In Zelenich rain was falling,
And Gurlo could not contain it.
The rain grew stronger,
The rocks began to roll,
The torrent swelled and raged,
Flooding all the fields.
They climbed upon a hillside,
Trying to save themselves,
But the mountainside collapsed upon them,
And they could not escape.
“Spare me, Grandista,
I have a husband who loves me—
He loves me faithfully;
The poor man will mourn me.”
“Spare me too, I beg you,
For they will search for me.
I have a sister and a brother—
They will mourn for me.”
And the third one also cried,
When she saw the mountain rolling down:
“I have a mother all alone—
She will mourn for me.”
And the mountain answered
Without any doubt—
It lashed them with heavy rain
Without the slightest remorse.
The husband mourns for a year,
The siblings for three years—
But your mother
Will mourn you forever.
From the collection's own note: the images with these poems are AI-created artistic renderings by the source, not historical photographs.