Uz Maršala Tita

Uz Maršala Tita (Serbo-Croatian: Uz Maršala Tita, English: With Marshal Tito) is a Yugoslav Partisan anthem about Marshal and president of SFRY Josip Broz Tito, written by Vladimir Nazor and composed by Oskar Danon.^[1]

During the World War II in Yugoslavia, the Ustaše regime in German-sponsored Independent State of Croatia (NDH) and some Bosniaks who campaigned for autonomy or independence from the NDH, claimed origins from Goths (i.e., Ostrogoths, see also theories about origin of Croats), instead of Slavs,^[2] which would make them "Aryans", and closer to the Nazi regime. The Middle stanza of this song addresses that by outright refutal of Gothic theory and by reaffirming the Slavic origins of all South Slavs.

Lyrics

Serbo-Croatian	English translation
Uz maršala Tita, junačkoga sina nas neće ni pakao smest'. Mi dižemo čelo, mi kročimo smjelo i čvrsto stiskamo pest. Rod prastari svi smo, a Goti mi nismo, Slavenstva smo drevnoga čest. Ko drukčije kaže, kleveće i laže, Našu će osjetit' pest. Sve prste na ruci u jadu i muci Partizanska stvorila je svijest. Pa sad kad i treba, do Sunca do neba Visoko mi dižemo pest.	With Marshall Tito, the heroic son not even Hell shall bother us. We raise our foreheads, we walk boldly and clench our fists hard. An ancient people we all are, Goths we are not Part of the ancient Slavdom are we. Whoever says otherwise slanders and lies, They will feel our fist. All the fingers on our hands, through misery and suffering, The Partisan mindset, has created. So now when we are to go to the Sun, or the sky, We raise our fists high.

Serbo-Croatian

English translation

Uz maršala Tita, junačkoga sina
nas neće ni pakao smest'.
Mi dižemo čelo, mi kročimo smjelo
i čvrsto stiskamo pest.

Rod prastari svi smo, a Goti mi nismo,
Slavenstva smo drevnoga čest.
Ko drukčije kaže, kleveće i laže,
Našu će osjetit' pest.

Sve prste na ruci u jadu i muci
Partizanska stvorila je svijest.
Pa sad kad i treba, do Sunca do neba
Visoko mi dižemo pest.

With Marshall Tito, the heroic son
not even Hell shall bother us.
We raise our foreheads, we walk boldly
and clench our fists hard.

An ancient people we all are, Goths we are not
Part of the ancient Slavdom are we.
Whoever says otherwise slanders and lies,
They will feel our fist.

All the fingers on our hands, through misery and suffering,
The Partisan mindset, has created.
So now when we are to go to the Sun, or the sky,
We raise our fists high.

Serbian cyrillic:

Уз маршала Tита, јуначкога сина
Нас неће ни пакао смест'.
Mи дижемо чело, ми крочимо чело смјело
И чврсто стискамо пест'

Род прастари сви смо, а готи ми нисмо
Славенства смо древнога чест.
Ко друкчије каже, клевеће и лаже
Нашу че остетит' пест.

Све прсте на руци јаду и муци
Партизанска створила је свијест.
Па сад кад и треба, до сунца до неба
Високо ми дижемо пест.

References

↑ http://www.mtsmondo.com/news/world/text.php?vest=118576
↑ Noel Malcolm, Bosnia: A Short History (1994), Chapter 1

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