Corrupting of Prince Marko
Boris Starešina (text), Miloš Buci Trajković (illustration), translated from Serbian Goran Denić
Serbian Epic Poem
Year of production
About This Project
Turks are seeking for a Prince/ But him being not at sight/ Marko’s mother, sheds some light,/ she won’t lie: „ Look around, you must try. “/ And they found him in a bit,/ Not a single wants to hit,/ Their goal is reach a deal,/ How to make those folks look small,/ Each for self, and none for all./ Not naive is Turkmen’s stance,/ All they want is more than pence,/ On the matter law is firm,/ Only gold to be retained,/ Looking from a narrow mind,/ With recession at the sight./ Marko dances with his horse, oh boy,/ Appaloosa spins like toy,/ Being squeezed in Marko’s hands,/ Tickled, trickled by these steps,/ Appaloosa bursts aside, doesn’t neigh,/ He is high; it’s like forceps, not a fly./ When the Turk man talks to Prince,/ Marko’s face came to still, it’s sincere!/ They should talk on business plan,/ All of us been sheer and clear:/ “On top of what you’re getting paid/ Plus one hundred to evade!”/ “C’mon Turkmen, go away!”/ “More two hundred, and stay stray.”/ “Your mind must now be derailed!”/ “Darling Prince, grab more of gold.”/ “Dear people, please be bold,/ Why you think I can be sold?”/ “Every month you’ll get cash,/ For our business not to smash,/ Never had you such a pact,/ Doing nothing, nor react,/ Our bullying stays intact,/ And your mace is not in act.”/ Marko’s thinking, not so loud,/ If there’s something to be proud,/ He himself likes no such crowd./ “OK Turkmen, but before,/ If you want mine hand in your to land,/ Golden nuggets please present.”/ There’s a grim face and a smile,/ All three hundred they supplied,/ Heavy bag for one to drag,/ Not for Marko, Turk man chuckles,/ Almost nothing, not aware of duster knuckle./ But when Marko hits him firm,/ Not one, two will bite the dust,/ Only Marko would not trust,/ Grabs the bag filled with gold,/ Kicks the third one, makes him cold./ There they laid down on ravine,/ None of them is very keen, to be seen,/ Or to stand up, knowing not what to mean./ Jolly Marko bursts in laughter,/ “Don’t you try to bribe me after,/ Or before if ever mattered,/ Pack your things and off you go,/ Istanbul must now lay low!”/ Marko rides his fellow horse,/ Appaloosa, and his brother,/ As the songs are sung by other,/ And all gold is given rather.  
Written especially for Museum of Corruption
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