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 složila 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 stop us. We raise our foreheads, we walk boldly and clench our fists hard. Of an ancient kindred we are, but Goths we are not Part of ancient Slavdom are we. Whoever says otherwise slanders and lies, will feel our fist. All the fingers upon our hands, through misery and suffering The Partisans awareness has created. And now when we should, to the sun, to 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 složila 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 stop us.
We raise our foreheads, we walk boldly
and clench our fists hard.

Of an ancient kindred we are, but Goths we are not
Part of ancient Slavdom are we.
Whoever says otherwise slanders and lies,
will feel our fist.

All the fingers upon our hands, through misery and suffering
The Partisans awareness has created.
And now when we should, to the sun, to the sky,
We raise our fists high.

References

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

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