Dr. Rinaldo Diricchardi-Muzga Poet Lyric

Lament Over a Beloved Land

1.
O Slovenia, valley of my first breath,
you harp of rivers and linden-scented winds,
How softly you once sang the songs
that warmed the hearts of shepherds and saints.
Your mountains were guardians,
Your church's lamps upon the hills,
Your evenings folded in the hush of prayer.
2.
But behold, a new silence has descended—
a silence that does not adore,
a silence that does not remember.
It sweeps through squares and schools,
quietly erasing the traces
of the One who walked beside you
through centuries of trial.
3.
Your children wander with hurried steps,
seeking new certainties,
new freedoms,
new altars of convenience.
They forget the Cross that once
kept our storms at bay.
They forget the stories told beside fires
in winter-darkened villages—
stories of faith that carried us
through wars, famine, and exile.
4.
O homeland, why do you turn
your face from the spring that sustained you?
Why do you drink from waters
that cannot quench your longing?
You seek comfort in forgetfulness
and call it progress.
You walk paths paved with hollow promises
and call it freedom.
5.
Yet even as I lament,
my grief is not a curse—
It is a prayer woven from love.
A child does not stop loving
because his mother ceases to listen.
He kneels more deeply,
weeps more quietly,
and hopes more fiercely
that she will one day return.

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