Liquid Poetry

Simon Gregorčič – to the River Soča

Flowing from the heart of the Julian Alps, the turquoise waters of the Soča River have inspired poets, shaped battles, and captured the hearts of those who wander. In 1879, the Slovenian poet Simon Gregorčič gave voice to this wild beauty in his iconic poem Soči, calling the river “the clear daughter of the heights.”

Today, we come to hike the mountains that look down on her, paddle her rapids, and breathe her clean alpine air. We've tried to weave this spirit into our designs and provide a Slovenia souvenir shirt that is part clothing, part memory and a way to carry home a piece of the Soča Valley. Whether you're drawn to the history of the valley, the poetry, or simply the colour of the water, these shirts pieces of the valley you can take with you, without disturbing the magic. Read this iconic poem to better understand the Soča and what she meant to people in the past. Then, sit by the river and ponder what she means to you.

Simon Gregorčič – to the River Soča

You are splendid, limpid daughter of the heights,

You are graceful in your natural beauty,

When your transparent depths

Are not disturbed by the

Wrath of darksome storms,

You are splendid, limpid daughter of the heights!

Your course is lively and gentle

Like the walk of highland girls,

You are serene as the mountain air,

You are loud as the vigorous

Chant of the highland youth –

You are splendid, daughter of the heights.

I like to look into your lively waves,

These green-blue waves;

The dark green of highland grass

And the cheerful azure of the heights

Have flown together with delight;

From the dew of the blue skies,

From the dew of green mountains,

You have drunk your beauty –

You are splendid, daughter of the heights.

You are my most dear friend!

When you rustle down from mountain woodlands

You seem a messenger from home,

Carrying plenty of dear greetings –

May God welcome you amidst the plains! …

How dearly and loudly you murmur,

How stalwartly and soundly you bound

When you still flow through the mountains!

But when you clatter down to the flatlands,

Why do you lose your lively joy?

Why do you flow tiredly and slowly,

Why are your voices sad?

Is it hard to part from the mountain range,

The cradle of your waves?

Do you know you are passing by the graves,

The graves of Slovene homeland?

A double grief you suffer here!

In this grief, mournful and sluggish,

You seem like a big tear to me;

But even as tear – splendid!

You are splendid, limpid daughter of the heights,

You are graceful in your natural beauty,

When your transparent depths

Are not disturbed by the

Wrath of raging storms!

But, alas, my poor child,

A dreadful storm, a horrible storm

Is threatening you;

It will storm in from the warm south,

It will rage through the fertile plain

Nourished by your waters –

Woe!, that day is not far.

A clear arch will stretch above you,

Around you a hail of lead,

Rain of blood and streams of tears,

Lightning and thunder – oh, stifling battle!

Bitter steel will strike upon these lands,

And you will flow full of blood:

Our blood will nourish you,

The enemy’s will muddy you!

Remember then, limpid Soca,

The commands of your fervid heart:

All the waters stored

In the clouds of your skies,

All the waters in your highlands,

All the waters of your blossoming plains,

Rush it all up at once,

Rise up, froth in a dreadful stream!

Do not confine yourself within the banks,

Rise wrathfully over the defences,

And drawn the foreigners ravenous for land

To the bottom of your foaming waves!

- Simon Gregorčič, 1879

Translated by Travel Slovenia

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Izvirajoča iz srca Julijskih Alp, turkizna Soča je navdihovala pesnike, oblikovala bitke in osvojila srca vseh, ki so jo obiskali. Leta 1879 je slovenski pesnik Simon Gregorčič tej divji lepoti dal glas v svoji znameniti pesmi Soči in reko poimenoval “bistra hči planin.”

Danes prihajamo, da bi hodili po gorah, ki jo obdajajo, veslali po njenih brzicah in dihali njen čist alpski zrak. Ta duh smo poskušali vtkati v naše dizajne in ustvariti spominsko majico iz Slovenije, ki je hkrati oblačilo in spomin — način, kako odnesti s sabo delček Soške doline. Ne glede na to, ali vas pritegne zgodovina doline, poezija ali zgolj barva vode, so te majice koščki doline, ki jih lahko vzamete s seboj, ne da bi pri tem zmotili njeno čarobnost.

Simon Gregorčič – Soči

Krasna si, bistra hči planin,

brdka v prirodni si lepoti,

ko ti prozornih globočin

nevihte temne srd ne moti —

krasna si, hči planin!

Tvoj tek je živ in je legak

ko hod deklet s planine;

in jasna si ko gorski zrak

in glasna si, kot spev krepak

planinske je mladine —

krasna si, hči planin!

Rad gledam ti v valove bodre,

valove te zelenomodre:

temna zelen planinskih trav

in vedra višnjevost višav

lepo se v njih je zlila;

na rosah sinjega neba,

na rosah zelenih gora

lepoto to si pila —

krasna si, hči planin!

Ti meni si predraga znanka!

Ko z gorskih prišumiš dobrav,

od doma se mi zdiš poslanka,

nesoča mnog mi ljub pozdrav —

Bog sprimi tu te sred planjav!

Kako glasno, ljubo šumljaš,

kako čvrsto, krepko skakljaš,

ko sred gora še pot imaš!

A ko pridereš na ravnine,

zakaj te živa radost mine?

Kaj trudno lezeš in počasi,

zakaj so tožni tvoji glasi?

Težko se ločiš od hribov,

zibélke tvojega valovja?

Mar veš, da tečeš tik grobov,

grobov slovenskega domovja?

Obojno bol pač tu trpiš,

V tej boli tožna in počasna,

ogromna solza se mi zdiš,

a še kot solza - krasna!

Krasna si, bistra hči planin,

brdka v prirodni si lepoti,

ko ti prozornih globočin

nevihte divje srd ne moti!

Pa oh, siroti tebi žuga

vihar grozán, vihar strašán;

prihrumel z gorkega bo juga,

divjal čez plodno bo ravan,

ki tvoja jo napaja struga —

gorjé, da daleč ni ta dan!

Nad tabo jasen bo obok,

krog tebe pa svinčena toča

in dež krvav in solz potok

in blisk in grom — oh, bitva vroča!

Tod sekla bridka bodo jekla,

in ti mi boš krvava tekla:

kri naša te pojila bo,

sovražna te kalila bo!

Takrat se spomni, bistra Soča,

kar gorko ti srce naroča:

Kar bode shranjenih voda

v oblakih tvojega neba,

kar vode v tvojih bo planinah,

kar bode v cvetnih je ravninah,

tačas pridrvi vse na dan,

narasti, vzkipi v tok strašán!

Ne stiskaj v meje se bregov,

srdita čez branove stopi

ter tujce, zemlje lačne, vtopi

na dno razpenjenih valov! *

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