A letter I wrote

The fire was lit in Kikinda,
The wild Magyars are hanging my sons.
Vukovar and Petrovaradin
Are in their hands; A knife is in our back.
And Hrabovsky, the man of the hornbeam head:
The fiend, the plague of the Slav people
Has led the charge on Karlovci.
The serbs respond in kind.
I handed weapons to our own children,
For our people is soaking in blood.
We cannot resist alone.
Help from the Croats is needed forthwith.