The poet Ljudevit Farkaš (Zagreb, 1813–1893) was an Illyrian who was among the first to Croatianise his surname, adopting the form Vukotinović, and who devoted himself to literature, politics and the natural sciences. He was a great Croatian patriot and, from 1861, lord lieutenant of Križevci County. Pursuing botany and mineralogy in his spare time, he came to know a large part of Croatia, including the Samobor–Plešivica highlands. A journey to Okić Castle inspired him, and in honour of the beauties of this region he wrote a ballad which he published on the 28th of the month of Szechna (January) 1835 in Gaj's "Danicza Horvatzka, Slavonzka y Dalmatinzka." The ballad was soon set to music by Ferdo Livadić.
The forest is wet with dew,
The dawn whitens,
The birds are singing;
A warrior returns from war
To see his father and brother
And his beloved.
"O dear homeland,
That gave me birth,
Do not grieve me!
Tell me plainly,
Is all well at home,
Will my love still love me?"
"Since I went to battle
I have kept my love
Faithful in my breast.
When the sabre was cutting
And blood ran in streams,
You were my every thought."
Far away the clouds drift,
And high and mighty
Rise the walls of Okić;
A flock of crows cries out,
Croaking over there on the left
So that the valley resounds.
Your words have fled away,
Your wings swift as arrows!
Do you hear me?
O you black birds,
Wretched birds of sorrow,
You fill my heart with dread!
The crows circled round,
Three times they cried
As if lamenting,
Then they spread their wings,
Circled three times more,
And flew off into the valley.
As he travels further on
From the valley he hears
A bell tolling in grief;
The sound cuts into his heart,
Grips his breast with bitter pain,
He was soon moved to tears.
A storm arose,
Threw everything into turmoil,
All was in confusion:
Now thunder and lightning,
The black sky presses
Hard upon the traveller's heart.
Six warriors,
Illyrian young men,
Carry a black coffin,
He sees his father walking,
Shedding bitter tears,
And by the coffin torches burning.
Maidens carry garlands,
Each in white robes,
One bearing roses.
Among the maidens
He searches for his beloved,
But his love is nowhere to be seen.
"O pitiless death,
Your bitter power
Has cut down my flower.
May a fierce and savage serpent
Coil about you —
Where is my love now!?"
The storms and thunder roar,
All shatters and breaks,
The crows appear:
"You have no gift of fortune,
Weep your loss, your loss!"
And they began to rise.
The warrior reels
Down to the dark earth,
Falls upon his beloved's coffin;
Grief has slain him,
United him with his beloved,
A dove soars up to heaven.
