Typhoid Sufferers[a] (Serbo-Croatian: Tifusari) is a poem by Croatian writer Jure Kaštelan.

The poem depicts hallucinations of typhoid-affected Yugoslav partisans marching through snow-covered wastelands during World War II.

[1] It was first published in Kaštelan's 1950 book of poems The Cock on the Roof (Pijetao na krovu).

[2] In 1963 the poem was adapted into a short animated film of the same title directed by Vatroslav Mimica.

Will the footsteps stay on ground, pressed in with blood, and protest or snows will cover in dead silence words, traces and roads?

Behind the mount death is forging knives and the black hole is opening its mouth: it's spitting fires and gallows.

5 Whence this day, fiery dove on the palm, whence this voice, on which shore does it grow all dawn-born?

Will you dying give off a living love-light which is born anew in every single heart, will you sing dawn-voiced in the night?

In a crazy blaze when mind is getting darkened love speaks with an even stronger vengeance.

I see lakes quiet and transparent, willow from the childhood bent over river, and new words never heard before, people from the land, known and far.

My country, you see me naked, lousy, all covered in wounds, powerless, hunched, I barely walk - and that is why you're even more part of me.

2 Hoće li ikad ovom stazom proći nebo široko, oko puno sreće?

Da li će briznuti frule i izvori i cvrkutati jutra u proljeće?

Hoće li stope ostati na zemlji i prkositi krvlju utisnute ili će snjegovi u mrkloj tišini zamesti riječi, tragove i pute?

To majka ruke nad mojim snom nad svojim sinom savija i njena crna, crna kosa ko san na mojem čelu klija.

Za gorom smrt noževe kuje i jama – mješina nozdrve nadima: požare i vješala bljuje.

Kad pjesme umiru, ti što si ljubav sama, hoćeš li umirući živu ljubav dati što prkosi smrti i čelik prelama?

Ako panem u mraku, prenesi živima pozdrav, prenesi od groba do srca, pronesi kroz tminu pjesmu što ne gine; sloboda, sloboda.

U požaru ludom kad se pamet mrači osvetom još jačom, ljubav progovori.

U mraku čujem žive razgovore, Očima živih gledam nove dane.

Gledam jezera prozirna i mirna, vrbu djetinjstva svinutu nad rijekom i nove riječi nikad nečuvene, ljude u kraju znanom i dalekom.

Rođena zemljo, nisam te dočeko, nego u gunju, ušljiv, sav od rana, nemoćan, zguren, jedva korak vučem – i zato si jače u me urezana.

Glad i oganj žedne usne pruža za kapljom vode.

Tmina oči steže, i što smo bliže zori noć postaje duža.

Za me nema zore, ali i u smrti mi smo partizani I naši mrtvi još se jače bore.