Damir drifts across the palate like a shot of midnight espresso—smooth yet quietly potent—and, true to his Slavic roots, his very syllables promise harmony: in many South-Slavic tongues da means “to give” while mir means “peace.” Some storytellers along the Adriatic even pair him with the Turkish word demir, “iron,” so he ends up wearing both a dove and a suit of mail—an amusingly efficient multitasker for someone who can’t yet tie his shoes. He has long been cherished in Bosnia, Croatia, and Serbia, but in the United States he has been enjoying a gentle, tide-like rise: 315 little Damirs arrived in 2024, lifting him to No. 621 and proving that steady currents matter more than sudden waves. One can almost picture him strolling through a sunlit piazza—warm terracotta walls, the faint strum of a mandolin—offering the world a handshake that says, “Peace, but make it strong.” Damir, in short, is a compact ambassador: diplomatic in meaning, ironclad in character, and undeniably charming in sound.
| Damir Džumhur - | 
| Damir Nikšić - | 
| Damir Urban - | 
| Damir Mršić - | 
| Damir Martin - | 
| Damir Burić - | 
| Damir Bektić - | 
| Damir Grgić - |