уторак, 29. јун 2010.

Migrants (Desanka Maksimovic)


Through the damp night
wild geese migrate to the south
honking and screeching.

I feel the desire for some murky
tale to write:
how they carried off
on those white wings of theirs
something from my soul,
but I don't know what,
and I don't know where.

Joy (Desanka Maksimovic)


I no longer watch the hands turn,
nor track the sun’s hot path;
day is here when his eyes return,
and night again when they depart.

Joy does not mean laughter, and
his yearning outweighing mine;
joy to me is when we’re silent,
and our hearts in tandem chime.

I do not rue that life’s rivers
will carry off my own life’s drop;
now blast youth and all to smither’s;
full of awe beside me he stopped.

Little Roses LXI (Jovan Jovanovic Zmaj)


You fell asleep. But I’m awake
Lost in thought somehow.
I think it would a pity be
For me to kiss you now.

I clearly see your dreams,
Heavenly, wrapped in bliss,
That should not be spoiled
With an earthly kiss.

II (Milena Pavlović-Barili‎)

I would to love you
More than I’m able
Turned away from the world –
with no time, no space –
to be carved in your reflection.
In an anxiety of existence,
I would,
to immerse my consciousness
into your serenity
setting every tear free
which I must still cry
at the terrible margin
of an imaginary relation.

Caution (Miroslav Antic)

Perhaps it is worth our repeating:
That desire is born out of desire.

And we can only really be complete
once we give ourselves entire.

We will learn only from speaking
sincere words that bind us.

And only once we start seeking
Will anyone be able to find us.

Quiffs of the Hair (Miroslav Antic)

Quiffs of the hair are usually found
Down to the nose
Or over the brow,
But there’s one blond quiff, golden like bread,
Guess where it lies?
Inside my head!

How can hair be inside the head?

Just like that -
Inside my head.
But it’s not my blond quiff, it ought to be said
But that of the prettiest girl from the Class ‘6.a’.

“So what?” you ask.

You’ll see what, one day
When the lock of another’s hair
Into your head does stray.
And you become wise,
and you flush,
and little by little… you blush.
And you bite your nails
And hide your look
And you write secret notes in the margin of your book.
And you sulk
And you’re a bit of a mess
And you try to study – what nonsense!

You confuse hens with goats,
pyramids and notes.
You confuse works of art with salads,
butterflies and ballads.
You confuse crocodiles and barn owls.
And tropical plants. And a king’s wealth
‘till you just don’t know what to do with yourself.

Now you see what a blond quiff means
When inside your head it intervenes.
And from a boy – a hero in his own right,
It creates a clumsy creature – a pitiful sight.

A Bloody Fairy-tale (Desanka Maksimovic)


It came to pass in a land of peasants
in the hills of the Balkans
a martyr’s death was suffered by
a troop of pupils
in just twenty four hours.

They were all born
in the same year
their timetables were the same shape and size
they were all taken
to the same ceremonies
‘gainst the same maladies immunized
and all died on the same day.

It came to pass in a land of peasants
in the hills of the Balkans
a martyr’s death was suffered by
a troop of pupils
in just twenty four hours.

And just fifty five minutes
before the deathly toll
the tiny troop was sitting
in their benches in their rows
wrestling with the brain
exercises: from two stations
leave two trains...
and so it goes.
Their thoughts were full of
the same mysteries
and senselessly scattered
around the benches
were A’s and D’s.

Handfulls of shared dreams
and shared secrets
patriotic and romantic
were clenched tightly in their fists.
And each imagined
that for a long time,
for a really long time
they would run ‘neath the canopy blue
‘til all the exercises in the world
were through.

It came to pass in a land of peasants
in the hills of the Balkans
a martyr’s death was suffered by
a troop of pupils
in just twenty four hours.

Entire rows of boys
took each other by the hand
and from the last school lesson
to their executions went
as if death was nothing.
Entire rows of friends
in the same instant rose
to an eternal dwelling.

God of Justice (Serbian National Anthem)


God of Justice;
Thou who saved us
when in deepest bondage cast,
Hear Thy Serbian children's voices,
Be our help as in the past.
With Thy mighty hand sustain us,
Still our rugged pathway trace;
God, our hope; protect and cherish
Serbian crown and Serbian race!
Bind in closest links our kindred
Teach the love that will not fail,
May the loathed fiend of discord
Never in our ranks prevail.
Let the golden fruits of union
Our young tree of freedom grace;
God, our Master! guide and prosper
Serbian crown and Serbian race.
Lord! Avert from us Thy vengeance,
Thunder of Thy dreaded ire;
Bless each Serbian town and hamlet,
Mountain, meadow, heart and spire.
When our host goes forth to battle
Death or victory to embrace-
God of armies! be our leader
Strengthen then the Serbian race.
On our sepulchre of ages
Breaks the resurrection morn,
From the slough of direst slavery
Serbia anew is born.
Through five hundred years of durance
We have knelt before Thy face,
All our kin, O God! deliver,
Thus entreats the Serbian race.

Blue Tomb (Plava Grobnica by Milutin Bojic)


Hail to you, imperial galleys! Restrain your
mighty rudders!
Stroke your oars silently!
I'm proudly officiating a sublime Requiem in the chill
of the night
Upon these sacred waters.

Here at the bottom, where seashells tire in sleep
And upon the dead algae peat falls,
Stretch the graves of the brave, couched brother
beside brother,
Prometheuses of Hope, Apostles of Pain.

Don't you feel the wafting sea,
That it may not trouble their holy repose?
From the deep abyss peaceful slumber ebbs,
And in tiring flight the moonlight slowly passes.

This is a mysterious temple and a sad graveyard
With decaying carcasses, unfathomably real.
Silent like the night on the tip of the Ionian Sea
Dark as a conscience, cold and despairing.

Don't you feel from your most depressing moods
That piety grows over this benediction
And the air fills with curious gentleness?
That great soul of the fallen roams

Hail to you, imperial galleys! Upon this tomb
my dear kindred ones
Veil the trumpets in mourning black.
Let your sentry, upright, chant the holy dirge
Here, where waves come to an embrace!

For the centuries will pass as the white foam
vanishes upon the sea without a trace,
And a new and great age will come in its place,
To create a splendid home upon this grave.

But these waters, in which was shrouded
the terrible mystery of the Epic,
these waters will be a cradle in Time of legends revealed,
Where the soul will seek out its Destiny.

Buried are here once ancient garlands
And the passing joy of more than one generation,
That's why this cemetery lies in the shadow of waves
Between the bosom of the sea and the vault celestial.

Hail to you, imperial galleys! Extinguish the torches,
Let the oars come to a blustering rest,
And when the Requiem prayers are said, steal away
into the dark night
inaudibly and with reverential awe.

I wish for the eternal silence to rule
and for the glorious dead to hear the noise of Battles,
And rejoice in our cries of victory, as we cast ourselves beneath
the wings of Glory upon the fields vermillion with blood.

For, there far away, battles sway
With the same blood that emanates from this resting-place:
Here above the eye of the resting lords,
There before the son's history is made.

That's why I seek peace, to officiate a Requiem
without words, without tears and quiet sighs,
Mingle with the odor of powder, the perfume of incense
As we hear resound the far noise of the cannon.

Hail to you, imperial galleys! In the name
of a conscientious fast
Glide lightly upon these sacred waters.
A Requiem I'm officiating, one that heavens
have yet to see upon these sacred waters!


Translated by Michael M. Petrovich