KOLAJNA XVIII THE NECKLACE XVIII
Tin Ujevi trans. Richard Burns & Daša Mari
(from Croatian)
Osmjejak svaki ljuto plane,
a svaka riječ je kao puška
u naše grudi rastrgane,
u naše srce bez oduška.

Snivamo zelen mir livada
i dim ognjišta u plaveti,
i bujno zrnje vinograda,
i zrelu tugu mora, ljeti.

Plačemo ubor gorskih vrela,
i mahovinu u zabiti,
kad poslije svrhe tunih djela
čeznemo čiste suze liti.

No nigdje kraja našem bolu
u bugarenju i uzdahu,
nemir je sličan alkoholu,
a oganj, oganj u mom dahu.

- Osmjejak svaki ljuto plane,
a svaka riječ je kano puška
u naše suze rastrgane,
u naše srce bez oduška.
Each smile strikes a fresh flare ablaze,
Each word, sharp as a gunshot, sounds
Into our breasts, torn many ways,
In through our hearts constricted grounds.

We dream green pastures, where peace shines,
Hearthsmoke misting in blue breeze,
Clustered grapes strung on their vines,
And deep sad summer-ripened seas.

We weep whole babbling mountain springs,
For moss of secret haunt and hollow,
And when done with such sorrowings
Yearn for cleaner tears to follow.

Our pain is endless, like the wail
Of mourners at some village death,
And misery, like alcohol,
Sears fire, fire, on my every breath.

Each smile strikes a fresh flare ablaze,
Each word, sharp as a gunshot, sounds
Into our breasts, torn many ways,
In through our hearts constricted grounds.

Copyright © Tin Ujevic: transl. copyright © Richard Burns & Dasa Maric 2006


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