Utjeha kose

Utjeha koseGledao sam te sinoć. U snu. Tužnu. Mrtvu.

U dvorani kobnoj, u idili cvijeća,

Na visokom odru, u agoniji svijeća,

Gotov da ti predam život kao žrtvu.

Nisam plako. Nisam. Zapanjen sam stao

U dvorani kobnoj, punoj smrti krasne,

Sumnjajući da su tamne oči jasne

Odakle mi nekad bolji život sjao.

Sve baš, sve je mrtvo: oči, dah i ruke,

Sve što očajanjem htjedoh da oživim

U slijepoj stravi i u strasti muke,

U dvorani kobnoj, mislima u sivim.

Samo kosa tvoja još je bila živa,

Pa mi reče: Miruj! U smrti se sniva.

Hair Comfort

I watched you last night. In a dream. Sad. Dead.

In a fatal hall, in idyll of flowers,

On a high stand, in agony of candles,

Ready to give you my life as an offer.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t. I stood stunned

In the fatal hall, full of splendid death.

Doubting that the dark eyes are clear

From where once a better life to me shined.

All, all is dead; the eyes, breath and arms,

All that desperately I tried to revive

In a blind horror and the passion pains.

In the fatal hall, thoughts in greys.

Only your hair was still alive,

And told me: Death is a dream. Be calm!

(translated by Bozica Cvjetkovic)