Sonet o ptici
Ispili se iz bačenog kamena i bude zenica neba oslepelog, malo života zbilja poletelog s naših beskrilnih pognutih ramena. O čudna ptica čija namena da bude let zemlje i pesma opustelog neba, koja se čuje al ne shvata. O, belo udvaranje vetra toj ptici od plamena. Ptico uzidana u mozak i zid koju nikad nije upoznao vid koju je sluh našo u prostorima šumnim, u našem uhu tvoja se smrt zače. O kamena ptico nek te noć oplače zvezdama vrelim zvezdama nerazumnim.
Sonet o ptici
Sonnet about the bird
It hatched out of a stone thrown
and became iris of the blinded sky
a little life that've taken off
of our endless shoulders bowed.
Oh strange bird whose purpose
is to be the flight of the earth and the song of deserted
sky, that is heard but not grasped. Oh, white
courting of the wind to that fiery bird.
Bird that is walled into the brain and wall
that never met the sight
that hearing has found in the places of murmur,
your death was conceived in our ear.
Oh stone-bird may the night mourn you
with the sultry stars with the stars unreasonable.
(translated by Aleksandra Milanović)