Plavi Čuperak

Plavi čuperak

The Blond Locks

A lock of blond hair 

will usually fly

around the face

or into the eye,

but there are some blond locks that I find

imagine where,

in my mind.

How can some tresses be in your mind?

Just like that

In my mind!

It's not my hair that's in the mix

it belongs to Sanya from grade six.

And then, so what?

You will see 'what' when one day soon

somebody's locks your own mind swoon.

And you lose your words.

You lose your cool. 

You find yourself blush like a fool.

You bite your nails and hide your face,

write secret notes,

with your heart in pain,

and try to study

but all in vain.

You mix the radishes and squares,

the pyramids and grizzly bears.

You mix butterflies and towns.

And all the sports. 

And evening gowns.

And tropical plants.

And ancient Greeks.

At the end of your rope

with love flushed cheeks.

Now you see what's the meaning of that

when that blond hair gets under your hat

and turns a boy, 

a superhero, 

into a dork with confidence zero.

(Translated to English by Betina Rasic)

Plavi čuperak obično nose

neko na oku,

neko do nosa,

al ima jedan čuperak plavi

zamislite gde?

- U mojoj glavi.

Kako u glavi da bude kosa?

Lepo.

U glavi.

To nije moj čuperak plavi,

već jedne Sanje iz šestog “a”

Pa šta?

Videćeš šta – kad jednog dana

čuperak nečije kose tuđe

malo u tvoju glavu uđe,

pa se umudriš,

udrveniš,

pa malo – malo… pa pocrveniš,

pa grickaš nokte

i kriješ lice

pa šalješ tajne ceduljice,

pa nešto kunjaš,

pa se mučiš,

pa učiš – a sve koješta učiš.

Izmešaš rotkve i romboide.

Izmešaš nokte i piramide.

Izmešaš leptire i gradove.

I sportove i ručne radove.

I tropsko bilje.

I stare Grke.

I lepo ne znaš šta ćeš od muke.

Sad vidiš šta je čuperak plavi

kad ti se danima mota po glavi,

pa od dečaka- pravog junaka

napravi tunjavka i nespretnjaka.

Quiffs Of The Hair

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 ‘6.a’ Class.

“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.

(Translated by Pavle Ninković)

A Lock Of Blond Hair

A lock of hair we usually wear

on an eye

or on a nose instead;

but, there is a lock of blond hair--

imagine where?

It’s in my head.

How can hair possibly be in someone’s head?

Sure it can.

Right in the head.

It's not my lock of blond hair,

but Sanya’s from grade six who’s really fair.

So what?

You’ll see for yourself if one day

a lock of somebody else’s hair

somehow comes into your head.

And you become harsh,

and you become stiff,

and little by little--you just blush,

and suddenly you start biting your nails,

and hiding your face into the ground,

and sending secret notes around,

and you feel tender, and you feel tense,

and you learn the lessons but can see no sense.

You mix up roots and rhomboids.

You mix up notes and pyramids.

You mix up butterflies and sports.

And cities and handiwork sorts.

And tropical plants. And Old Greeks, too.

And you just don’t know what to do.

Now you see how it looks when a lock of blond hair

plays games in your head day after day;

it turns a boy who’s really cool

into a nerd and into a fool.

(Translated by Dragana Konstantinovic)

MADEIXAS LOIRAS

Madeixas loiras há a quem cheguem

Até ao olho,

Ou até ao nariz.

Mas há uma madeixa loira,

Adivinhem onde?

- Dentro da minha cabeça.

Como é possível ter cabelo dentro da cabeça?

Simplesmente assim. Dentro da cabeça.  

Essa madeixa minha não é,

Mas de uma Inês do 6ºE.

E então?

Verás então quando um dia

Uma madeixa alheia

Na tua cabeça entrar

E esquisito começares a andar,

Quando em copas te fechares,

Por tudo e por nada corares,

Quando as unhas roeres,

A cara esconderes,

E recadinhos secretos rabiscares;

Quando de sono cabeceares,

Todo aflito estudares,

Sem saber o que estás a estudar.

Quando confundires abóboras e romboides,

Confundires notas musicais e pirâmides,

Confundires borboletas e plantas tropicais,

Modalidades desportivas e trabalhos manuais.

As cidades todas

E a tabuada,

E ficares uma confusão desgraçada.  

Agora percebeste o que é uma madeixa loirinha,

Quando dias a fio anda na tua cabecinha,

E de um rapaz valentão

Faz um aselha e trapalhão.

(Tradução por Katarina Mirić Ribeiro)