Bozjak

Bozjak

Prebol je,

Kuzi ova noc.

Zemlja mi telo,

Hodi on.

Zalapi groza

Na stope Bogu gde ostole.

Mnogo te majko bolelo

Rad' ova tiha prebola.

O, malo li je

Za muku tvoje utrobe.

To bozjak

Da ne rodim sina

U ovoj grozi od iskoni,

Kad hodi on. 

Jer nema zore,

Na zenice li ne zaplavi,

Ni blaga poja ne,

Rodnu li ovu grozu ne prekuzim.

Obol mi pruze, majko,

Po drhtaj Boga

Ja  njima na dar,

Bozjak ja raspevani.

The Beggar 

'Tis recovery,

Plagues this night.

Earth my body,

He walks.

Terror drives

On the steps of God where they have

stayed.

Much, mother, did I pain you

For this a quiet recovery.

Oh, little is it

For the pain of your womb.

So, a beggar

That I breed no son

In this primeval terror,

When he walks.

For there's no dawning,

No blue skies for the eyes,

Nor gentle singing,

This innate terror I survive not

its plague.

Sickness they offer me, mother,

To each a shudder of God

My gift to them,

I, the singing beggar.

(Edward Goy)