Gospi

Gospi Sve samlji.

Snom hodiš me tuđa.

Grešniji kad samotan te zovem.

Tuđa su deca iz tebe zaplakala.

Smiluj se.

Truje, ne celi tvoj lek.

Silovito me čemerom prostreli.

Hudi svoj, gospo,

na pesmu proćerdavam vek.

Zavapim,

al’ izvije se glas.

Miloglasan je negde na zvezdi spas,

što bolni pevač promucah ovde dole.

Jer nema ruke da razdreši nam čvor.

Al’ tamo, i na veke,

zrak tvoj hoće li boleti?

Tuđa iz tebe bića hoću li voleti?

Smiluj se.

Truje, ne celi tvoj lek.

Silovito me čemerom prostreli.

Hudi svoj, gospo,

na pesmu proćerdavam vek

To a Lady

Increasingly alone.

You haunt me in a dream, a stranger.

Sinful, when in solitude I call you.

It is someone else’s children that you bore.

Have mercy.

Your medicine is not a cure, but a thorn.

Pierce me with pain like an arrow.

Lady, I waste my life on poetry,

Forlorn.

I cry out,

But my voice fails.

Sweet-voiced salvation somewhere on a star awaits

That I muttered down here, a poor bard.

Because no hand can untie the knot.

And up there, in eternity,

Will your rays still sting?

Will I love someone else’s creatures that you bring?

Have mercy.

Your medicine is not a cure, but a thorn.

Pierce me with pain like an arrow.

Lady, I waste my life on poetry,

Forlorn.

(Translation by: Danica Dimitrijević)

To the Lady

Ever more alone.

With dreams you visit me, alien.

More sinful when, alone, I call you.

Another's children cry out of you.

Have mercy.

Your remedy rots, not cures.

Violently has it pierced me with

grief.

My own enemy, madam,

I squander my life on poetry. 

 

I cry out,

But my voice is lost in space.

Somewhere on a star is the

sweet-voiced salvation

That I,  the sick poet,  stammered

here on earth.

For there is no hand to unravel

us the knot.

But there and for ever

Does your ray seek to pain?

Shall  I love alien beings from

out of you? 

 

Have mercy.

Your remedy rots, not cures.

Violently has it pierced me

with grief.

My own enemy, madam,

I have squandered my life on

poetry.

(Edward Goy)