Grm
Munjom opaljen grm na surom proplanku stoji, Kô crn i mračan div. I guste travice splet Gordi mu uvija stas – i gorski nestašni lahor Leluja šareni cvet. I zima dođe već, i svojom studenom rukom Pokida nakit sav i goru obnaži svu, Al’ mnoga zima još sa hladnim vetrom će doći, A on će biti tu.
Grm
Grm
The Shrub
The Shrub
A thunder stricken shrub on a grey hill it rests,
Like a dark almighty giant. And grassy ribbon dense,
Twists around his shape. And playful mountain breeze
Sways the bright flowers and trees.
Then winter comes along, and with its frosty arm
Tears all the charms and strips the mountain bare
But many more winters with a cold wind will come
And he will still be there.
(Prevela na engleski: Betina Rašić)