Melancholy

Melancholy

By Jovan Dučić

The traces of men vanished long,
Across the fields still linger and lie –
And the bitter peace of a dead song,
And the scent of a harvest gone-by.

Outside the day is already done,
And the last shades will fade soon –
But, the crickets still inebriate of sun
Cry on yearning for a smelting noon.

In the vast field everything lasts still,
Everything that we once wept for;
‘Cos all things that we grieve for will
Live again a hundred times and more.

The fleeting hearts die in their pride,
Contradictory and laden with vanity,
Yet, at their bottom and deep inside,
Are solely the fragments of eternity.

So everything lives its curse still,
Thro’ places forsaken and foregone,
As all the scent of a past harvest will,
And too the bitter calm of what’s gone.

Translation from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

Seta

I davno trag ljudi kud nesta,
Još širom po poljima plinu –
Sav gorki mir pesme što presta,
I miris žetve što minu.

I davno mrak padne već vani,
I zadnji lik stvari se zatre –
A cvrčci od sunca pijani
Još kliču za podne od vatre.

Sve traje na velikoj njivi,
Sve jednom što suza nam zali;
Jer stokratni život proživi
Sve ono za čime se žali.

I srca mru, trošna međ svima,
I tašta i protivurečna –
No ono što na dnu njih ima,
Sve samo su delovi večna.

I traje sve, kao iz kletve,
Kroz prazna i pečalna mesta –
Sav miris daleke žetve,
I gorki mir svega što nesta.

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