Fatigue

Fatigue

By Jovan Dučić

When I get weary of time indifferent as can be,
During many an hour colourless and blue,
A wish is born: I would like to live through
Either joy or woe, it makes no difference to me.

That obscure wish lying deep my heart in
Grows like the torrent of some dark power.
And each morn it is awake before my hour;
Oft it warms me up and oft it cools me within.

My soul has glimmered…what hour could it be?
Dawn or eve? The flame that’s flickered alight –
What is it? Love it is, I think. Alas, no, it is spite!
Yet, it’s one and the same thing or so it seems to me.

Translation from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

Napor

Kada me zamori ravnodušno, bedno
Vreme, u časima bezbojnim i sivim,
Rađa mi se želja: ja bih da doživim
Ili sreću ili nesreću, svejedno.

I ta tamna želja negde u dnu grudi
Raste, ko poplava kakve mračne sene.
I svakoga jutra budna je pre mene;
I često zagreje, i često zastudi.

U duši zasvetli… koje je to doba:
Zora ili veče? Plam što je zablisto;
Šta je? Mislim ljubav, a ono je zloba!…
A meni se čini tako jedno isto.

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