The Lovers

The Lovers

By Miloš Crnjanski

Nobody will divide us ever
Into good and sinful.
We are secretive as snow-clad boughs,
And everything that is old in love
Weeps more quietly, however.
In just a little while, we shall
Dreary, with a doleful smile,
In ugly passions, halt,
Pained, pale, weary.
In plants or in something else
Of might, the glade of a young wood behind
We shall again our hopes find.

In the fragrant sky of the night.
The hopes of all who smile painfully.
And, when, as an eternal flower, anew
O’er the bodies weary, the sky’s in blue drowned
And a hug becomes a world anew,
As gold a holy head around,
With the scent of incense dreary,
We’ll know not what sin it used to be,
Among the sins which as clouds glide,
That these bodies and souls, fair and new, did provide.

Translation from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović


Niko nas neće podeliti više,
na dobre i grešne.
Tajni smo kao grane snežne,
a sve što je staro u ljubavi,
plače sve tiše.
Još malo samo, pa ćemo
sumorni, sa osmehom tužnim,
u strastima ružnim, stati,
bolni, bledi, umorni.
U bilju, ili nečem drugom,
moćnom, nad proplankom jedne šume mlade,
naći ćemo opet svoje nade.

U mirisnom nebu noćnom.
Nade svih koji se bolno smeše.
I, kad, opet, kao večni cvet,
nad telima umornim, nebesa zaplave.
I zagrljaj opet bude svet,
kao zlato oko svete glave,
sa tamjana mirisom sumornim,
nećemo znati koji greh to beše,
među gresima što ko oblaci plove,
što nam ta tela i duše dade divne i nove.




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