Danaë

Danaë

By Vojislav Ilić

Once, the infatuated thunder god came to you
As lush gold rain. But, bright youth has gone by

And dejected, you stand on its green slope now,
For old age has already come nigh.

Time has furrowed lines on your dark brow –
The gold rain is no more,

The thunder god is gone, too. Onto the altar of your love
Not even copper does now pour.

Translation from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

Danaja

Nekad je gromovnik, silno zaljubljen, išao tebi
Sa zlatnom, obilnom kišom. No svetla mladost je prošla,

I ti snuždena stojiš na njenom obronku travnom,
Jer starost već je došla.

Vreme je izrilo bore po tvome čeocu tavnom-
I zlatne nestade kiše,

I gromovnika s njome. Na oltar ljubavi tvoje
Ni bakar ne pada više.

danae_louvre

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