Frost

Frost

By Aleksa Šantić

The hills are aglow with morning light
From the shrubs rise up silvery mists;
Old poplar-trees hum from the height
As the silver-pure brook flows and twists.

All things are gay. Yet, someone’s crying
Deep down in the frost, in the grave,
Louder grows his sobbing and sighing –
Imploring me from affliction him to save.

O poor heart of mine, implore me not,
For to you no solace can be brought.
Your destiny is like the destiny of night

That roves forever as the sun it seeks:
Crossing the seas, deserts and peaks,
But shall never, never reach its light.

Translation from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

Mraz

Vrhove brda sjaj jutarnji žari,
Srebrna magla diže se sa grma;
Visoko šume jablanovi stari
I potok teče kao čista srma.

Sve se veseli. Samo neko plače
Duboko negdje, u mrazu, u grobu,
Uzdiše, jeca, sve jače i jače –
Zove me da mu olakšam tegobu.

O srce moje, ti me nemoj zvati,
Utjehe tebi ja ne mogu dati…
Sudba je tvoja kao sudba noći

Što vječno luta da dostigne sunce:
Prelazi mora, pustare, vrhunce,
No suncu nigda, nigda neće doći.

mraz

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