The Winter Pastel

The Winter Pastel

By Jovan Dučić

Shivering in the snow, an old chapel lies
Amid the cemetery. White are the skies.
Not even a wind is heard to sigh or shrill
And weep there over a cross, over a hill.

The frozen bell no more strikes the hour,
The hand stands still and with no power,
Thus showing mid the vale, quiet and wide,
The hour when time too has finally died.

Translated from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović


Zgurena na snegu seoska kapela
Zebe usred groblja. Nebesa su bela.
Niotkud ni vetra da se javi šumom,
I zaplače gdegod za krstom, za humom.

Niti smrzlo zvono čas da kucne koji,
Ukočeno, mirno, još skazaljka stoji,
Pokazujuć tako sred doline neme
Sat, kada je najzad umrlo i vreme.



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