Spring

Spring

By Aleksa Šantić

Darling, let not a sleep come o’er thee tonight,
Grant not, dear, to thy heart a sweet respite!
When o’er our river the moon pours its light,
And on the ground fall first dewdrops bright,

A young spring will be born! As everywhere
The sweet fragrance of lilacs the air will fill;
Soft snowflakes will fall from branches still
Into our brook winding thro’ the garden there.

Lado will sneak in Mostar, our dormant town:
On each window he’ll shed snowflakes down,
To waken all the hearts that love and ache…

So, my dear, let not a sleep come over thee!
Come! May thou first rose in our garden be,
And sweetly smell in my heart till daybreak!

Translated from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

PROLJEĆE

Nemoj, draga, noćas da te san obrva
I da sklopiš oči na dušeku mekom!
Kada mjesec sine nad našom rijekom
I na zemlju pane tiha rosa prva,

Rodiće se mlado proljeće! I svuda
Prosuće se miris plavih jorgovana;
I pahulje snježne padaće sa grana
U naš bistri potok što baštom krivuda.

Uzviće se Ljeljo nad našim Mostarom,
I svaki će prozor zasuti beharom,
Da probudi srca što ljube i gore…

Zato nemoj, draga, da te san obrva!
Dođi, i u bašti budi ruža prva,
I na mome srcu miriši do zore!

woods, Mountains, Meadow, Flowers

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Notre destin nous est connu

Notre destin nous est connu

By Aleksa Šantić

Notre destin nous est connu et tout ce qui est devant nous ,
Mais la peur ne nous gèlera pas le coeur!
Les bœufs supportent le joug, l’homme aspire au bonheur –
La liberté lui est donnée par le Seigneur.
Notre force est telle un torrent de montagne,
Que personne jamais n’arrêtera!
S’il faut mourir, ce peuple mourra –
Et dans sa mort son remède il trouvera.
Notre chemin est bien connu, le chemin de l’Homme-Dieu,
et puissants, tels le torrent de montagne,
Nous passerons tous par la roche tranchante!
Et loin, très loin, jusqu’au lointain Calvaire,
Même quand vous nous priverez de nos vies viriles,
Notre lutte sera poursuivie  par nos tombes assaillantes!

Traduit par Nada Djurović

Mi znamo sudbu

Mi znamo sudbu i sve što nas čeka,
no strah nam neće zalediti grudi!
Volovi jaram trpe, a ne ljudi –
Bog je slobodu dao za čovjeka.

Snaga je naša planinska rijeka,
nju neće nigda ustaviti niko!
Narod je ovi umirati svikô –
u svojoj smrti da nađe lijeka.

Mi put svoj znamo, put bogočovjeka,
i silni, kao planinska rijeka,
svi ćemo poći preko oštra kama!

Sve tako dalje, tamo do Golgote,
i kad nam muške uzmete živote,
grobovi naši boriće se s vama!

aleksasantic_01

 

We Know Our Fate

We Know Our Fate

By Aleksa Šantić

We know our fate and all we’re in for, o!
Yet our hearts in fright will not shiver!
Oxen bow down but men do not quiver,
For God unto men freedom did bestow.

Our strength is a mountain stream,
Nobody shall ever harness its flow!
This people is used to dying in woe-
By virtue of death itself to redeem.

Our way, that of a god-man, we know,
And mighty as a mountain river’s flow,
We shall all tread bold the mud thro’!

Far and beyond, to Golgotha one strives,
But even if you take our lionhearted lives,
The graves of ours shall be fighting you!

Translation from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

Mi znamo sudbu

Mi znamo sudbu i sve što nas čeka,
no strah nam neće zalediti grudi!
Volovi jaram trpe, a ne ljudi –
Bog je slobodu dao za čovjeka.

Snaga je naša planinska rijeka,
nju neće nigda ustaviti niko!
Narod je ovi umirati svikô –
u svojoj smrti da nađe lijeka.

Mi put svoj znamo, put bogočovjeka,
i silni, kao planinska rijeka,
svi ćemo poći preko oštra kama!

Sve tako dalje, tamo do Golgote,
i kad nam muške uzmete živote,
grobovi naši boriće se s vama!

Image result for aleksa šantić

O Autumn Mine!

O Autumn Mine!

By Aleksa Šantić

O, autumn mine, I greet thee! Come
Follow me through a flowery meadow,
And take me to beautiful places some,
Where murmur my desires of long ago.

Yonder there are roses of my native town
That have not wilted in th’ ice-clad dells,
Bright ways and sprightly springs around,
Where the keen soul still lives and dwells.

The sweet-scented flowers wave to me
Their pure, silky buds in the verdant lea
Lie filled with juice and with nectar rife.

A wreath I shall weave of their bloom
And say a prayer as I lay it to the tomb
Of my dead summer and my young life.

Translation from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

JESENI MOJA…

Jeseni moja, pozdravljam te!… Hodi,
I pođi sa mnom preko rodnih strana,
Po lijepijem mjestima me vodi,
Gdje šume čežnje mojih davnih dana.

Onamo ima ruža zavičajnih,
Što nisu svele od studena inja,
I vrela živih i putanja sjajnih,
Gdje duša ljuta još rudi i tinja.

Milo cvijeće otuda mi maše,
Njegove čiste i svilene čaše
Slatkim napitkom prepunjene stoje.

Jedan vijenac od njega ću sviti,
I s molitvom ga na grob položiti
Svog mrtvog ljeta i mladosti svoje.

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My Love

My Love

By Aleksa Šantć

This is where I buried the love of mine-
Into this sea, blue and crystal clear,
Where seashells dwell. And ’tis here,
Deep down, that it lies in repose divine.

The crimson corals are softly cuddling
It with their twigs. Its grave always
With a pure emerald glow is ablaze,
And with a yearning voice it is humming.

Lo! The morrow rays towards it are diving!
Each one shivering, plunging and sinking,
And dissipating as ruby light and a rainbow.

While above its sea grave, here on high,
At all times flutters and drifts a butterfly,
All black and solitary – ‘tis my great woe.

Translation from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

Moja ljubav

Ovdje sam ljubav sahranio svoju —
U ovo more plavo i prozirno,
Gdje školjke leže. Ona sada mirno
Počiva na dnu… U tihu pokoju

Granama svojim ljube je i grle
Korali rudi… Njezin se grob svagda
Preliva sjajem čistoga smaragda,
I šumi glasom čežnje neumrle.

Gle zraci jutra kako njojzi rone!
I svaki dršće, prodire i tone,
I rasipa se kô rubin, kô duga…

Dok ovdje gori, više njena groba,
Trepti i kruži bono, svako doba,
Sam jedan crni leptir — moja tuga.

Pink_Birdsnest_Coral_1810

 

Reapers

Reapers

By Aleksa Štantić

Like spider-woven soft silk  strings,
A moonlight veil is hanging from the trees.
By the river in th’ field, ripe grain sings,
As blood-red fruit is swayin’ in th’ breeze.

A small wooden tower stands guard across
The sleeping village. Th’ ancient cemetery
Is silent and the crosses covered in moss,
Are spreading their arms as if waiting wary

Someone to hug. As winks this midnight fine
And th’ village sleeps upon the hand divine,
I see strange reapers, all gaunt and sour,

Descend the stairs of heaven, treading slow,
Scythes flung o’er their necks as on they go.
And the hour of doom strikes from the tower.

Translation from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

Žeteoci

Kô svilene niti što ih pauk satkô,
Po drveću visi mesečine veo.
U polju, uz reku, šušti ječam zreo,
I, kô krv, sa grane rudi voće slatko.

Mali drven toranj, kao straža neka,
Uvrh sela stremi. Staro groblje ćuti,
A krstovi, mahovinom ogrnuti,
Svoje ruke šire, kô da svaki čeka

Da zagrli nekog… I dok ponoć plava
Trepti, i pod božjom rukom selo spava,
Žeteoce čudne, koštane i sure,

Ja vidim gde s neba niz lestvice slaze,
S kosama na vratu šoboćući gaze…
I svrh sela zvoni udar kobne ure.

aleksa_santic_01

 

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