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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The Dew is Falling…

The Dew is Falling…

By Milan Rakić

The sky is grey, pale is the moon,
Quiet everywhere, not a swirl.
The plane-trees hum no tune
And the stream makes no whirl.

O, strange night, o, hour brief,
Black, deaf and obscure,
At which, like a thin leaf,
Trembles my spirit pure.

I feel a secret flight in the gloom
While the stream is still then;
A leaf quivers shaking off a bloom,
And all is quiet again.

Silent as a shadow, the dew
Is falling on the leaf and flower,
And in a flash, soft night, too
Restores the world’s power.

And I feel at that hour brief,
Black, deaf and obscure,
While like a soft, thin leaf,
Quivers my spirit pure,

That in the dark, a God is
Shedding tears, weeping
From the kind heart of his,
Over the world that’s dying.

Translation from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

Rosa pada…

Nebo je sivo, mesec bled,
Tišina svuda, mir.
Ne šumi sad platana red,
I ne žubori vir.

O, čudna noć, o, čudan sat,
Tajanstven, crn, i gluh,
U koji kao viti vlat
Moj bolni dršće duh.

Osetim katkad tajni let
Kroz noć, dok ćuti vir;
Strese se list i strese cvet,
Pa opet vlada mir.

To rosa, tiho kao sen,
Pada na list i cvet,
I blaga noć za jedan tren
Osveži ceo svet.

I ja osećam u taj sat,
Tajanstven, crn, i gluh,
Dok kao nežni, viti vlat
Moj bolni dršće duh,

Da to u tami neki Bog
Nad svetom koji mre,
Iz bolećiva srca svog
Proliva suze te…

Dew-by-Martin