Midnight

Midnight

By Djura Jakšić

It’s midnight,
That black-veiled silent goddess
Of a free soul she’s the blessedness,
Dark is the night, th’ evil hour has come.

But, what’s that hum?…
Under the black wing of a mute midnight,
Just like an immense solitary billow
That rolls across the sea high and low;
It’s roaring soft and slow as if dying,
As if coming from underground, horrifying.
Is it the spirits speaking to the earth?
Is it the earth cursing its deeds of little worth?
Or haply the heavens are journeying forth,
Not to listen to my curse henceforth;
So the stars and the sky are filled with rue,
As they bid to the world their last adieu!
What if the world of the sky is bereft?
What if no more dawn on earth is left?
What if the darkness
Stays on?…

The steps are heard as well…
If ‘tis midnight softly gliding I cannot tell.
Treading so quietly is not even the air;
As if it came from yonder world fair.
Is it a cloud drifting aloft furtively?
Is it some ailing man gasping heavily?
Is it an angel with a cure to save his life,
Or a keen scythe to cut short his strife?
Could it be love?….Could it be spite?…
It might be sneaking up, oh, yes it might,
To empty our sole glass of joy and delight?
Or haply tears of grief are poured alright,
To inundate us by their floods so shed,
Or the defunct are rising from the dead?

The door creaked open…
O ghost! Dearest spirit, o!
Darling mother! O I’m blessed so!
Many a day, many a year have passed,
Many a time truths were bitter in the past;
Many a time shivered my fearful heart,
Many a time people tore my soul apart;
Much I repented and much I sinned again,
And with cold death I consoled myself then;
With bitterness filled I drank many a glass,
Many a piece I drenched in tears, alas!
O mother, mother! Dearest spirit, o!
Mother, ever since I parted with thee,
No good or bliss has ever befallen me!…
Yet, thou might think: “He’s well, I believe,
For he harks not the spider softly weave
Its gossamer cobweb, with a silken thread,
Which over our gloomy ceiling is spread:
-Thou art among thy neighbours, thy kin.”

Yet, being among them is worse than a sin:
Hand in hand walk malice and disgrace,
Envy oft gives them a brotherly embrace,
Falsehood is their close and dear friend,
Villainy takes them to the world’s end;
Attended by flattery, served by treachery,
They seek infidelity to keep them company.
O, mother, mother, this world is malicious,
Life is, mother, so sorrowful and vicious!

Translated from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

PONOĆ

Ponoć je,
U crnom plaštu nema boginja.
Slobodne duše to je svetinja,
To gluvo doba, taj crni čas…

Al’ kakav glas?…
Po tamnom krilu neme ponoći,
K’o grdan talas jedan jedini
Da se po morskoj valja pučini;
Lagano huji k’o da umire,
Il’ da iz crne zemlje izvire.
Možda to dusi zemlji govore?
Il’ zemlja kune svoje pokore?
Il’ nebo možda dalje putuje,
Da moju kletvu više ne čuje;
Pa zvezde plaču, nebo tuguje,
Poslednji put se s zemljom rukuje!
Pa zar da neba svetu nestane?
Pa zar da zemlji više ne svane?
Zar da ostane
Tama?…

I hod se čuje…
Da l’ ponoć tako mirno putuje?
Ni vazduh tako tiho ne gazi;
K’o da sa onog sveta dolazi.
Il’ kradom oblak ide na više?
Il’ bolnik kakav teško uzdiše?
Il’ anđ’o melem s neba donosi?
Il’ oštru kosu, da ga pokosi?
Da ljubav ne ide?… Da zloba nije?…
Možda se krade, da nam popije
I ovu jednu čašu radosti?
Il’ možda suza ide žalosti,
Da nas orosi tužna kapljica?
Ili nam mrtve vraća zemljica?

Vrata škrinuše…
O duše! o mila seni!
O majko moja! o blago meni!
Mnogo je dana, mnogo godina,
Mnogo je gorkih bilo istina;
Mnogo mi puta drhtaše grudi,
Mnogo mi srca cepaše ljudi;
Mnogo sam kaj’o, mnogo grešio,
I hladnom smrću sebe tešio;
Mnogu sam gorku čašu popio,
Mnogi sam komad suzom topio.
O majko, majko! o mila seni!
Otkad te, majko, nisam video,
Nikakva dobra nisam video!…
Il’ možda misliš: „Ta dobro mu je,
Kad ono tiho tkanje ne čuje
Što pauk veze žicom tananom
Nad onim našim crnim tavanom:
– Među ljud’ma si, među bližnjima“…

Al’ zlo je, majko, biti međ’ njima:
Pod ruku s zlobom pakost putuje,
S njima se zavist bratski rukuje,
A laž se uvek onde nahodi
Gde ih po svetu podlost provodi;
Laska ih dvori, izdajstvo služi,
A nevera se sa njima druži…
O majko, majko, svet je pakostan,
Život je, majko, vrlo žalostan!

Midnight Pop

The Falling of Leaves

The Falling of Leaves

By Jovan Dučić

She walked silent, cold, beside me,
With no silver tear in her bleary eye;
All around us dead vervains lay free,
An old river was wholly enveloped by

The falling eve. Her stride was like
A step of solitude, sad and gentle so.
Sorrow-laden we were, beset by like
Tearless anguish and the same woe.

The dark ill night with dust did smear
Alleys of plane-trees and the lakeside;
Our frail hearts were all filled with fear
Yonder where everything quietly died.

When the eve ever dimmer did grow,
And in cold silence our lips gently met
All terrified we felt that each kiss, woe!
Meant the death of another minute yet.

With ev’ry heartbeat something dies, o!
Ev’ry wish fears it will quench a breath!
And this November, grey and dreary so,
There is no Life other than in Death!

Translated from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

PADANjE LIŠĆA

Koračaše nema, hladna, pored mene,
Bez srebrne suze u mutnome oku;
Kraj nas behu mrtve ruže i vrbene,
Padalo je veče na vodu široku

Stare jedne reke. Njen je korak bio
Kô korak samoće, nečujan i setan.
Besmo tako tužni; nas tištaše tiho
Isti jad bez suza i bol istovetan.

Mrak bolesne noći zasipaše prahom
Platane po vrtu, jezero prozirno;
Naša srca behu ispunjena strahom
Tuda, gde sve tako umiraše mirno.

I kad u to veče što sve većma mrači,
Približismo usta što ledeno ćute,
Vaj, mi osetismo, s užasom, da znači
I taj svaki poljub smrt jedne minute.

Svaki udar srca, smrt nečeg što živi!
Svaka želja strepi da će nešto strti!
U ovaj novembar čamotni i sivi,
Ne postoji Život drugde neg u Smrti.

After the Funeral

After the Funeral

By Laza Kostić

I buried my love
Deep into the ground,
Spirits and demons whereat
Their abode have found.

Seraphim all flew thereat
And kissed her wholly so,
Cherubs and seraphs, yet
She quietly sleeps below.

The rays of sun fell anon
Her grave to kiss in her sleep,
And the clouds settled on
Bitter tears to weep.

Seraphs and cherubs thereat,
Kissed her wholly so,
So did rays and clouds, yet
She quietly sleeps below.

Another seraph came nigh,
A new ray from the godly shroud,
Another cherub from up high,
And another weeping cloud.

The seraph on her lips,
The godly ray on her breast,
The frail cherub upon her hips,
In her eyes the cloud doth rest.

She bowed her head
‘Fore the grave kneeling down,
The dew she softly shed
On the grass and flowers around.

Beneath that seraphic dew,
Beneath the dew of grace,
Can the late maiden true
Be asleep in that holy place?

She’s not asleep at this hour
How could she be asleep? –
Suddenly burst the divine power
To smash the grave down deep.

Seraphs came nigh as they did start
To chant to her and applaud:
“Transfigured thou art,
Have mercy, o dear God!”

Translated from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

POSLE POGREBA 

Sahranio sam ljubav
duboko u zemlju,
de dusi i vampiri
svoj konak uzimlju.

Prileteše zefiri,
celivaše je svi,
zefiri i lepiri —
al’ ona mirno spi.

Prileteli su zraci
da grob celivaju,
a siđoše oblaci
da suze livaju.

Zefiri i lepiri
celivaše je svi,
i zraci i oblaci
al’ ona mirno spi.
Još priđe jedan zefir,
još jedan božji zrak,
još jedan loman lepir
i isplakan oblak.

Na usti’ noćni zefir,
u grudma božji zrak,
u struku loman lepir,
u očima oblak.

Priklonila je glavu
i klekla nad grobom,
orosila je travu
i cveće pod sobom.

Pod tom anđelskom rosom,
pod rosom milosti,
zar može pokojnica,
zar može još da spi?

Ta kako bi još spila,
ta kako, kako bi? —
prekipnu božja sila
i grob se razdrobi.
Prileteše zefiri,
zapojaše joj svi:
„preobrazil sja jesi,
o Bože milosti!”

Raffaels_Angels

Good Night

Good Night

By Vojislav Ilić

Good night, good night,
The sun’s setting behind the hill,
As the last light fades away;
Thro’ the meads and dales so still,
The night sneaks up on the day.
Everything now lies in repose,
The dew falls and the breeze blows,
Good night!
Like the ruffle of a calm sea
A soft voice disturbs the still,
‘Tis an angel descending, free
Treading from above the hill…
Good night, good night.
Before the crack of fair dawn
Before the first light of day,
May a sweet sleep carry us on
Thro’ oblivion and away –
Peace reigns supreme. Like a sigh,
The holy voices soon shall die…
Good night!

Translated from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

LAKU NOĆ

Laku noć, laku noć,
Sunce tone za planine,
I posljednji trne zrak;
Kroz poljane i doline
Prikrada se crni mrak.
Svud spokojstvo tiho vlada,
Lahor šumi, rosa pada,
Laku noć!
Kô šuštanje mirnog mora
Kroz tišinu bruji glas,
To anđeo povrh gora
Tiho slazi među nas . . .
Laku noć, laku noć.
Dok ne svane zora plava.
Dok ne grane beli dan,
Po pučini zaborava
Nek nas vodi slatki san —
Mir je. Tiho kô uzdasi
Izumiru sveti glasi…
Laku noć!

3256x1792 Good Night All My Friends Wallpaper Preview

I Love Thee, Darling!

I Love Thee, Darling!

By Vojislav Ilić

Silence descends as in draws twilight,
All universe is sinking into tranquility.
The evening star is glimmering bright:

Everyone is merry – everyone but me!
Disquiet is sealed within my heart, alas,
My woeful heart that beats so lovingly!

Thro’ quiet meads my heart shall pass
Towards a more wonderful land far away:
From her sleep to wake my darling lass

To the tune of a flute, with a sigh no gay.
Or to whisper to her like a fair breeze:
I love thee, darling, more than I can say.

Translation from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

LjUBIM TE, DUŠO!

Sumračak pada; tišina se svija,
U milu tone vasiona sva;
Večernja zvezda treperi i sija:

Veselo sve je – samo nisam ja!
Nemir mi stiskô umorene grudi,
Nesrećno srce što ljubiti zna!

Kroz tiha polja srdašce mi žudi
Daleko tamo, u bajniji svet:
Da zlato svoje iza sanka budi

Uz glasak frule, uz uzdisaj klet…
Il’ da joj šapne povetarcem blagim:
Ljubim te, dušo, više nego svet.

The Old Maid

The Old Maid

By Veljko Petrović

When I see you in a black, dowdy gown,
With dim eyes and sagging breasts, too,
At a dull party as look’d on with a frown
Of disdain and contempt,  I so pity you!

They grasp not what those lines mean:
No worthy libertine and no wanton fair.
Intact, pure, a sweet bud in an icy ravine,
Undaunted you bear their wicked stare.

With those eyes of a sleepy nightingale,
And the soul of a pure child you stride,
Stiff and funny, as the vile men your frail
And unloved form scoff at and deride.

Calmly you walk, your grey hair loose is let,
You superfluous virtue amid many a wrong,
Like the doleful odour of a faded mignonette,
Like, at the time of the cancan, an old song.

As you walk thro’ the chorus of wicked grins
You are deeply imbued with an air of gloom.
That is your supremacy o’er the world of sins,
The powerful beauty of an untouched bloom.

Eternal virginity, your sadness has no end!
O victorious power, how futile you may be!
O object of general pity, victim, sister, friend,
O princess married to a lily, do forgive me!

O in that tiny lap of yours let me now lay
This silly heart that will not long endure,
Whipp’d by the wind of passion day by day,
Like yourself it is still innocent and pure.

Translated from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

USEDELICA

Kada te u crnom, starinskom odelu,
S ugašenim okom i prsima spalim,
Vidim na dosadnom kako te poselu
Podrugljivo motre, – ja te silno žalim!

Ne shvataju oni tu tragiku bora:
Ni pustolov vrsni, ni bludnica časna.
Nedirnuta, čista, cvet ledenih gora,
Ti ne primaš rđu pogleda prelasna.

S očima slavuja što u mraku kunja
Ti hodiš sa dušom malokrvnog čeda,
Ukočena, smešna, – dok se porok šunja
I negrljen stas ti sa grohotom gleda.

No ti hodiš mirno, gladiš svoje sede,
Izlišna vrlino u orgiji mana,
Kao tužni miris uvele rezede.
Kao stara pesma u dobu kankana.

I dok hodiš kroza šibu zlobnog smeha
Oreolom tebe ozarava seta.
To je tvoja nadmoć nad kalugom greha,
Ta snažna lepota netaknutog cveta.

Devičanstvo večno, o duboka tugo!
O pobedna silo, čista jalovosti!
O žalosti opšta, – žrtvo, sestro, drugo,
O krinom venčana kneginjo, oprosti!

I daj da u krilo to položim usko
Ovo ludo srce što prestaje biti,
Što ga vihor strasti vekovima pljusk’o,
Al’ što osta časno, naivno k’o i ti.

IntheStreet_Clausen

А Transitional Generation

А Transitional Generation

By Milan Rakić

It was Lord’s will to create me diverse,
In the land where life is dull and dreary;
Days go by, neither better nor worse,
Grey, they sink into an infinity bleary.

A different soul have I given unto me,
And with it new desires and new needs,
As here I suffer the slings of ill destiny,
I crave another world where my soul leads.

I, the drifter, am perpetually on the go
‘Twixt the realms of things and of desire:
As one besets me like some enemy dire,
The other flowers covertly does throw.

Therefore I shall perish in destiny’s storm,
The vindictive time will trample me upon,
For I am beyond it, my blood is all warm,
I do not tread the path that is walked on.

I shall crumble and fall and so will all who
Were born with restless souls, in the land
Of philistine passion and wrongs planned,
When some strange feelings we do pursue!

Such is our destiny! Nobody will know
That we used to be the first, albeit small,
And that on our posterity we did bestow,
A new language with new feelings all.

For it was Lord’s will to create us diverse,
At the age of living a life dull and dreary,
When days are neither better nor worse,
And people are lukewarm, simple, weary…

Translated from the Serbian by:
Ljiljana Parović

ПРЕЛАЗНО ПОКОЛЕЊЕ

Господ је тако хтео да ме створи
У земљи где се монотоно живи;
Промичу дани ни бољи ни гори,
И, сиви, клизе у недоглед сиви.

А сâм сам себи другу душу дао,
И с њоме чежње и потребе нове,
И док ме овде гњечи удес зао,
У пределе ме друге душа зове.

И, шеталица, ја се вечно крећем
Између света чезнућа и ствари:
Један ме гони као крвник стари,
А други кришом посипа ме цвећем.

А судбина ће зато да ме смрви,
И осветничко време да ме згази,
Јер сам ван њега, узавреле крви,
И не корачам по утртој стази.

Пропашћу и ја, и са мном сви они
Рођени с душом немирном, у дане
Ћифтинске страсти и намерне мане,
Кад необичан осећај се гони!

Таква је судба! Нико неће знати
Да некад бесмо први, премда мали,
Колену нашем да смо, као мати,
Нов језик с новим осећајем дали.

Јер Бог је тако хтео да нас створи
У доба кад се монотоно живи,
Кад дани нису ни бољи ни гори,
А људи млаки, једноставни, сиви…

Image result for milan rakić