ima jos i ova

SPRING POEM
While watching all these early buds and swallows,
I can feel tonight
that my heart's slowly growing over sorrows
as someone's horizon on smiley days might;

that it's getting bigger like all plants around
and light as a feather,
and that all happiness that's above the ground
and a Hell of pain wouldn't really matter:

It's longing for all things that a life as such
could give nice to thy,
and completely nothing wouldn't be too much--
its eager desire and hopes are so high.

Everything that's happened has been just a play
of my heart on fire;
my true love has never been given away
as much as I could and as I desire;

There are, in my deeps, gentle tides of words
never let outside;
I could give my heart to everyone on worlds,
yet, it would remain a lot of it inside.

BLOODY FAIRY TALE
It happened in a land of farmers on hilly Balkan
far, far away;
a troop of students
died martyred
on one single day.

They were all born
in the same year.
For all of them, the school days were the same:
They were all taken
to the same festivities with cheer,
they were all vaccinated
until the last name,
and they all died on the same day.

It happened in a land of farmers on hilly Balkan
far, far away;
a troop of students
died martyred
on one single day.

And only fifty-five minutes
prior the death moment,
a small group of fidgets
sat beside their school desks
solving the same hard math quest:
"If a traveler goes by foot,
how much time does he need to rest..."
and so on.

Their thoughts were filled
with same figures and tags
and there was a countless amount
of senseless As and Fs
in their notebooks and in their bags.
They were squeezing
a whole bunch of secrets that mattered--
either a patriotic or a love letter--
on the bottom of their pockets.
And everyone of them supposed
that they would for a long time,
for a very, very long time
run under the blue sky--
until all math quests in the world
were solved and gone by.

It happened in a land of farmers on hilly Balkan
far, far away;
a troop of students
died martyred
on the very same day.

Whole rows of boys
took each other's hands
and leaving the last school class
went to the execution quietly,
as death was nothing but a smile.
At the same moment,
all the friends in rows were
lifted up to the eternal domicile.

Prevela Dragana Konstantinovic

ja ovo nista ne razumem:)))

ne razumem engleski jezik, a kapiram da je zanimljivo s obzirom na interesovanja tvoja!!!!