Kupi­la sam plavu ružu.
(mod­ro plavu)
Kinesku.  Od drve­ta koje liči na papir.
Baš lepo izgle­da.
Sebi sam je kupi­la.
Moja ljubav je negde
razmišl­jala raču­nala poredi­la
da li se ova ljubav isplati.

Dan je bio lep ali povučen,
kao lju­di pred kišu.
Ručala sam vino i salatu.  Odspavala.
I pomis­lila na redovnost.
Mada sam san­jala neš­to
strašno, požar, užas, kraj.
Uverlji­vo.
Mis­lim da smo svi izgore­li,
a posle pevali.

Ali nisam sig­ur­na.
Tak­va se budim.

 

 

ATTENTION

 

I bought myself a dark blue rose.
Chi­neese. Made of wood resem­bling paper.
It is beau­ti­ful, it is indeed.
I bought it for myself.
My love was some­where
think­ing cal­cu­lat­ing weigh­ing
whether this love was worthwhile.

The day was nice but sub­dued,
like peo­ple before the rain.
I had wine and sal­ad for lunch. I took a nap.
And I thought of ordi­nary things
alhough I had a dream of some­thing
dread­ful, with fire, a ter­ror, a final end­ing.
It was con­vinc­ing.
I would say we were all burnt out,
and singing afterwards.

But I am not sure.
That’s how I wake up.

 

Poèmes traduits du serbe en anglais par l’auteur

Poem from the col­lec­tion Twen­ty Poems About Love and One Love Poem – Dvade­set pesama o ljubavi i jed­na ljubavna

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