detail from: KRK Art dizajn

“Dead poets society”

You never had your own, but somehow we all were yours.

You're not in Rome, Paris, or Berlin,

but under the celestial vault,

There in Studenica.

In your fragile ascetic body,

The entire universe is concealed.

You bow to everyone

Who has come to you in homage.

Your gaze kisses them and

Calls them to repentance.

Your hands embrace them, and for love

As if you were not on a white wall.

You never had your own, but somehow we all were yours.

You're not in Rome, Paris, or Berlin,

but under the celestial vault,

There in Studenica.

Njegos

 Tragic hero of the Kosovo idea

Divjak

To Filip Višnjić and other blind ones

While the sun scorched the earth, while

Black crows feasted on human bones

A Serbian hero wounded lay beneath

A slender pine, and the pine had bowed.

The hero weeps, the Divjak weeps, the pine weeps

The hero forgot his wounds

But he weeps for the Divjak alone

His tears are a sharp blade and pain.

Then the Divjak proudly descends and

Kisses his master and mourns

He mourns his tamer and himself.

"Kosovo has consumed my only one

All the lords have fallen, gone

Now I have no one to serve with my heart."

...

Grey falcon, you furious bird

Why in every forest do you take flight

And soar above every golden-winged one

Are you afraid now for yourself

Or have you already desired another

Master!

Let me croak and sing in anguish:

I haven't tucked my wings

In fear, my dear master

Nor have I folded them for another

But I've broken my own wings

Out of sorrow and grief for your

Pearl-woven villa and

Your old, graying mother

You've deserted your villa

And with grief, you've aged your mother

Master!

Your mother sheds bitter tears:

Her only son begged on

Vidovdan to light a candle and

Bless him with incense

Master!

Your proud villa is now lonely with grief

Isolated under the burning sun

Clouds hide her from every

Dear little star, her cousin

Now dying and fading away

And the mountain died with her

Danica, the brightest, would share

The sorrow and pain, she'd know

But all the bells stopped like they did once

Don't you hear in the distance a child

No more offering to share

As if it shared with us when

The lamb now spills wine and

The blood of the Lord

Master!

Divjak (alternative and more archaic translation)

To Filip Višnjić and oth'r blind souls

Whilst the sun did scorch the earthen field,

Black crows supped on human bones revealed,

A Serbian hero, wounded, lay beneath

A slender pine, and the pine had bowed.

The hero weeps, the Wild One weeps, the pine weeps—

The hero's wounds have slipped his mem'ry's keep,

Yet tears do fall for the Wild One alone,

His tears, a keen-edg'd dagger, pain doth own.

Then the Wild One, proudly, did descend,

Kissing his master and mourning, a faithful friend.

He mourns his tamer and himself as one.

"Kosovo hath consumed mine only kin,

Lords have fallen, none remain therein.

No more a heart to serve, bereft am I."

...

Grey falcon, thou furious fowl,

Wherefore dost thou in each forest prowl?

Soaring 'bove each golden-winged one's domain,

Art thou now in fear for thine own bane,

Or hath another desire in thee sprouted?

Master!

Let me croak and sing in wretchedness:

Mine own wings remain untucked,

In fear, dear master, I have not succumbed,

Nor have I folded them for another's reign,

But mine own wings have I fractured,

In sorrow and grief for thy

Pearl-woven villa and

Thy haggard, graying mother,

Thou hast abandoned thy villa

And with grief, aged thy mother.

Master!

Thy mother sheds bitter tears:

Her only son entreated on

Vidovdan to light a candle and

Bless him with incense.

Master!

Thy proud villa is now lonely with grief,

Isolated beneath the burning sun's motif,

Clouds obscure her from each

Dear little star, her cousin,

Now fading away and dying,

And the mountain with her did die.

Danica, the brightest, would share

The sorrow and pain, she'd be aware,

But all the bells ceased as they once did.

Dost thou not hear in the distance a child,

No longer offering to share,

As if it shared with us when

The lamb now spills wine and

The blood of the Lord.

Master!

To Aleksa

To my brother Aleksa from Mostar

Dear brother,

I'm writing to you,

What else could I do?

I heard that you've been ailing these days,

From sorrow,

From loneliness,

From an empty garden.

Wishing you a speedy recovery!

Sending you these wishes from my small room.

Unpublished Poem by Branko Miljković

My thoughts extend throughout your entire body,

Their sharpness knows no end,

If you can, forgive me.

Look at the sky spread between your fingers,

Then you'll understand,

The words I vainly awaken are a living image,

A play of fire and death,

From one word, I could be born, and from

One, I could die, and

Be forever forgotten.

If I ever existed in this world,

It had to be only with you.

Discovered on August 14, 2020.

Bob Dylan

Your breath is sweet,

Eyes like two jewels in the sky.

Back straight, hair graceful

On the pillow where you lie.

There, I feel no inclination,

You are without gratitude and love.

You are not loyal to me

But to the stars in the sky.

Your father is a renegade,

A wanderer by trade.

He'll teach you everything

And how to take someone's life.

He oversees his kingdom,

To ensure no stranger strays.

His voice trembles as he calls,

...

Our dear sister sees the future,

Just like your mother and you.

You never learned to read and write,

No books on your shelf.

Your pleasure knows no bounds,

Your voice is like a nightingale's song.

But your heart is like an ocean,

Mysterious and dark.

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