MALO LI JE

(Pesma za nikog i za svakog)


Oteli ste mi ognjište,
kuću i baštu,
višnje u cvetu
i stari orah,
grobove
da na njima ni slova
ne prepoznam.

U mom krevetu,
na jastuku spavate,
snivate krvave božure,
pokriveni mojim ćilimima
što ih je majka,
kao devojka tkala.

Iz mog putira,
za mojim stolom
ispijate crveno vino,
moju krv,
iz sedam vinograda metohijskih.

U mojim cipelama
gazite niz dečačke pute,
pod starom lipom,
kad najlepše zamiriše.

U mom kaputu odaginjete stud
u prvo predvečerje,
kad puhne povetarac
sa Veternika i Dragodana.

Ej ! Malo li je ?

I pesme ,moje
oteste
u njima stihovi,ravnice
i suncokreti,
žitna polja nepregledna,
sa zalutalim makovima,
kao zvezde na nebu.

Hiljadu i petstotina pesama,
malo li je ?
Zlikovci !

HABIT

Out of habit,

I open the door

of memory

in the old bag are roads.

Visitations, countlessness,

carefully packed

and sorted.

Out of habit,

I unlock the door of north

I walk with light steps,

lighting lanterns,

wick of a thousand centuries.

AS A GAME OF BUTTERFLIES

To get back

on the river banks

and then forget

sacred ash

carried away by the wind.

Then when flickers the leaf

and heart

little story from the lips comes out,

when  shadows await

on the coast

a feeling is getting stronger in the bosom.

To get back

among sunflowers

in the minds of the poem

which it came.

Out of the darkness to emerge,

from the drunkenness of old red wine

on the bank of the river,

to see me,

under the tree’s crown shadow will lean on.

In the boat are all memories

When the first wave comes,

a powerful moment as the game of butterflies

remains,

on the bank of the river to get back.