The Immortal Poem, by Miroslav Antić
I
If they tell you - I am dead,
and you held me dear to your heart,
something inside you might
suddenly turn to grey.
Upon your lashes - the mist will land.
Upon your lips - an ashy hint.
Have you ever pondered what it means to be living?
Have you ever pondered what it means to be dead?
Like a snowflake in your warm palm,
The child inside you will slowly
Melt away.
Worries…
Why worry?
Sadness…
Why be sad?
Upon the ladder of imagination
into your youth, climb bravely.
The ever-elusive rainbow is waiting beautifully,
Out there for you to come.
And live!
Live your life to the fullest.
Don't nibble at your days like a scared mouse.
Chew the air with ample breaths,
Chase after the winds and outfly the birds.
For, every eternity is too short.
That smile,
the mirror reflects at you, will soon reveal your wrinkled face.
Before long, the corner of your eye will harbour new tears.
The troubles arrive on tiptoes, beware.
The years turn each bright day to grey.
Pretty soon the world`s path, as you walk it,
Will more and more narrow its way,
and the smile you once wore upon your face
will diminish, your laughter will have lost its trace.
That's why you must live to the fullest!
I lived that way, too.
In a half of a century, merely
I managed to roam many centuries, you know.
And let me confess - many a time I've been a fool.
At times I stood upside down,
But you could never find me standing still.
I moved on, forever.
And I moved at will…
From your aorta draw, instead of blood
A gilded thread of endurance,
and sew the seams at the parted places of your heart
from where the astonishment trembles.
And never imagine life
As some lonesome forgiveness,
Rather, as neverending welcomes
and the constant beginning of awakenings.
Translation by Ana Sunaric
Short biography
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mika_Anti%C4%87https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mika_Anti%C4%87
In Serbian https://balasevic.in.rs/miroslav-mika-antic-besmrtna-pesma/
Written for his son.
If they tell you - I am dead,
and you held me dear to your heart,
something inside you might
suddenly turn to grey.
Upon your lashes - the mist will land.
Upon your lips - an ashy hint.
Have you ever pondered what it means to be living?
Have you ever pondered what it means to be dead?
Like a snowflake in your warm palm,
The child inside you will slowly
Melt away.
Worries…
Why worry?
Sadness…
Why be sad?
Upon the ladder of imagination
into your youth, climb bravely.
The ever-elusive rainbow is waiting beautifully,
Out there for you to come.
And live!
Live your life to the fullest.
Don't nibble at your days like a scared mouse.
Chew the air with ample breaths,
Chase after the winds and outfly the birds.
For, every eternity is too short.
That smile,
the mirror reflects at you, will soon reveal your wrinkled face.
Before long, the corner of your eye will harbour new tears.
The troubles arrive on tiptoes, beware.
The years turn each bright day to grey.
Pretty soon the world`s path, as you walk it,
Will more and more narrow its way,
and the smile you once wore upon your face
will diminish, your laughter will have lost its trace.
That's why you must live to the fullest!
I lived that way, too.
In a half of a century, merely
I managed to roam many centuries, you know.
And let me confess - many a time I've been a fool.
At times I stood upside down,
But you could never find me standing still.
I moved on, forever.
And I moved at will…
From your aorta draw, instead of blood
A gilded thread of endurance,
and sew the seams at the parted places of your heart
from where the astonishment trembles.
And never imagine life
As some lonesome forgiveness,
Rather, as neverending welcomes
and the constant beginning of awakenings.
Translation by Ana Sunaric
Short biography
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mika_Anti%C4%87https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mika_Anti%C4%87
In Serbian https://balasevic.in.rs/miroslav-mika-antic-besmrtna-pesma/
Written for his son.
Thanks very much for this and your other work. And thanks for visiting my blog a while back. Good luck with the work!
ReplyDeleteThank you very much Mr. Ostrom.
DeleteI don't know Serbian, so I can't compare the original with this translation. But I know English, and without considering it a translation and free from the burden of comparing every word of it with the original, reading it as a work in a language I know brings me the satisfaction of reading something extraordinary. It makes me want to translate it into my language.
ReplyDelete