ŠTO TE NEMA (Aleksa Šantic)

ŠTO TE NEMA via Branimir Štulic

Kad na mlado poljsko cvijece

biser niže ponoc nijema,

kroz grudi mi želja lijece:

što te nema, što te nema?

Kad mi sanak pokoj dade

i duša se miru sprema,

kroz srce se glasak krade:

što te nema, što te nema?

Vedri istok kad zarudi

u trepetu od alema,

i tad duša pjesmu budi:

što te nema, što te nema?

I u casu bujne srece,

i kad tuga uzdah sprema,

moja ljubav pjesmu krece:

što te nema, što te nema?

E moj konjicu bijeli, moje desno krilo!

Gdje je doba ono, gdje su dani oni, kad je

srce puno rahatluka bilo? Znaš li case

one: pozno sunce grije, vrhovi munara

kao vatra gore; a svuda iz baštica miris

dula vije. Mi se povracamo iz lova, iz

gore; a ona na svojim demir-pendzerima

stoji ljepša od veceri i od sabah zore:

na me ceka, gleda i casove broji kad cu

proci. A ja, kad bih blizu bio, slao bih joj

pozdrav kuburlija svojih. Ona sa pendzera

dul i behar mio prosula bi hitro, i ko

snijeg na me pahuljice meke padale su

tiho, kao da su sevdah cutile i same.

O kako je tada puno sunca bilo! A sad?

Svuda mutni oblaci i tame?

Kako mi je srce jadno, kao da ga neko

bode, te sve place i sve pita: kuda moja

mladost ode? Je li griješna sabah zora,

il nebeska sjajna zvijezda; je li griješna

ljubav moja, kao ptica iz gnijezda, ko glas

ptice iz gnijezda? Je li grešna sabah zora,

il nebeska sjajna zvijezda; de mi to prode

ljubav moja, kao ptica iz gnijezda, ko glas

ptice iz gnijezda?...

***

WHY YOU AREN'T HERE

(Aleksa Šantic)

When on the young field-flowers

mute midnight strings the pearl,

desire flies through my chest:

Why aren't you here, why aren't you here?

When a dream gave me repose

and the soul is preparing for peace,

through heart the voice is sneaking:

Why aren't you here, why aren't you here?

When the serene east glows

in the wink of knowledge,

and the soul is awaking the song:

Why aren't you here, why aren't you here?

And in the moment of dense happiness,

and when the sorrow's preparing a sigh,

my love is starting a song:

Why aren't you here, why aren't you here?

O thou my horsee bright, my right-hand wing!

Where have those times gone, where are those

days, when a heart was full of sweetness either?

Do you know those hours: late sun is warming,

tops of minarets lighting like a fire, and everywhere

from the gardens smell of the roses swirling. We are

returning from hunting, from a mountain; and there

she stands at her oriels prettier than evening and

the morning dawn: waiting for me, overlooking

and counting hours when I will pass by. But me,

when I was nearby, I would send her a regards

of my holsters. And from her windows she will

dear rose blossom quickly spill, and like a snow

soft flakes were falling down silently on me,

as if they feel the blues of itself. Oh, it was much

sunshine then! And now? All hazy clouds and darkness...

How my heart is miserable, like someone is sticking

into it, it cries and asks all over again: where my

youth did go? Is it the mourning dawn sinfull, or

a sky shining star; is my love sinfull, like a bird

from a nest, like a voice of a bird from a nest?

Is it the dawning gold sinfull, or a sky shining

star; where my love did go, like a bird from

a nest, like a voice of a bird from a nest?...