by DobriÅ¡a Cesarić (1902 – 1980)
|
Kakvi to glasovi cuju se u mraku, Nadlijece sebe i oblake trome, Nije li vrijeme da gnijezdo vije? Ne mari za to poludjela ptica. |
Who is it that sings in the night It soars above lazy clouds, Should not it be in its nest now? It worries not, this crazy bird aflight. |
This paper published in the Arab Journal for the Arts looks interesting:
“Tribal belonging in Pre-Islamic poetry (Between kinship and the awareness of kinship)” by Ali Asha, Department of Arabic, Faculty of Science and Arts, Al Hashimia University, Zarqa, Jordan.
The study looks at tribal belonging in Pre-Islamic poetry through studying some selected models of this poetry. In addition, considering poetry as the prominent factor for the cultural identity for Pre-Islamic community, the study investigates the social structure of the Arabic Pre-Islamic community and its integration in Pre-Islamic poem.
[…]
This kinship awareness made the poetic self try to create balance between power and truth, seeking “compliment� and “praise� and at the same time to resist the crumbling situation of the community that was exhausted by tribal conflict and dispute.
|
Stajati pred bijelim papirom, Jos neispisanim, i znati: Dosad su sastavljeni milijuni pjesama Na svim jezicima Svijeta I za milijune ljudi na Zemlji Spremljeno je vec oruzje da ih unisti — A ti hoces da se cuje i tvoj krik: Mir Svijetu! Sloboda Svijetu! I svakome na stolu kruh! |
Standing before a blank sheet of paper Not a single word on it, I realize; Men have written millions of poems In every language of the World For the millions of people on Earth There is a weapon ready to destroy them — But you also want your cry to be heard: Peace to the World! Freedom to the World! Bread on the table for everyone! |
Slaboca (Frailty)
by Tin Ujević (1891 – 1955)
Po ovoj magli, ovoj kii –
o pjano srce, ne uzdii.Ti ljubilo si uzaludu,
a sada ite rodnu grudu,i tvoja enja, vapaj roba,
trai odnekud pokoj groba.– Tu u skoro da izdahnem,
tu u skoro da usahnem,na naem plavom, plavom valu,
na naem bijelom, bijelom alu;i sve u nai to sam trebo
pod tvojim svodom, Sveto Nebo,plaveti sunca i vedrine
nad zemljom stare domovine.
I found a translation here, along with several of the Kolajna poems.
In this mist, in this rain –
Oh drunken heart, don’t drown in pain…
Books of Croatian poetry that have been translated into English are listed here (see section G).
I like the title of a book by Slavko Mihalić: Orchard of Black Apples, but I have not had much luck finding a copy. I also wonder if it could also be interpreted as Bad Apples? Then again, it seems there is a Black Twig Apple in the US that offers a very tart flavor and “gets better the longer you keep it”.
Hmmm, a very poetic-sounding apple indeed, not to mention it was widely known in the Eastern US during the early 19th Century and has even been called President Andrew Jackson’s favorite variety.
A list of other “black” varieties are listed here, including the “Black Spy”.
I know I’m taking this all to literally, but can you imagine an Orchard of Black Spies?