Milan Rakić – Iskrena pesma

O, sklopi usne, ne govori, ćuti,
ostavi misli nek se bujno roje,
i reč nek tvoja ničim ne pomuti
bezmerno silne osećaje moje.

Ćuti, i pusti da sad žile moje
zabrekću novim, zanosnim životom,
da zaboravim da smo tu nas dvoje
pred veličanstvom prirode; a potom,

kad prođe sve, i malaksalo telo
ponovo padne u običnu čamu,
i život nov i nadahnuće celo
nečujno, tiho potone u tamu,

ja ću ti, draga, opet reći tada
otužnu pesmu o ljubavi, kako
čeznem i stradam i ljubim te, mada
u tom trenutku ne osećam tako.

I ti ćeš, bedna ženo, kao vazda
slušati rado ove reči lažne,
i zahvalićeš bogu što te sazda,
i oči će ti biti suzom vlažne.

I gledajući vrh zaspalih njiva
kako se spušta nema polutama,
ti nećeš znati šta u meni biva -
da ja u tebi volim sebe sama,

i moju ljubav naspram tebe, kad me
obuzme celog silom koju ima,
i svaki živac rastrese i nadme,
i osećaji navale ko plima!

Za taj trenutak života i milja,
kad zatreperi cela moja snaga,
neka te srce moje blagosilja.
Al’ ne volim te, ne volim te, draga!

I zato ću ti uvek reći: ćuti,
ostavi dušu nek spokojno sniva,
dok kraj nas lišće na drveću žuti
i tama pada vrh zaspalih njiva.

English Translation

An Honest Song

O, close your lips, don’t talk, be quiet,
let your thoughts pollulate,
and may your word do nothing to spoil
my unmeasurably deep feelings.

Be quiet, and now let my veins
burst with a new, enchanting life,
so that I’d forget that the two of us are here
facing nature’s splendor; and then,

when it’s all over, and the exhausted body
again falls into plain boredom,
and the new life and the entire inspiration
silently, quietly sinks into the darkness,

Then I will, darling, again, tell you,
a trite poem of love, about
me longing and suffering and loving you, though
in that moment I might not feel that way.

And you, miserable woman, will, as always,
gladly listen to these false words,
and you will thank God for creating you,
and your eyes will be wet with tears.

And while watching the top of the sleeping fields
silent semidarkness falling,
you won’t know what’s going on inside me -
that the thing that I love about you is myself,

and my love before you, when it
comes over me with all its power,
and shakes up and inflates every nerve,
and the feelings come rushing like the tide!

For that moment of life and delight,
when all my strength trembles,
may my heart bless you.
But I don’t love you, I don’t love you, darling!

And that is why I will always tell you: be quiet,
let the soul dream peacefully,
while the tree leaves beside us are turning yellow
and the darkness is falling on top of the sleeping fields.

Requested Translation

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5 comments on “Milan Rakić – Iskrena pesma

  1. Bozidar Kornic says:

    I love poetry, I live poetry; it is the poems like this that touch me to the very core of my being. This poem is far more than just a love poem, it is in addition a very precise physiological description of the romantic, and the orgastic phenomenon called LOVE. Using the theatrical language, the raising action, the climax, and the most imporant, the denoument…it was just the orgasic love ‘Darling.’

  2. Spring Spring says:

    Although very poetical, that is a free interpretation of the poem. Too free not to butcher its essence.

  3. o says:

    AN HONEST DITTY

    Oh, seal thy lips! no words! be silent now;
    Dismiss my soul to peaceful reverie,
    With leaves all round us yellowing on the bough,
    While swallows to warm lands of sunshine flee.

    Oh, seal thy lips! keep still; be silent now;
    A host of thoughts are swarming – let them be:
    And, with thy parleying, disturb not thou
    Vast, boundless feelings that awake in me.

    Be silent; let my pulsing veins with new
    And rapturous life be flooded; thus we may
    Forget that I am here, alone with you,
    To gaze on nature’s majesty today.

    When all is over, and my slack body, tired,
    Sinks, as of old, into ennui profound,
    And all that new, rich life, so high-inspired,
    Drops into darkness, dumb, without a sound;

    Then, dear one, will I chant thee, as before,
    That love-song – which I loathe! – of how I pine,
    And suffer, and love thee. – None the less, be sure,
    Just then, that no such sentiments are mine . . .

    But thou, poor woman, with delight renewed
    Wilt lend an ear, as ever, to these lies,
    And praise thy Maker in pure gratitude,
    While tears of happiness bedew thine eyes.

    And thou wilt watch the twilight mutely fall
    Down on the slumbering leas: – but what may be
    Passing in me, thou wilt not know at all:
    - How it is just myself I love in thee:

    My love toward thee, ’tis for that I care
    Now when it clutches me with all its might
    And every swoln and quivering nerve lays bare,
    And the flood-tide of Feeling is at height.

    Life, at that moment, kindness too, runs high,
    And all my powers are quivering, tensely knit.
    Take thou my heart’s best blessing! – Not that I
    Care for thee, dear one, care for thee one bit!

    So, always will I say, “Be silent now;
    Dismiss my soul to peaceful reverie,
    With leaves all round us yellowing on the bough,
    While darkness falls upon the slumbering lea.”

  4. Spring Spring says:

    Hvala puno Zinajda! :)

  5. Zinajda Besic says:

    Ja nemam dovoljno rijeci da se zahvalim za obe pjesme.

    Prevodi su krasni.. Ja inace dobro govorim engleski, i danski i njemacki, ali se nikad nisam bavila bas prevodom poezije. To zahtijeva jezicku vjestinu iznad svakog prosjeka. A Vi je ocigledno posjedujete.

    Pozdrav

    ZInajda

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