Noćas po meni kao ptice bele
padaju neke lepršave misli
stihovi krpice (zakrpe za srce)
da varku od slova prišijem na nadu
da je još vremena da se sve ponovi
ptice moje lažne zasejte mi snove. .
Tonight, like white birds
some fluttering thoughts fall
patch lyrics (heart patches)
to sew a trick of letters on hope
that there is still time to repeat everything
my false birds sow my dreams. .
. . .klicama nadanja da opet isklija u onu pređašnju kad je bilo krila
za krilarte pesme izatkane letom vilinog konjica
sa suncem u stihu i kišom u sroku
prosipajte noćas po mojim snovima
sve pređašnje vatre skupljene pod krila. . .
sprouts of hope to sprout again in the past when there were wings
for winged songs woven with the flight of dragonflies
with the sun in verse and rain in verse
spill over my dreams tonight
all previous fires gathered under wings. . .
. . .raspirite iskre ispod pepelišta
tu gde je zaspala moja bolja strana
iz boljeg vremena
kad sam bila ljubav i volela sebe
jer me on voleo. . .
fan the sparks under the ashtray
where my better side fell asleep
from a better time
when I was love and loved myself
because he loved me. . .
. . .ptice moje pozne nemojte ni glasa
dajte mi tišine u sivo svanuće
kad se san završi
i nekoj srećnijoj natrkrilite stvarnost
buđenjem u dvoje na njegovoj ruci
idite bezglasno kako ste mi došle. .
my late birds don't make a sound
give me silence in the gray dawn
when the dream is over
and change the reality to a happier one
waking up in two on his arm
leave silently as you came to me. .
. . .zalud ste doneli krpe od stihova
nisam švalja vična da zakrpe nitim
šav na šav da vežem na rite po duši
puštam da se cepam iz pesme na stvarnost
labudovom pesmom pozne pesnikinje. .
. . .you brought rags of verses in vain
I'm not a seamstress used to patching with thread
seam on seam to tie on the rite according to the soul
I let myself be torn from the song to reality
the swan song of late poets. .
. . .o praznim danima
u koje se budim iz sna o letenju
u kom još volim život
i ne mrzim sebe. 🦢
. . .about empty days
in which I wake up from a dream about flying
in which I still love life
and I don't hate myself. 🦢❤️
Text source: Swan song/Nena Miljanović
Pozdrav od Anke vragolanke.
Greetings from Anka vregolana!