゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜゜・
This poem is about the place we are constantly returning, and no matter what it is like we love it and call it home.
゜・。・゜゜・。。・゜゜・
It is written in Croatian and translated to English by me, and I’m not a good translator 😊
But the poem did not lost itself completely, poems never got lost, they always exist in their own world floating around us, waiting to catch them.
゜・。・゜゜・。。・゜゜・
Home
I can walk only trough the thicket.
I make myself very small
so climb up the branches
and nibble the sprigs.
I knit myself in dresses of cobweb,
smear out the berries on my face
and am waiting for birds to come.
So we talk
how cats are dangerous and
where are the best worms squirming.
Where I can walk
no moss is there
just warm rocks for sunbathing
and the sky and all roads
which you come back to me.
I can only walk trough the thicket
where are hidden
new secrets braided by the branches
guarded by army of spiders
without maps, with absent owners,
where the view at the stars is the best.
You know that, as the birds do.
And that cat. She is also coming back.
゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜゜・
Doma
Znam hodati samo po šipražju.
Jako se smanjim
pa se verem po granama
i grickam bodljice.
Pravim si haljine od paučine,
razmazujem bobice po licu
i čekam da naiđu ptice.
Pa pričamo
kako su mace opasne i
gdje se migolje najbolje gliste.
Tu gdje ja znam hodati
nema mahovine
samo toplo kamenje za sunčanje
i nebo i svi putevi
kojima mi se vraćaš.
Znam hodati samo po šipražju
gdje su zarasle
nove tajne granama opletene
čuvane vojskama paukova
bez mapa, odsutnih vlasnika,
gdje je pogled na zvijezde najbolji.
To znaš i ti, i ptice.
A i ona maca. I ona se stalno vraća.
゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜゜・
PS: I’m writing #poetry with my hand
and have special notebook for them!
゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜゜・
Thank you for your attention!
