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Из хорватской поэзии 21-01-2016 09:46 к комментариям - к полной версии - понравилось!


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Ti koja imaš ruke nevinije od mojih
i koja si mudra kao bezbrižnost.
Ti koja umiješ s njegova čela čitati
bolje od mene njegovu samoću
i koja otklanjaš spore sjenke,
kolebanja s njegova lica
kao što proljetni vjetar otklanja
sjene oblaka koje plove nad brijegom
Ako tvoj zagrljaj hrabri srce i
tvoja bedra zaustavljaju bol
ako je tvoje ime počinak njegovim usnama
njegovim mislima i tvoje grlo
hladovina njegovu ležaju
i noć tvojega glasa voćnjak
još nedodirnut olujama.
Onda ostani pazi njega
i budi pobožnija od sviju
koje su ga ljubile prije tebe
Boj se jeka što se priblužuju
nedužnim posteljama ljubavi
I blaga budi njegovu snu, 
pod nevidljivom planinom
na rubu mora koje huči
Šeći njegovim žalom. 
ožalošćne pliskavice
Tumaraj njegovom šumom
neće ti učiniti zla
I žedne zmije koje ukrotih
pred tobom će biti ponizne
Neka ti pjevaju ptice koje ja ogrijah
u noćima oštrih mrazova
Neka te miluje dječak kojeg zaštitih
od uhoda na pustom drumu
Neka ti miriše cvijeće
koje ja zalivah svojim suzama
Ja ne dočekah najljepše doba
njegove muškosti. Njegovu plodnost
ne primih u svoja njedra
koja su pustošili pogledi
goniča stoke na sajmovima
i pohlepnih razbojnika
Ja neću nikada voditi za ruku
njegovu djecu i priče
koje davno za njih pripremih
možda ću ispričati plačući
malim ubogim medvjedima
ostavljenoj crnoj šumi
Ti koja imaš ruke nevinije od mojih
ostani kraj njegova uzglavlja
i budi blaga njegovu snu!
"Ti koja imaš ruke nevinije od mojih", Vesna Parun - хорватская поэтесса (Стихи на хорватском языке)



Vesna Parun - You Having Hands More Innocent Than Mine

 
You having hands more innocent than mine
and being wise as carelessness
You who can read off his forehead
his solitude better than me,
and who remove slow shadows
of doubts off his face
as spring wind removes
shadows of clouds floating over the hill.
 
If your embrace emboldens the heart
and your thighs stop the pain,
if your name is a rest
to his thoughts, and your throat
a shade to his bed,
and night of your voice an orchard
still untouched by storms.
 
Then stay beside him
and be godlier than everyone
who loved him before you.
Fear the echoes approaching
innocent sheets of love.
And be gentle to his dream
under the invisible mountain
at the edge of the roaring sea.
 
Walk down his strand. Be met by
sorrowful dolphins.
Wander around his woods. Kind lizards
won't do you harm.
And thirsty snakes that I tamed
will be humble before you.
 
Let the birds that I kept warm
in the nights of sharp frosts sing to you.
Let the boy that I protected from stalkers
on a deserted road caress you.
Let the flowers that I watered with my tears
bring fragrance to you.
 
I did not witness the best years
of his manhood. His fruitfulness
I did not receive into my bosom
that was ravaged by gazes
of cattle drivers at fairs
and greedy thieves.
 
I will never walk hand in hand
with his children. And stories
that I prepared for them long time ago
I might tell crying
to little miserable bears
abandoned in black forest.
 
You having hands more innocent than mine,
be gentle to his dream
that remained harmless.
But let me see
his face, when onto him
unknown years will be descending.
And tell me sometimes a thing about him,
so I do not have to ask strangers
who marvel at me, and neighbours
who pity my patience.
 
You having hands more innocent than mine,
stay by his pillow
and be gentle to his dream.





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