Bitter Poem

Pjesma gorka (BITTER POEM by Dobriša Cesarić;
translated by Davor Juričić in 2012)


What's so cold, and bitter, and grey
That grows in my soul like ivy?
Is it dusk? Really dusk already?
Or just a shadow, passing and savvy?

What now? To babble as if glad,
To hide wounds behind humour;
As if one could hide anything bad:
Sorrow is sorrow, and tumor is tumor.

Dear man! You, who have yet to come,
And light up the world with your heart,
Don't fool yourself and let not be fooled -
Fold down your wings and tear them apart!

Local fiests are funny brawls,
And folk howl, rave and rile.
Fate, that pours wine to others,
To you, it will pour bile.

Well, drink up, buddy, drink, 
And try not to be melancholy-bound.
Don't fret, after each sip,
Your neighbour will bring the next round.