Let the new poem wait.. Selma Kopic

On plain paper,
of messy letters in my head,
the time is long overdue
to make the poem new.
On the already yellowed, old sheet,
stains, furrows, patterns,
crumpled, torn edges,
and countless times written
one and the same name,
don't allow bright, cheerful rhymes
to sprout on the new page.
And just about every time
when the arm moves
some new lines to write,
pretending determination,
courage and strength,
I see that one and the same name
and feel
one furrow,
painful but dear.
And I let go...
Let the new poem wait ...
Let it slowly germinate and ripen
until time clears the furrow
and until fades
what was before.

PJESMA NOVA NEKA ČEKA

Na čistom papiru,
od u glavi zbrkanih slova,
vrijeme je odavno
da pjesma nastane nova.
Na listu već požutjelom starom
mrlje, brazde, šare,
zgužvani, poderani rubovi,
i bezbroj puta ispisano
jedno te isto ime,
ne daju da na novoj strani
niknu svijetle, vedre rime.
I baš svaki put
kada ruka krene
neke nove retke da ispiše,
hineći odlučnost, hrabrost i snagu,
ugledam ono jedno te isto ime,
osjetim
jednu brazdu, bolnu, al' dragu.
I pustim...
Pjesma nova neka čeka...
Neka polako klija i zrije
dok vrijeme brazde ne izbriše
i dok ne izblijedi
što je bilo prije.