Stolac (city).. Selma Kopic

I recently found myself

in the ancient city

who arranges meetings

in honor of a fellow citizen,

poet,

and his work.

In dead streets

there is no living thing,

neither humans nor cats;

as if,

besides the poet's statue,

there is not

a single bright spot;

it's like playing hide and seek

around a Stone Sleeper.

In the dark,

a baby cry was heard.

Resounds

and it bounces off the walls

of stone houses,

off the branches

of centuries-old solid trees.

It rippled

a handful of poetic souls,

overpowered, for a moment,

the verses of the great poet.

It was the only sign of life

and a sign

that isn't dead

this dead beauty.

STOLAC

Nađoh se skoro

U drevnom gradu

Koji organizira susrete

U čast sugrađaninu, pjesniku,

I njegovom radu.

U mrtvim ulicama

Nema živa stvora,

Ni čovjeka, ni mačke;

K'o da,

Osim pjesnikove biste,

Nema ni jedne svijetle tačke;

K'o da se igraju skrivača

Oko kamenog spavača.

U mrklom mraku

Začu se plač djeteta.

Odjekuje

I odbija se o zidove

Kuća kamenih,

O grane

Stoljetnih stabala stamenih.

Šačicu pjesničkih duša

Uskomeša.

Zagluši na tren

Stihove pjesničke gromade.

To bi jedini trag života

I znak

Da nije mrtva

Ta mrtva ljepota.