TO FATHER, poem by Selma Kopić, Bosnia and Herzegovina

On your grave

I planted recently

an evergreen tree,

to green, to bloom,

to shine after rain,

as your soul pure

that rests there.

Since you're gone,

nothing's the same.

We are falling apart

and,

in memory of you

and everything you wanted,

we collect the pieces.

We quarrel, reconcile,

look crosswise.

Then, we remember

what you were like,

so we laugh, hug,

and care for each other.

You've been gone

for a long time.

And we no longer

cry for you.

Now,

over your grave,

we cry over ourselves.

(When he died, on April 8, 1993, he was as old as I am now.)

OCU

Na grobu tvom posadih skoro

zimzelen drvo.

Nek se zeleni, cvjeta, poslije kiše

blista

ko tvoja duša čista

što tu počiva.

Otkad te nema, ništa nije isto-

rasipamo se pa,

u spomen na tebe i sve što si htio,

komadiće skupljamo.

Svađamo se, mirimo,

poprijeko gledamo,

a onda se sjetimo

kakav si ti bio

pa se smijemo, grlimo,

brinemo jedni za druge.

Dugo te nema.

I ne plačemo više za tobom.

Sad nad tvojim grobom

mi plačemo nad sobom.