MEMORIES.. Selma Kopic

 

The more life haunts me
and the more of them there are,
they feed my soul.
They are constantly waking up,
coming back, running away,
so, for me, sometimes it's easier,
sometimes it's harder.

I return to them whenever it's thick,
when there is no salvation out of nowhere,
when everything is empty,
when everything is deserted,
and when my head is full of problems.

It's those few days
when happiness blossomed for me everywhere,
and I, from the fertile branches,
watched it more and harvested less.

Maybe now, for the salvation of the soul,
there would be a little more food,
now that they are squeezing it,
when they are suffocating it,
if I had picked everything
that the branches were carrying.

Bitter is now all that food
that sleep and memory offer.
They bring back the youth and the past days,
but they awaken the old sorrow.

And yet this body of mine
is warm, alive, hot,
and now it would want
what it wasn't allowed before.

But it's all hard,
it's all pathetic,
because the branches have long been empty,
and the heart is still hungry.

USPOMENE

Što god me život više proganja
i njih je više, dušu mi hrane.
Stalno se bude, vraćaju, bježe
pa čas mi je lakše, čas mi je teže.

Njima se vraćam kad god je gusto,
kad spasa niotkuda nema,
kad sve je prazno, kad sve je pusto,
i glava kad vrvi od problema.

To je ono malo dana
kad sreća za mene svuda je cvala,
a ja je, sa plodnih grana,
više gledala, a manje brala.

Možda bi sada, za spas duše,
bilo i malo više hrane,
sad kad je stišću, kada je guše,
da obrah sve što nosiše grane.

Gorka je sada sva ta hrana
što san je i sjećanje nude.
Vraćaju mladost i prošle dane,
al' staru tugu bude.

A još je ovo moje tijelo
toplo, živo, vrelo,
i sad bi htjelo ono
što ranije nije smjelo.

Al' sve je to teško,
sve je to jadno,
jer grane su odavno puste,
a srce još uvijek gladno.