An Anthology of Jugoslav Poetry; Serbian Lyrics Part 28

"Alas, how long nights are!

When sleeping near to mother; On nine soft mattresses, On nine softest cushions, 'Neath nine fine coverlets."

"Alas, how long nights are!

When sleeping near to brother; On nine soft mattresses, On nine softest cushions, 'Neath nine fine coverlets."

"Alas, how long nights are!

When sleeping near to sister; On nine soft mattresses, On nine softest cushions, 'Neath nine fine coverlets."

Cyclone downward rumbling, All the castle trembling.

In castle is a girl Crying, never ceasing: "Alas, how short the nights are!

Sleeping with my darling, Just on single mattress, On a single pillow, 'Neath a single cover."

B. S. S.

CLVIII

DAWN AWAKENED LAZAR[57]

'Wakening Lazar dawn was stealing: "Get up, Lazar; rise up, Lazar!

Horse of thine has thirst for water."

Forthwith up leaps Lazar quickly, Grasps his horse's bridle lightly, Leading horse, he goes to water, But at water's edge was maiden, With his foot he touched hers gently, Kissed the while her black eyes sparkling, Clasping her about the bosom.

B. S. S.

CLIX

A DEVILISH YOUNG MATRON[58]

When I lived a girl with mother, Good advice was given me often, That I should not drink the red wine, That I should not wear green wreathlets, That I shouldn't kiss a stranger.

But I poor girl deeply thinking over: There's no red cheek without red wine sparkling, There's no pleasure without green wreath glistening, Neither amour without stranger wooer.

B. S. S.

CLX

GIRL IS ETERNAL POSSESSION[59]

In a garden works a maiden, Digging furrow, water decoy, To the garden 'luring water, To give drink to early flowers, Early flowers, whitest basil, Whitest basil, gold carnation; Where she's furrowing, there she's sleeping.

Putting head in sweetest basil, Hands are lying in carnations, Feet are plac'd in shallow hollow, Covered with a fragile kerchief; Beat upon her dew-drops slender, Like a rain-soaked watermelon.

Now there comes a callow youth, Callow youth and not yet married, Grasping two posts, leaps the railing, Springing lightly into garden, Then commences soliloquizing: "Should I pluck a bunch of flowers?

Should I kiss a sleeping maiden?

Bunch of flowers lasts till mid-day, But a maiden lasts forever."

B. S. S.

CLXI

JOVO AND MARIA[60]

Breeze fans up o'er roses 'long the meadow, To the rich white tent of Jovo, youthful, Where there's Jovo with Maria sitting: Jovo writing and Maria sewing; Ink runs short for Jovo where he's writing, And Maria golden thread is losing, Then to Maria, Jovo thus is speaking: "Oh, my Maria, mine own cherish'd lov'd one!

Is my soul to thee a dear possession?

For a pillow is my right hand doughty?"

Mara to him gently whispering slowly: "Believe me, Jovo, darling of my heart-throb, Dearer to me is thy soul much dearer, Than are altogether four of brothers; Softer to me thy own right hand doughty, Than four softest pillows of my choosing."

B. S. S.

CLXII

ROSE TREE[61]

Planted rose-tree midst of Novi-Sad town, O my rose-bud, O my sorrow rose tree, Cannot pick you, neither give you sweetheart: For my sweetie vents her anger on me, Gliding past my courtyard stealthy, Like the slave who pa.s.ses Turkish graveyard.

B. S. S.

CLXIII

DARLING'S WRATH[62]

O my darling, be not wrathful; Should I, myself, show my hot displeasure, All of Bosnia never could appease us, Not all Bosnia nor the Hercegovina.

B. S. S.