Skip to main content

Serbian poetry

Search This Blog

Branko Miljković - If we say

on November 06, 2023

Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps

If we say

we've said what we didn't want to say

If we stay silent we haven't said anything

but we've passed over a lot.

Every word means

what its silence means.

Branko Miljkovic

Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular Posts

Milan Rakic - Simonida

(Fresco in Gračanica) They gouged your eyes out, you beautiful painting! One night on a stone plate Knowing that nobody is around to see him, An Arbanas stabbed you in the eyes with a knife. But to touch he couldn't Your nobly face, or your mouth, Or your golden crown, or the royal veil, Under which lay your thick hair. And now in this church, on a stone pillar In a bejeweled mosaic-dress While you're silently living your harsh fate I look at you - sad, solemn, and white; And like extinguished stars, which to a man still send their light, and the man sees the shine, shape, and the color Of far away stars which already don't exist. That's how now, from the dark wall On the sooty and ancient plate On me shine, sad Simonida - Your long gouged out eyes! Behind the poem "Simonida" by Milan Rakić is a poem that pays homage to Simonida Nemanjić, Byzanthian princess from the Paleologus dynasty and the wife of King Milutin Nemanjić, a medieval Serbian monarch who ru...

Laza Kostic - Santa Maria della Salute

Forgive me, holy mother, forgive me, For I have forsaken the pines of our mountains, upon which, in spite of every evil, arose a castle in the honor of the blessed you; hate, celestial goddess, on the wellhead of mercy, where your earthly being has sinned: Full of repentance I kiss your pure skirts, Santa Maria della Salute. Isn't it prettier to carry your beauty, to become the pillar of your vaults instead of, keeping the beauty of the world warm, burning your heart and shoes into ashes; sinking inside a ship, rotting inside a table, of the Satan's pine and the devil's oak? Isn't it prettier to spend an eternity inside you, Santa Maria della Salute? Forgive me, mother, I went through great hardships, I repented great sins, whatever my young heart ever dreamed of, the breeze of reality tore it all to pieces, what I yearned for, what I hoped for, it's all long turned to ashes and dust, my spiteful enemies live a life of ease, Santa Maria della Salute. The rotten and ...

Branko Miljkovic - Tin

On the other side of the grave beats a living star And the burnt wind dreams at the beginning of the day The night in my voice no longer calls for the lost spaces which belong to the suns. My blood asleep under a stone doesn't rave, because of the hell dug out from the ground alive Here stones sing and the bird turns to a gray stone Here everybody is dead for the first time behind the last sun Oh why are we so alone and weak and brittle While the Earth turns around its death somewhere under the ground ripens the silence of evil. Finally I am dead enough, nothing hurts Trees lean over oblivion, there's nothing to love Let flowers bloom from the cursed soil Behind the poem Tin is one of the seven poems from a cycle in Branko Miljkovic's first poetry book In vain I wake her called Seven dead poets. Each of these seven poems Branko dedicated to Serbian poets whose work he felt was extraordinary and influential. Those poets also have one more thing in comm...

Powered by Blogger