DJEVOJCICI UMJESTO IGRACKE
By Antun Gustav Matoš
Translated by Lidija Stupar

Ljerko, srce moje, ti si lutka mala,
Pa ne slutiš smisla žalosnih soneta,
Kesteni pred kucom duhu tvom su meta
Još je deset karnevala do tvog bala.

Ti se cudiš, dušo. Smijat si se stala
Ovoj ludoj prici. Tvoja duša sveta
Još ne sniva kako zbore zrela ljeta.
Gledaš me k'o grle. Misliš - to je šala.

Al ce doci vece kad ces, ko Elvira,
Don Juana sita i lažnih kavalira,
Sjetiti se sjetno nježne ove strofe.

Moje ce ti ime šapnut moja muza,
A u modrom oku jecati ce suza
Ko za mrtvim klaunom iza katastrofe.

To The Girl Instead Of A Toy

Ljerko, my darling, you’re a little doll,
And you don’t get the meaning of the sad sonnets,
Chestnuts in front of the house occupy your soul
There are another ten carnivals until your ball.

You’re in wonder, darling. You started to laugh
At this crazy story. Your holy soul
Still cannot dream the language of late summers.
You look at me like baby dove. You think – that’s a joke.

But the evening will come when you will, like Elvira
Sick of Don Juans and fake cavaliers,
Remember fondly this gentle stanza.

My muse will whisper my name to you,
And in your azure eye the tear will form
Like for a dead clown after a catastrophe.