Vivid – a poem

When I’ve read this word I couldn’t think about anything else, but about one poem. The words in this poem remind me on my mother that left us long-time-ago. When ever I think of her, I feel her so vividly that I can cry as if it she left this world now and not decades ago when I was only thirteen. I am really sad that I was not able to live with her longer, I miss untold stories, laughter that didn’t happen, I miss her a lot 😦

So, as a memory to my mother here is an english translation of a poem written by A.G. MatoÅ¡ (1873 – 1914), a Croatian writer.

Consolation In Hair

I watched you last night. Asleep. Sad. You dead.
In the fatal hall, in the flower idyl,
On the high death bed, in the candle lit agony,
Resolved to give you my life as sacrifice.
 
I did not cry. I did not. Astonished I stood
In the fatal hall, full of grand death,
In doubt that dark, clear, eyes
Are the ones from where better life shined for me.
 
Everything, but everything is dead: eyes, breath and hands,
Everything I wanted to bring to life with desperation
In a blind horror and in the passion of torment,
 
In the fatal hall, in thoughts of grey.
Only your hair was still alive
So it told me: Be still! In death one dreams.

Utjeha kose

Gledao sam te sinoc. U snu. Tuzan. Mrtvu.
U dvorani kobnoj, u idili cvijeca,
Na visokom odru, agoniji svijeca,
Gotov da ti predam zivot kao zrtvu.

Nisam plako. Nisam. Zapanjen sam stao
U dvorani kobnoj, punoj smrti krasne,
Sumnjajuci da su tamne oci jasne,
Odakle mi nekad bolji zivot sjao.

Sve bas, sve je mrtvo: oci, dah i ruke,
Sve, sto ocajanjem htjedoh da ozivim
U slijepoj stravi i u strasti muke.

U dvorani kobnoj, mislima u sivim.
Samo kosa tvoja jos je bila ziva,
Pa mi rece: Miruj! U smrti se sniva.

 

Der Trost der Haare

Ich schaute dich abends. Träumend. Traurig. Tote.
Im fatalen Saale, in der Blumen Scherzen,
Hoch am Sterbelager, Agonie der Kerzen,
Dir bereit zu geben das Leben als Opfer. 

Ich weinte nicht. Gar nicht. Verblüfft ich inne;
Im fatalen Saale, voll des Todes Schönheit,
Stets im Zweifeln ob der dunklen Augen Klarheit,
Aus der mir ein bessres Laben schien im Sinne.

Alles, tot ist alles. Augen; Atem, Hände
Alles, was verzweifelnd will ich lassen;
Voll der blinden Ehrfurcht, der Leidenschaftsbrände,

Im fatalen Saale, Gedanken in blassen.
Allein deine Haare waren noch am Leben,
Und sie sagten: — Ruche! im Tod träumt man eben.

If you want to hear how it sounds in Croatian:

Source of Featured Image: Soulmate.

Source of this Translation: Lyrics Translate:

Source of Croatian and German Language: Ezgeta.com.

 

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