I’d prefer
to watch with delight
the mastery of a crow as it cracks a walnut
(the hidden substance reachable only
by shattering a world)
and then drops it from above
a busy city intersection
and then waits for the boring cars to pass
so that she can feast on it

I’d prefer to go to the Botanical Garden
of the National Museum
as soon as possible
to catch with my camera
ten square feet of glorious blooming crocuses
awaiting me for just
a few brief mornings
elusive to those who run after power, glory or daily bread

I’d prefer
to take my fresh croissant and my fragrant coffee,
sit in front of my urban refuge, and
plan to send to the world
my photos of the glorious crocuses –
if the world is still there the next morning

I’d prefer
to shove my head under the earth, waiting for me anyway,
and join the moles in looking for crocus bulbs
to ask them to please last longer this dismal year

But
there is an ancient drama unfolding outside
Among the peoples in conflict:
who will take the power, who will take the honour
who will take the blood, who will take the soil
who will be writing history
and who will be beaten until he confesses everything he doesn’t know
who will be killed and ditched by a road in a distant land

I’d prefer …

But I must
go out to the street, to join the angry masses
side by side with those whom I don’t know and share nothing
except for this land, beautiful and miserable

So, here I am, and I am supposed to sing it all with delight

But how to sing and celebrate Those Above
who spit at Those Below
until the wheel of fortune whirls around
all over again
in an hour or two?

Sarajevo, February 11, 2014

Translated by Amira Sadiković, William A. Hunt, and the author

The preceding text is copyright of the author and/or translator and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.