In the forceful fine dust
That showers down from the blue fountain
On my palms are hot poppies
Withered branches already dark ripe
Early wounds and crows
From a jump that never falls into any sweetness
The flower of a vanished smile Live barefooted desires
And there is the dear moisture in the depth of a dark eye
And the venom of the grass strand of a still awakening autumn hair
And something from the hands of trust that carry and lead
When they navigate the stars they defy
Beyond blue, real blue
That will not become reality So for whom then is
This blood For whom are these daring flowers
For whom these poor legs that at times hobble
But while hobbled never kneel
The slim property of one who loves
When he swears and begs for a promised light
Even when it has passed From some great river
It is there Upright it flows
In the eternal leap merciless For itself and for me
Not blurred, No but absent From it she does not flee
Then waiting futilely it connects us madly Squeezes
And hurts constantly
Because this morning it is born in the trees and does not bring us together
Double-faced as the past evening

Note: The abstruse poem, we think, is an allusion to when Odyssey awakes in the morning hearing Nausicaa playing with her maids. He emerges naked from the forest before the daughter of the Phaeacian King, Alcinous. The two are smitten holding a love interest never expressed. Unlike her maids, Nausicaa, however, does not flee from Odysseus. She has him bathed, clothed, and fed before taking him to her home, wondering if he might become her husband. The goddess Athena, Nausicaa’s shadow, plays matchmaker.

See: The Greek Spirit in the Poetry of Mak Dizdar

Translated by Keith Doubt and Bojana Vuković with E. Wayles Browne

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