When you're happy - Kad si sretan
Sutra mi je rođendan. Bolje rečeno, kad završim s pisanjem ovog posta, već će mi biti rođendan. Venus mi je već dala poklon. Kao i uvijek, poklonila mi je baš ono što sam si želio najviše. Ona ima taj dar, da uvijek sluša potiho kad nešto govoriš, i kao da zapisuje kad su ti se oči zažarile za nečim ili kada si rekao da ti se sviđa - to stavlja na svoj popis poklona, u toj plavoj maloj glavi, i onda to dobiješ kao poklon onda kad se najmanje nadaš.
Dobio sam zbirku pjesama Vidrića i Šimića. Baš sam ih prije tjedan dva gledao u knjižari, dok je ona lutala među rječnicima. Ali je zapamtila što sam gledao, iako sam ja mislio da uopće nije obratila pozornost na mene.
I dobio sam najbolje slušalice na svijetu! Htio sam velike slušalice jer me one malene smetaju, bole me uši od njih.
I tako, čitajući Šimića kojeg mi je ona poklonila, naletio sam na pjesmu koja govori o nama - pa bi ju htio pokloniti Njoj. Pjesma je životna, ne govori o cvijeću i sreći i idili. Govori o ljubavi. Život je život - sivilo koje je teško, i prepuno boli i teških trenutaka. Naravno i sretnih. Ali ono što ljubav čini ljubavlju - kad se skupe sve te boli koje te tjeraju na očaj i na osjećaj beznađa i samoće; možeš ih podijeliti sa nekim. Ja ih dijelim s tobom. Nadam se da sam i ja za tebe tu da ih ti dijeliš sa mnom.
Jedanput
Ženo
što iz bijede našeg svagdanjeg života
očajale i krotke oči dižeš k meni
Sav ovaj život...oh, sav ovaj život
ženo
jedanput ja odsvirat ću na harfi
i kad poslije harfe
progovore ćutke naše duše
znaš li što će govoriti?
Kako bjesmo srećni. Kako bjesmo srećni
Napisao Antun Branko Šimić.
Ton petit cretain, mišek. Amin mela lle.
***
Tomorrow is my birthday. Better said, when I finish writing this post, it'll be my birthday. Venus already gave me her present. As always, she gave me exactly what I wanted the most. She has this gift, to always silently listen what you say, and as if she writes down when your eyes glaze after something or when you say that you like something - she puts it on her list of presents, in that blond little head and then you get something from that list as a present when you've completely forgotten about it.
I got two collections of poems from her, one written by Vidrić and the other by Šimić. Just two weeks ago I was checking them up in a bookstore, while she wandered among the dictionaries. But she remembered what I was checking out, even though I thought she didn't even notice me.
And I got the best headphones in the world! I wanted big earphones because those tiny hones bother me, my ears hurt from them.
And so, while I was reading Šimić's collection (the one she gave me), I bump into a poem which talks about us - so I'd like to give it to Her. The poem is very down to earth, it doesn't concern flowers and happiness and the idyll. It concerns love. Life is life - grayness that is hard, and full of pain and hardships. Of course, happy moments too. But the thing which makes love what it is - when you gather all the pains which make you become desperate and feel hopeless and alone; you can share it with someone. I share them with you. I hope I'm there for you so you can share them with me.
Some day
Woman
from among such commonplace miseries
your desperately gentle eyes see me
All this life...oh, all this life
woman
some day I'll play us upon the harp
and after the harp
when our souls speak up
do you know what'll they say?
How happy we were. How happy we were
Written by Antun Branko Šimić. The translation was courtesy of Pthalo and Kate (and in some regard, me). Thanks!
Ton petit cretain, mišek. Amin mela lle.
Dobio sam zbirku pjesama Vidrića i Šimića. Baš sam ih prije tjedan dva gledao u knjižari, dok je ona lutala među rječnicima. Ali je zapamtila što sam gledao, iako sam ja mislio da uopće nije obratila pozornost na mene.
I dobio sam najbolje slušalice na svijetu! Htio sam velike slušalice jer me one malene smetaju, bole me uši od njih.
I tako, čitajući Šimića kojeg mi je ona poklonila, naletio sam na pjesmu koja govori o nama - pa bi ju htio pokloniti Njoj. Pjesma je životna, ne govori o cvijeću i sreći i idili. Govori o ljubavi. Život je život - sivilo koje je teško, i prepuno boli i teških trenutaka. Naravno i sretnih. Ali ono što ljubav čini ljubavlju - kad se skupe sve te boli koje te tjeraju na očaj i na osjećaj beznađa i samoće; možeš ih podijeliti sa nekim. Ja ih dijelim s tobom. Nadam se da sam i ja za tebe tu da ih ti dijeliš sa mnom.
Jedanput
Ženo
što iz bijede našeg svagdanjeg života
očajale i krotke oči dižeš k meni
Sav ovaj život...oh, sav ovaj život
ženo
jedanput ja odsvirat ću na harfi
i kad poslije harfe
progovore ćutke naše duše
znaš li što će govoriti?
Kako bjesmo srećni. Kako bjesmo srećni
Napisao Antun Branko Šimić.
Ton petit cretain, mišek. Amin mela lle.
***
Tomorrow is my birthday. Better said, when I finish writing this post, it'll be my birthday. Venus already gave me her present. As always, she gave me exactly what I wanted the most. She has this gift, to always silently listen what you say, and as if she writes down when your eyes glaze after something or when you say that you like something - she puts it on her list of presents, in that blond little head and then you get something from that list as a present when you've completely forgotten about it.
I got two collections of poems from her, one written by Vidrić and the other by Šimić. Just two weeks ago I was checking them up in a bookstore, while she wandered among the dictionaries. But she remembered what I was checking out, even though I thought she didn't even notice me.
And I got the best headphones in the world! I wanted big earphones because those tiny hones bother me, my ears hurt from them.
And so, while I was reading Šimić's collection (the one she gave me), I bump into a poem which talks about us - so I'd like to give it to Her. The poem is very down to earth, it doesn't concern flowers and happiness and the idyll. It concerns love. Life is life - grayness that is hard, and full of pain and hardships. Of course, happy moments too. But the thing which makes love what it is - when you gather all the pains which make you become desperate and feel hopeless and alone; you can share it with someone. I share them with you. I hope I'm there for you so you can share them with me.
Some day
Woman
from among such commonplace miseries
your desperately gentle eyes see me
All this life...oh, all this life
woman
some day I'll play us upon the harp
and after the harp
when our souls speak up
do you know what'll they say?
How happy we were. How happy we were
Written by Antun Branko Šimić. The translation was courtesy of Pthalo and Kate (and in some regard, me). Thanks!
Ton petit cretain, mišek. Amin mela lle.