Љубовна поезија

Ti znacam li,ili,jas sum edna od mnogute?
verojatno ti bev ubava,
da,
no ne ti znacev neli?
jas trebase da bidam slednata zrtva,
edna od mnogute musicki
vo tvojata ljubovna mreza!
jas ti kazav i na pocetokot,
jas sum tezok plen!
koj trca pobrzo?
volkot koj ja brka uzinata
ili zajakot koj si go spasuva zivotot?
jas bev pobrza
i si ja spasiv nevinosta...
a ti?
ti ne ostana sam neli?
verojatno te zgrizi nekoja osamena dusa,
ili,
nekoja volcica...mozebi...
nie se razlikuvame,
jas davam ljubov,
a ti,
ti ja baras...
nauci da ljubis,ne da brkas...
ljubovta ne se dobiva onaka,
taa se zasluzuva,
barem taka e so mojata...

 Emily Dickinson

"Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him--
Tell him the page I didn't write;
Tell him I only said the syntax,
And left the verb and the pronoun out.

Tell him just how the fingers hurried
Then how they waded, slow, slow, slow-
And then you wished you had eyes in your pages,
So you could see what moved them so.

"Tell him it wasn't a practised writer,
You guessed, from the way the sentence toiled;
You could hear the bodice tug, behind you,
As if it held but the might of a child;
You almost pitied it, you, it worked so.
Tell him--No, you may quibble there,
For it would split his heart to know it,
And then you and I were silenter.

"Tell him night finished before we finished
And the old clock kept neighing 'day!'
And you got sleepy and begged to be ended--
What could it hinder so, to say?
Tell him just how she sealed you, cautious
But if he ask where you are hid
Until to-morrow,--happy letter!
Gesture, coquette, and shake your head!"

Desanka Maksimović-Opomena

Cuj, recu cu ti svoju tajnu:
ne ostavljaj me nikad samu
kad neko svira.

Mogu mi se uciniti
duboke i meke
oci neke
sasvim obicne.

Moze mi se uciniti
da tonem u zvuke,
pa cu ruke
svakom pruziti.

Moze mi se uciniti
lepo i lako
voleti kratko
za jedan dan.

Ili mogu kom reci u tome
casu cudesno sjajnu
predragu mi tajnu
koliko te volim.

O, ne ostavljaj me nikad samu
kad neko svira.
Ucinice mi se negde u sumi
ponovo sve moje suze teku
kroz samonikle neke cesme.

Ucinice mi se crn leptir jedan
po teskoj vodi krilom sara
sto nekad neko reci mi ne sme.

Ucinice mi se negde kroz tamu
neko peva i gorkim cvetom
u neprebolnu ranu srca dira.
O, ne ostavljaj me nikad samu,
nikad samu,
kad neko svira.