СТИХОВИ КОИ ВЕ ДОПРЕЛЕ

.

BALADA  

Od svih si devojaka bila tisa,

zbunjena, sama, neprimetna, bleda.

Ej, zasto nisi bar porasla visa,

bar visa za pola pedlja?

Jedne je noci udarala kisa,

tako krvnicki ko cuvari reda...

Ej, zasto nisi bar porasla visa,

bar visa za pola pedlja,

jer kad si se o drvo kraj vrata

obesila jednom u svitanja seda,

izmegju bosih nogu i blata

bilo je razmaka samo – pola pedlja.

Miroslav Antic

STARINSKA MOLITVA ZA EMILIJU

1. Neka na|e srecu Emilija. Crven kon~i}. Nek se smeje.

Neka mirno spava.

2. Neka živi Emilija sa onim koga ljubi.

Ne moram da budem ja. Neka ona živi.

3. Nek postane majka, nek joj {ikne mleko.

Nek joj dete `ivi.

4. Nek se seti Emilija prozora na niskoj ku}i

i jesenje uspavanke.

5. Nek joj se ispuni `elja: stara klupa,

niska ku}a izvan grada.

6. I kad zbraja dane, nek se seti i mene

i mojih molitava.

7. Nek sa decom ve~erava

pod zvezdama za dugim stolom.

8. A kad joj mreti do|e, u poslednjoj suzi

nek bude i mene.

9. Te ve~eri nad njenim krovom

nek pro|u rumene zvezde.

10. Od njenih zvona nek propla~u

i neznani na svome putu.

11. Nek umre samo posle mene.

Ma gde se obreo i ma gde bio.

12. A m i n ...

Slobodan Markovi}

              IF

If you can keep your head,when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

(Radyard Kipling)