Poem: Hercegovina
em = By Andelko Vuletic
Translated by Amila Buturovic
Now,
over this very stone,
where the pollen smells,
where the karst is white and the juniper tree is black
where the wolf howls and the snake rattles and the bees buzz
over the nagging acacia blossom
and the rock melts under the sun
and Neretva roars and Trebisnjica hums
and the oak tree pleads thirst and the sky burns
and the bones of the Mongol and Tatar noblemen lie still
and the Bogomil and Pataren necropolises chant
and the barley rustles and the rye swings and tobacco leaves
burn in smoke and the hemlock is sown
and the petals of wild poppies sway and the ash tree glistens
and the grapevine arches —
How come here,
at this point in time,
after so many centuries
we must,
at this very old hearth
all over again erect our homes,
and let the smoke from the chimneys drift into the open skies?