Bojana Radovanović (Serbia/Austria) is a writer and translator. She works on her doctrate in hinstory in univeristy of Vienna. She is a teacher of French , English and latin. Her Poetry annd short stories has publishes in serbia in various antholigy and magazines. Presently she works on her poetry book. She translated two books into serbian language. She lives and works in Vienna.

 

English

 

 

 

Serbian

 

 


Under the Rain

 

 

In the cave

Under the rain

I’m reaching out to my gods

Dipping my palms

And leaving the traces behind

Red from the rain coming down

from this wounded April sky

Which has just lost its virginity

In which I have enveloped myself

So that the sea can recognize me as its own

 

 

 

 

 

In vain (as they’re slurping the last drops of rain)

 

 

 

They have built in the smell of bread and stone,

And Roman roads

Waited at the crossroads of centuries

To catch the dust for their hourglasses

Ploughed the gardens

echoing with ancient voices

And cleansed the earth from rain

Marched over the tomb-stones

To leave their traces

…Traces, which will remain

until the next rainfall

 

 

 

In the heart of the desert

 

 

On the road covered with living grains,

Upon which the air spreads its thoughts

The tictacking of a giant hourglass

From the heart

Up ‘till the limpid eye

Some

Were carrying water

From the spring,

And wore

White summer clothes.

 

 Pod kišom

 

 

U pećini

pod kišom

prizivam svoje bogove

Kvasim dlanove

i ostavljam tragove

crvene od kiše ovog ranjenog prolećnog neba

tek oduzete nevinosti

kojom sam se ogrnula

da me more prepozna kao svoje

 

 

 

 

 

 

Uzalud (dok srču od kiše i poslednju kap)

 

 

Zazidali su miris

hleba i kamena

i rimskih puteva

Čekali na raskršću vekova

da uhvate prašinu

za peščane satove

Rovali vrtove

pune drevnih glasova

i čistili zemlju od kiše

Gazili grobove

da utisnu korake...

...jer dok nema kiše ostaće im trag.

 

 

 

U srcu pustinje

 

 

Na drumu

od živog zrnevlja

po kom vazduh misli

Otkucaji jednog velikog

peščanog sata

Od srca

do bistrog oka

Neki

su nosili vodu

sa izvora

I bele

letnje haljine.