ZRIKAVAC by Vladimir Nazor. Zagreb 1918 (Translated by Željko and Marko Bajzer)

Last night in my garden full of moonlight,
in the chorus of the nightly crickets
a sound pulled at my thoughts -- one of the crickets
was erring in rhythm, playing louder than the rest.
His chirping was stuttered, now weaker, now stronger.
Like the sound of a damaged damaged bell,
breaking abruptly, trembling with pain;
Like the whimper of a weeping soul.
Pain of the summer past, terror spreading 'round
as the winter appraoches.
He stumbles and pauses,
only to continue more bitterly –
and I did not know
Whether this cricket was chirping in the garden or in my heart.
The whole night I listened to his song.
and then I understood more clearly why
I am becoming weary,
why a chill freezes me,
With an unwelcome companion: unease.

When I saw the first sun ray on a new day,
I awoke abruptly from my anxious thoughts.
Gray, humid, with a dead cricket in her palm,
Autumn was standing at my door.

Zrikavac

Music of Marko Bajzer - to learn more about me, visit www.markobajzer.com