Consider the small fruit tree after the rain:
full of trembling raindrops
the enchanted magnificence of its branches
glitters in the sunlight.
Yet when the sun hides, in a moment
the magic vanishes.
It is again, as it was before,
an ordinary, poor little tree.
by Dobriša Cesarić (1902 – 1980), Croatia
Translated by Jeni Williams and Pavlija Jovic after the Croatian of Dobriša Cesarić.
To fall ill as one should, deliriously
Hot, meet everyone again,
To stroll broad avenues in the seashore garden
Full of the wind and the sun.
Even the dead, today, have agreed to come,
And the exiles, into my house.
Lead the child to me by the hand.
Long I have missed him.
I shall eat blue grapes with those who are dead,
Drink the iced
Wine, and watch the grey waterfall pour
On to the damp flint bed.
– by Анна Ахматова (Anna Akhmatova) (1922)
– from Anno Domini MCMXXI translation by D. M. Thomas