THE BLUE STAR

Maybe it’s far beyond the sky
where nothing actually is around
and no matter how hard you try,
it’s a huge miracle to be found.

Maybe it’s hidden in a grove,
or just forgotten in endless fields,
or sleeps in mountains far above
carefully sheltered by magic shields.

Maybe it’s kept deep in a sea,
discreetly guarded by shoals of fish
that wait for you to come and see--
at least to close eyes and make a wish.

Maybe it’s just in front of you
among these words here that make a rhyme;
so, you should read a strophe or two.
Don’t be impatient--take your time!

All I know is that you must find
the bright, blue star that you should follow.
Don’t be afraid!  Don’t stay behind!
It leads to shiny, new tomorrow...

Dragana Konstantinovic

MY COUNTRY

I was taught how to love and cherish
that country’s every piece—even small,
that I was part of her which could perish
without her sounds, smells, colors and all.

And I loved pigeons and the blue sky,
and shadows on my favorite street,
I loved street salesmen, trams that went by,
and children playing after a treat.

I loved the rainbow over the town,
loud city noise, street jams that roused,
memories hidden under the crown
of the huge tree behind my house…

And sunny days and evening rains,
and chestnut baked that smelled so nice,
traveling inside those dusty trains,
poems and novels that had no price.

And every forest or meadow broad,
and every mountain that I could see,
and lines on each and every road,
and all those other things around me.

Only when I fled far, far away
where the Sun sets while there still shines,
I got it:  No matter what things say,
It’s someone—people—who draw the lines.

My agitation is now long gone,
it’s only memories I still see…
I’m no more a part of that lawn,
that country is now a part of me.

Dragana Konstantinovic
Translated by the author

THERE'S A LAND...

There’s a land which name I really don’t know,
and there is no map that shows that land’s name.
It’s afraid of night, loneliness, and snow,
and all other things life brings just the same.

People that got used to live like caged birds
walk around in circles, more like spooks or ghosts.
They are left by God and all other worlds—
suffering and their minds became all their posts.

It seems to me sometimes that all of them sleep,
damned to dream for years like in fairy tales,
all with covered ears, eyes hidden too deep,
so they cannot see new dawns’ sunny waves.

As they seek a prince riding on a horse
to touch everyone with his magic sword,
as they need some magic, any kind, of course,
to wake them and break that captivity cord.

But, the prince won’t come to vanquish their cries
even if they wait for centuries to glide…
If they would just try to open their eyes,
they’d see that all strength is in them—inside.

Dragana Konstantinovic
Translated by the author

CLOUDS OF WAR
To Sonya

Behind a few dark naughty streaks,
a sparkle shines from her black eye.
She looks at me and her smile leaks—
in just a second she comes by.

She wants hugs, kisses, wants to dance,
and she wants everything “her way”.
Then she discovers something else…
One moment here, next—she’s away!

All of a sudden, clouds of war
covered her with a mighty blur…
Each day I’m scared, terrified more:
God, what might have happened to her?

The long, exhausting time’s gone by,
only a few black clouds still thrive…
Her voice becomes tense, like a cry
as she speaks: “Yes, we are alive…”

I listen but all I can see
is an image of her I knew.
Rudely, it is taken from me—
what appears now is something new…

Where’s that little kitten of mine?
Where’s now that sparkle in her eye?
Her childhood has been killed… A line
that makes me only cry and cry…

Now, I want to ask what I must
all people there and worldwide:
What will ever become of us
as we didn’t let her be a child…

Dragana Konstantinovic
Translated by the author
.

A BRIDGES EULOGY

All bridges are made to connect us all
and you did your job beautifully—the best.
You lived in our land, nice and warm and small,
and took care of us with such flame and zest.

I was so much proud of your structured curves
and I loved each stone, their gleam and their shine,
while they carried over carefully, with nerves,
people to connect them with the other side.

The river beneath you helped you count the time
and shared with you every dark or sunny day.
I remember long walks, sunsets so sublime,
and me touching your hands—fences made of grey.

And while growing up, I gathered so much
from you and the river that beneath you flew;
Finally, I imbibed every thought and touch
in order to save all I’d gotten from you.

Suddenly, the river brought malice and hate
collected who knows where from old, heavy rains.
It became much stronger than your tender state
and you broke in half—couldn’t stand the strains.

I felt tears inside me and my scared white dove
‘cause it killed your youth, strength and all your sense,
‘cause hatred became much stronger than love
and made you a victim of malevolence.

One day, a new bridge will bring a new stride
by coming to light right beside your parts,
and it will continue to connect this side
with the other one, bringing fresh new starts.

And I guess that this is the only right way.
It is good to have bridges all around.
Bridges connect people wherever they stay
and help them see their and the other ground.

Yet, I’m sad I have to watch your remains,
your body destroyed, scattered part by part;
but, I’ve learned your lesson and will not let rains
kill the bridge that still lives deep in my heart.

Dragana Konstantinovic
Translated by the author
.

KOSOVO
To Predrag Obradovic Gagi
and all the others who had to leave

The Kosovar soil’s much darker than else,
its sky is more blue, its grass is more green…
Happiness and sorrows are much more intense,
and forgetting legends is more than a sin.

Through pain, blood and battles, there were boldly set
the roots of our own newer generation,
that brought out the people who in their own sweat
kept eternal marks of their own damnation.

Now, I watch these people wondering—so sad,
people that have souls bigger than the sky;
They have no idea where to find some bread
nor where to find shelter, where to go and try…

All over around them falls Kosovar dust
to cover everything that is saint, to smear,
while in every eye emptiness makes crust
caused by all that’s taken and that they hold dear.

Their strong calloused hands powerlessly wring,
on everyone’s face new wrinkles are born,
their looks turned to someone who’s not known just cling,
while instead of answers they feel sorrow’s thorn.

Can we anyhow help their sadness end?
It’s a fact that our roots live deep in themselves…
Let’s open our eyes, let’s give them our hand,
by helping them all, we help ourselves.

The soil’s almost black, much darker than else,
as it’s sky and grass on Kosovar plot…
Happiness and sorrows are much more intense,
and these people-legends not to be forgot.

Dragana Konstantinovic
Translated by the author

A NEW DAWN

The sleepy Sun, so red and sublime,
whispers as slowly falls into sleep.
I feel, it goes down with every rhyme—
the day may vanish in a sweep…

It sinks so surely into the West.
Colours get darker, whisper’s away…
It brings the smell of stars with such zest
by making dusk no longer to stay.

While counting millions of stars that stun,
I listen how every part of me
raves the last whisper of the red Sun:
A new dawn will come, just wait and see…

Dragana Konstantinovic
Translated by the author
.

GROWING UP

Once when you grow up bigger then your hood,
bigger then your chair, your wooden soldier…
Once, when your childhood far behind you stood
and you stood by Mom--shoulder by shoulder...

Once when you grow up bigger than all toys,
bigger than hopscotch, bigger than your nook,
when words “Katrina is in love with boys”
start slowly fading in your memory book...

Once when you grow up bigger then the sky,
turn over all stars that shine bright and blue!
Somewhere among them happiness does cry
looking and waiting only for you...

Dragana Konstantinovic
Translated by the author

A HUNTING STORY

I wanted to go catch a wolf and so
I took my binoculars and my gun…
It’s true that my mustache still doesn’t grow,
but I have courage and a look that stun.

I stood quietly—ready and prepared,
carefully hidden behind a big tree.
All of a sudden I became so scared
when a huge wolf jumped right in front of me!

My gun—what a shame!—fell down to the ground,
my mean look faded and became shallow…
And the wolf started grinning around
and finally said: “Hi, little fellow”!

He also added: “Could I, please, borrow
your binoculars until three o’clock?
I would so much like to sit somewhere low
and peacefully watch a joyful bird flock…”

What could I have done? Somehow I took off
my binoculars and put them nearby.
He took them and then just waved and shook off
and said: “Gotta go! Thank you and bye-bye!”

I saw that he put my binoculars
around his bold neck and left me to shake…
Then, I heard loud noise that sounded like cars
which was quite enough for me to awake.

And it’s not important what happened in past
or if he intended to trick me and steal.
We will yet to see who’s gonna laugh last
when I go to hunt—and this time for real.

Dragana Konstantinovic
Translated by the author
.

A YELLOW FLOWER

A yellow flower—brave 'though a bit shy
wanted so badly to jump up and fly.

His wish was bigger than all other things
and one day he grew two small yellow wings.

He got colored spots that gave him power—
a butterfly's born out of the flower.

A blue flower now wants to jump and fly
but somehow he can't—he still wonders why.

His wish might not be as big as the sky
or he just cannot be a butterfly.

What the planet would look like—a bird sings—
if all the flowers got butterfly wings?

Dragana Konstantinovic
Translated by the author
.