SELMA KOPIĆ

 

SELMA KOPIĆ

 

Golden Flok

 

I swim on my back and sing an old song:

"Is it nice, is it nice, ... my seagull."

Above me, a flock of tame pigeons

flies over the lake in regular formations.

I notice that not everyone is white.

Pigeons of different colours fly together.

The sun is in the west and is very hot,

its rays illuminate the flock

and the colours of the birds change

as the angle changes.

At one point, they become all golden.

A beautiful sight.

Their golden wings flicker

and resemble fireflies on a summer night.

The sky is crystal clear,

golden dots flicker above us

and thought is born,

there is enough sky and sun for everyone,

and, under them, we are all equal and,

as such, golden.

 

 

ZLATNO JATO

 

Plivam na leđima i pjevušim staru pjesmu:

''Lipo li je, lipo li je,...moj galebe''.

Iznad mene, jato pitomih golubova

nadlijeće jezero u pravilnim formacijama.

Uočavam da nisu svi bijeli.

Lete zajedno golubovi različitih boja.

Sunce je na zapadu i jako grije,

njegove zrake obasjavaju jato

i boje ptica se mijenjaju kako se mijenja ugao.

U jednom momentu postaju sve zlatne.

Prekrasan prizor.

Njihova zlatna krila trepere

i podsjećaju na svice u ljetnoj noći.

Nebo je kristalno čisto,

zlatne tačkice trepere iznad nas

i misao se rađa,

ima neba i sunca dovoljno za sve

i pod njima svi smo jednaki i,

kao takvi, zlatni.

 

 

 

Peace

 

Let peace flow as fast as a mountain river,

let it warm like the warm rays of the sun!

Let peace resound like a song,

let it grow like ivy along the walls!

Let peace spread like air,

let it spill like rain!

Let peace fly high like an eagle,

let it go fast like a train!

Let it spread like good news,

let it fall out of all hands!

We all need peace like a song, like water,

like the sun, like air ...

We need it fast, very fast,

and it should last, and it should last!

Peace in the world, peace with God,

peace in the soul, peace for all!

 

 

MIR

 

Neka mir teče brzo kao planinska rijeka,

neka se grije poput toplih sunčevih zraka!

Neka mir odjekuje poput pjesme,

neka raste poput bršljana uz zidove!

Neka se mir širi poput zraka,

neka se razlije kao kiša!

Neka mir leti visoko poput orla,

neka ide brzo kao voz!

Neka se širi kao dobra vijest,

neka iz svih ruku ispada!

Svima nam je potreban mir kao pjesma, kao voda,

kao sunce, kao zrak ...

Treba nam brzo, vrlo brzo,

i trebao bi trajati, i trebao bi trajati!

Mir u svijetu, mir s Bogom,

mir u duši, mir za sve!

 

 

 

You Are Not The One I Still Love

 

You're not the one I still love.

But I love,

and I will die loving,

the image of you I loved.

It’s a picture of a wide-eyed man,

a man of the world.

It’s a picture of a man

who isn’t ashamed to love

or be romantic.

A man who pays gallantly,

who is creative,

versatile and hardworking.

It isn’t an old nagger

who is bothered by every smell,

who eats healthily.

I love a man who cooks well

and eats everything

our ancestors have always eaten.

The image of the man I love

is the image of a man

who doesn’t talk about

his conquering successes as a seducer,

who just smiles at provocative questions

and answers nothing.

He is a man who isn’t afraid

of other people's opinions,

makes his own decisions

and is ready to bear the consequences.

It’s a man who doesn’t run away

and doesn’t hide.

And he never retreats like a coward.

You're not the man I love.

I love the picture of you I loved.

It is a unique creation of inestimable value.

It is an image

for which it is impossible to reproduce.

 

 

NISI TI TAJ KOJEG JOŠ VOLIM

 

Nisi ti taj kojeg još volim.

Ali volim

i umrijet ću voleći

sliku tebe kojeg sam voljela.

To je slika muškarca širokih pogleda,

svjetskog čovjeka.

To je slika muškarca

koji se ne stidi voljeti

niti biti romantičan.

Muškarac koji plaća galantno,

koji je kreativan,

svestran i vrijedan.

Nije to staro džangizalo

kojem smeta svaki miris,

koji se zdravo hrani.

Volim muškarca

koji dobro kuha

i jede sve što su jeli oduvijek i naši preci.

Slika čovjeka kojeg volim,

slika je muškarca

koji ne priča

o svojim osvajačkim uspjesima zavodnika,

koji se na provokativna pitanja samo nasmiješi

i ništa ne odgovori.

To je muškarac

koji se ne plaši tuđeg mišljenja,

svoje odluke donosi sam

i spreman je podnijeti i posljedice.

To je muškarac koji ne bježi i ne krije se.

I nikad se ne povlači kao kukavica.

Nisi ti taj čovjek kojeg volim.

Ja volim sliku o tebi kojeg sam voljela.

To je unikatna tvorevina neprocjenjive vrijednosti.

To je slika za koju je nemoguće

uraditi reprodukciju.

 

 

 

You Owe Me A Morning In Nice

 

We have our mornings to remember in hotels on the beach,

in vineyards, in the center or in the suburbs.

We have our sunsets over the olive groves,

over the castles, over the open sea.

We drove from one to the other like two fugitives.

We stole romantic moments in the ancient alleys,

in the gardens of the restaurants, under the blossoming trees.

I loved opening  the windows wide in the morning,

while you are tired still sleeping on crumpled beds.

But, the morning in Nice is missing in that story.

As we, one late night, approached a brightly lit city,

the phone began to ring.

The worried voices of my friends asked if we were okay,

they heard about the bombing in Nice on the news.

I'm lying to them that we passed Nice a long time ago,

that we have already arrived in Italy.

And your wife called,

she didn't know about the attack,

but she knew how to attack and didn't spare a word.

We spent the night in a romantic village on the coast.

The next day, as we drove on,

it was written on all the traffic lights:

Liberté, égalité, fraternité!

I don't  know French, but I understand the message well.

I didn't  feel fear with you and I didn't care,

whatever happens, let it happen with you,

just so this journey doesn’t  end.

And with every mile, we were getting further and further

away from Nice,

and getting closer to parting.

Saying goodbye to you, a few days later,

I also said goodbye to my Liberté, égalité, fraternité!

For me, it is possible, only with you.

 

 

Duguješ mi jutro u Nici

 

Mi imamo svoja jutra za pamćenje, u hotelima na plaži,

u vinogradima, u centru ili predgrađu.

Imamo svoje zalaske sunca nad maslinicima,

nad zamkovima, nad pučinom.

Vozili smo se od jednog do drugog kao dva bjegunca,

krali smo romantične momente u drevnim uličicama,

u baštama restorana, ispod rascvjetalih stabala.

Voljela sam ujutro otvoriti širom prozore

dok ti umoran još spavaš na izgužvanim krevetima.

Ali jutro u Nici nedostaje u toj priči.

Dok smo se približavali, jedne kasne noći,

blještavo osvijetljenom gradu,

telefon je počeo da zvoni.

Zabrinuti glasovi mojih prijatelja pitali su jesmo li dobro.

Za bombaški napad u Nici čuli su na vijestima.

Lažem im da smo davno prošli Nicu,

da smo već stigli u Italiju.

I tvoja žena je zvala,

nije znala za napad,

ali je znala napasti i nije štedila riječi.

Prenoćili smo u romantičnom seocetu na obali.

Sutradan, dok smo se vozili dalje,

na svim semaforima je pisalo

Liberté, égalité, fraternité!

Ne znam francuski, ali poruku dobro razumijem.

Uz tebe nisam osjećala strah i bilo mi je svejedno,

što god da se desi, neka se desi s tobom,

samo da ovo putovanje ne završi.

A svakim kilometrom bili smo sve dalje od Nice,

i sve bliži rastanku.

Rekavši zbogom tebi, par dana kasnije,

oprostila same se i od svojih Liberté, égalité, fraternité!

Za mene, to je moguće, samo uz tebe.

 

 

 

Miracle Of Love

 

All desire

accumulated over the years,

was released that night.

There was no time to sleep.

In a hotel by the sea,

with a slight inclination,

a new dawn greets us,

with a clear light,

another sunrise joins us.

Wonders of nature, sky and sea,

are endless and large,

like the miracle of love

we felt that morning.

And fear arose:

Are we building a sand tower?

What if we wake up from this dream?

Will it be in reality as well?

Then the hope grows

that this dream will never pass.

And when there is no more heaven, sea,

common dawns,

you and me,

we will have one dream come true,

we will have, only ours,

memories.

 

 

ČUDO LJUBAVI

 

Sva žudnja

akumulirana godinama,

oslobođena je te noći.

Nije bilo vremena za san.

U hotelu na obali mora

blagim naklonom

pozdravi nas nova zora,

svjetlošću bistrom

pridruži nam se još jedan izlazak sunca.

Čuda prirode, nebo i more,

nepregledna su i velika

kao čudo ljubavi

koju osjetismo tog jutra.

I bojazan se javi:

Kulu od pijeska da li gradimo?

Šta kad se iz ovog sna probudimo?

Hoće li ga biti i na javi?

Zatim naraste i nada

da ovaj san neće proći nikada.

I kad ne bude više neba, mora,

zajedničkih zora,

tebe i mene,

imat ćemo jedan ostvareni san,

imat ćemo, samo naše,

uspomene. 

SELMA KOPIĆ 

SELMA KOPIĆ is a professor of Bosnian language and literature, born in 1962 in Tuzla, Bosnia and Herzegovina. She is the author of two textbooks and one workbook for primary school. She worked and works as a coach, reviewer, proofreader ... She lives and works in Tuzla. Her stories and poems have been awarded and entered anthologies in Bosnia and Herzegovina and around the world.