MAYA MILOJKOVIĆ

 

 

The Clock

 

On the wall of heaven hangs a clock,

invisible, silent, without hands,

and yet — it is everywhere.

It does not measure minutes,

but the tremors of the soul.

Its mechanism is moved by truth,

and its hands stop

when a man lies.

It knows the difference between words and feelings,

it hears the silence of the heart

when it trembles under the weight of guilt.

It is no ordinary clock —

it is God’s measure of goodness,

a secret guardian of sincerity.

Every thought, every intention,

every shadow in one’s gaze

leaves a trace upon its glass.

When you love purely, it shines,

when you envy, a gear breaks within it.

It does not tick “tick-tock,”

but whispers:

“were you truthful,”

“have you touched souls,”

“were you truly you.”

Its time does not pass,

it judges.

And while the world turns in false seconds,

that clock — unseen, eternal —

quietly measures souls,

not days.

 

SAT

 

Na zidu neba visi sat,

nevidljiv, tih, bez kazaljki,

a ipak, svuda je.

On ne meri minute,

nego treptaje duše.

Njegov mehanizam pokreće istina,

a kazaljke mu staju

kad čovek slaže.

On zna razliku između reči i osećaja,

čuje tišinu srca

kad zadrhti pod teretom krivice.

To nije običan sat —

to je Božiji merač dobrote,

tajni čuvar iskrenosti.

Svaka misao, svaka namera,

svaka senka u pogledu

ostavlja trag na njegovom staklu.

Kad voliš čisto, on zasvetli,

kad zavidiš, u njemu pukne zupčanik.

On ne kuca „tik-tak“,

nego „jesi li istinit“,

„jesi li duše dotakao“,

„jesi li bio ti“.

Njegovo vreme ne prolazi,

ono sudi.

I dok se svet okreće u lažnim sekundama,

taj sat — nevidljiv, večan,

mirno meri duše,

ne dane.

 

MAYA MILOJKOVIĆ