Saša Važić,
SR and Tomislav Maretić, CR
Mine Field
pre-autumn time
leaves already covering
the mine field /sv
our thoughts whirl
over the desolate ground /tm
a jackdaw lands
on the new grass
flapping its wings /sv
incredible silence
approaching
the suspected spot /tm
wind bringing rain . . .
the holes in my memory /sv
the thunderstorm
every moment lightning
the waste land /tm
Tomislav
Maretić, CR and Saša Važić, SR
Swinging the
Swing
a lone snipe
in the forest pokes about
the leaf litter /tm
an ant covered in garbage
trying to find the way out /sv
summer grasses—
mole cricket's song comes
from the earth /tm
a worm on my palm
fingers reach for either
its head or tail /sv
Oh, I didn't want that—
the earth warm cut by my hoe! /tm
rusting in the nook
of the sky—the last quarter
оf the moon /sv
Saša Važić,
SR and Tomislav Maretić, CR
Snow
snow . . . snow . . . snow . .
.
and white white white all about
my childhood days /sv
under the street lamp
the morning virgin snow /tm
too late for this final trip
a fledgling left behind
the flock of sparrows /sv
frozen fields...
a bevy of goldfinches brings
colors to the thistle /tm
the noise of excited children
outside my frozen window /vs
a bang on the pane!—
someone dragging a sledge
comes home late /tm
