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Avelina Damijanjević-Kovačić
Poetry
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Moj (My) Podol*

Nigdre tako lepo arija ne vonja
kako ovdeka do zemji i senca
na momu skoju do kamika i skuj
kede su banestri pelna brenca.

kada gromaci kozji vrisk zacevjeni
a kus i pelin za tebe procvete
pogjedaj, povonjaj, serce je pelno
gust do zemji va vlasi se plete.

drenjuli se same va ruki hitaju
tikaj murvu i zemi kantariol
do bersnjana za se udelaj krunu
usnasi va serce spomen na Podol.

Nowhere does the air smell as
sweet of the earth and sun as here,
on my rocky island, where broom plants flourish.

When a lively goat calls out on a
dry stone wall and the sage and
absynthe blossom for you, observe and
inhale, your heart is fulfilled. The taste of
the earth will plait your hair.

Cornel cherries fall into your hands.
Pick the mulberry, gather the thyme,
and from the ivy weave a wreath.
Seal in your heart a secret memory of Podol.

*On the island of Cres - Cherso


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