Sumatra - Miloš Crnjanski‎

Now we are carefree, light and tender.
We just think: how quiet are the snowy
peaks of the Urals.

If a pale figure makes us sad,
the one we lost to an evening,
we also know that somewhere, instead of it a rivulet
flows and is all red.

Each love, each morning in a foreign land
envelops our soul closer by its hand
in an endless tranquility of blue seas,
in which red corals glitter
like the cherries of my homeland.

We wake at night and sweetly smile
at the Moon with its bent bow
and we caress those distant hills
and the icy mountains with our tender hand.

Belgrade, 1920

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Miloš Crnjanski‎ (1893 - 1977) Serbia
Translated by Nina Zivancevic
Source: Serbo-Croatian Poetry Translation