It's morning and the sun carries naked treetops like antlers - Almin Kaplan

It's morning and the sun carries naked treetops like antlers

*
Trucks emerge from the night
And vanish into the day

My Bosnia, Devastated - Safet Isović

My Bosnia, devastated

My country, unplowed

Four summers fallow

 

Poplar Trees - Jovan Dučić

Why tonight the poplars rustle that way?

So passionately, so strange? Why they rustle so?

The yellow moon slowly sets behind the hills,

Distant and black, like a foreboding; and dreams

In Istanbul at the Bosphorus - Safet Isović

in istanbul at the bosphorus,

the pasha lies sick.

his soul is on the decline,

and yearns for the black earth.

 

Encounter - Jovan Dučić

An angel met a soul one time,

In the middle of the air,

patronus - Anita Pajević

there, on the ground floor of our sitting room

in a pot squats a tree

made of life

mum hasn’t changed its soil

in 17 years

Your voice - Stevan Tontic

Always after three, the most seven days

Your voice for a minute

On Belgrade’s nightly telephone.

Journal - Asmir Kujović

I try to be busy
not to think of It.

Where are you? - Aleksa Šantic

When pearls of dew at night are strewn
On meadow flowers in early bloom,
My bosom starts a longing tune:
“Where are you, where are you?”