Game Of Hopelessness ~ Igra Beznađa Poem by Jankovic Zoran

She thought she could be
the rainbow of my rain;
that my step can be a trace,
just because she so wants it.
She hid it from me,
I pretended not to know that.

After every rain don't comes rainbow
and every step is not the same trace.
The rainbow of the sand
and a trace of imagination
are toys that don't have a real shine to me.
It did not matter to her,
because she always got what she wanted.

We played a game of hopelessness
in which everyone is losing.
Her hiding place that is called passion,
in time, it turned into spite.
Passion suddenly became silent;
and silence drowned in senseless hatred.

The guilty man at the end of the hiding was me.
I was just looking for a rainbow for my rain
and a trail for my lost steps.
I played my puzzle with no end.
Frankly, but in the wrong way,
I was looking for a way out
of the game of hopelessness.


13.8.2015.

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Igra beznađa

Mislila je da mojoj kiši može biti duga,
da mom koraku može biti trag,
samo zato što ona tako hoće.
I krila je to od mene, a ja,
ja sam se pravio da to ne znam.

Posle svake kiše ne dolazi duga
i svakom koraku nije isti trag.
Duga od pijeska i trag od mašte
su igračke koje meni nemaju pravi sjaj.
Sve joj to nije bilo važno jer je
uvijek dobijala ono što poželi.

Igrali smo igru beznađa u kojoj svi gube.
Njena skrivalica koja se zove strast
vremenom se pretvorila u pakost.
Pakost je odjednom postala ćutnja;
a ćutnja je utonula u besmislenu mržnju.

Krivac na kraju skrivalice sam bio ja.
Tražio sam samo dugu za moju kišu
i trag za moje izgubljene korake.
Igrao sam moju slagalicu bez kraja.
Iskreno, ali na pogrešan način,
tražio sam izlaz iz igre beznađa.