It was that night
when Paris burned in my eyes,
when Moscow shone in your eyes,
and football was played in Johannesburg.
It was that night
when Rome was in flames in my eyes,
and Moskow was glowing in your eyes,
but in Johannesburg was still playing football.
It was those Belgrade night
when the Kalemegdan terrace
saw Paris burning
Rome that was in the flames of my eyes
and Moscow still had the glow of your eyes
but in Johannesburg still playing football.
I turned around. I looked at the screen.
When I looked back
there were no green Moscow eyes.
It stood extinguished Paris, Rome,
or who knows what city,
but in Johannesburg to continue playing football.
2.8.2011.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Moskovske zelene oči
Bilo je to one noći
kad je Pariz gorio u mojim očima,
kad je Moskva sijala u tvojim očima,
a u Johanesburgu se igrao fudbal.
Bilo je to one noći
kad je Rim bio u plamenu u mojim očima
a Moskva je sijala i dalje u tvojim očima
u Johanesburgu se i dalje igrao fudbal.
Bilo je to one beogradske noći
kada je Kalemegdanska terasa
vidjela Paris kako gori
Rim koji je bio u plamenu mojih očiju
a Moskva je i dalje imala sjaj tvojih očiju
u Johanesburgu se i dalje igrao fudbal.
Okrenuo sam se. Pogledao sam u ekran.
Kad sam vratio pogled
nije bilo zelenih moskovskih očiju,
stajao je ugašeni Paris, Rim ili ko zna koji grad
a u Johanesburgu se i dalje igrao fudbal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem