If love knocks, again tomorrow,
on the door of remembrance
there will be a spring in our house,
everything will blossom,
the thought of beautiful will awaken us.
If love shines, again tomorrow,
below our open window
with the breath of ancient youth
the house will smell like a spring,
like the awakening of sleepy memories.
If love overwhelms, again tomorrow,
our desires with false hope
we will look forward to spring memories,
but we will know that love, long ago,
doesn't reside at that address,
that we will never meet again.
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Proljeće sjećanja
Ako ljubav, sutra opet, pokuca
na otvorena vrata sjećanja
biće u našoj kući proljeće,
sve će procvjetati,
probudiće nas misao na lijepo.
Ako ljubav, sutra opet, zasija
ispod našeg, otvorenog prozora
dahom davne mladosti
kuća će mirisati na proljeće,
na buđenje zaspalih uspomena.
Ako ljubav, sutra opet, obaspe
lažnom nadom naše želje
radovaćemo se proljeću sjećanja,
a znaćemo da ljubav, odavno,
ne stanuje na toj adresi,
da se mi nikada više nećemo sresti.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem