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Long ago I was a child …
In some other place,
At a different time,
No internet and no cell phone.

With a window overlooking a yard,
With a meadow, which called us on a game –
With the game to the first hours of the evening,
With first sympathies, with the first defeats.

(The meadow was green, floral, fragrant.
On it flourished poppies, violets
And cyclamens.)

I still remember those happy days
While I watch how children play
The same games in the new times,
On computers and on cell phones.

And while I think about it,
And while my thoughts take me there,
There, far away, in my backyard
Whose contours I forget slowly,

I feel a sadness and one silent thought –
That I come back one more time,
That I feel like a child again,
That I don’t forget…never.

 

Livada mog djetinjstva

Davno bijah dijete…
Na nekom drugom mjestu,
U drugačijim vremenima,
Bez interneta i bez mobitela.

S prozorom koji gleda na dvorište,
S livadom koja zove na igru –
S igrom do prvih večernjih ura,
S prvim simpatijama, s prvim porazima.

(Livada bijaše zelena, cvjetna, mirisna.
Na njoj su cvjetali makovi,
Ljubičice i ciklame.)

Još se rado sjetim tih dana
Dok gledam kako djeca igraju
Iste igre u novim vremenima,
Na kompjuterima i na mobitelima.

I dok razmišljam o tome,
I dok me misli tamo vode,
Tamo daleko, u moje dvorište
Čije konture već polako zaboravljam,

Obuzima me sjeta i jedna tiha misao –
Da se još jednom vratim,
Da se osjetim poput djeteta,
Da ne zaboravim…

 

Vlasta M.Kragic

Autor VlastaMK

Vlasta Marinić-Kragić
Split

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