[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DS6OA1NT3g[/youtube]

 Non so per qual ragione
 mi sento così triste:
 una favola d'altri tempi
 non m'esce dalla mente

 L'aria è fresca, si fa notte
 e calmo scorre il Reno;
 scintilla la cima del monte
 nella luce del tramonto.

 La bellissima fanciulla
 sta lassù, meravigliosa;
 nel balenìo degli aurei monili
 pettina i capelli d'oro.

 Si pettina con pettine d'oro,
 mente canta una canzone
 di strana e magnifica,
 ammaliante melodia.

 Il barcaiolo nella sua barchetta
 n'è rapito con tale passione
 che più non scorge gli scogli,
 lo sguardo solo rivolto alla cima.

 Pare che le onde abbian sommerso
 alla fine barca e navigante;
 e questo, con il suo canto,
 ha fatto Lorelei.

Yo no sé qué significa
Que me sienta tan triste;
Una vieja historia
No quiere irse de mi memoria.

El aire es fresco, el día se desvanece,
Y el Rhin fluye silenciosamente;
La cima de la montaña centellea
A la luz de la tarde.

La más bella de las doncellas
Está sentada allí, maravillosa,
Sus joyas de oro resplandecen,
Mientras ella peina sus dorados cabellos.

Los peina con peine de oro,
Mientras canta una canción,
Una canción de maravillosa
E imponente melodía.

El marinero, en su pequeña barca,
La domina con tremendo dolor;
No ve los escarpados arrecifes,
Sólo mira hacia arriba.

Creo que las olas se tragan
Al final barca y marinero;
Y eso, con su canción,
Lo ha hecho Lorelei.

 Sabahudin Hadžialić

Napomena: Autor je bosanskim jezikom u bosanske verse složio

svoju pjesničku oporuku, amanet, testament pjesnicima koji dolaze.

pa ga zatim sam prenio u ingleški, a naš prijatelj Žerar Adam u franceski.

Remarque: L’auteur en bosnien le poète Sabahudin Hadžialić

a traduit lui-même en anglais, la traduction en français est

à notre ami l’écrivain, éditeur et intellectuel Gérard Adam

Travanj je. On ima Isusove godine. Negdje je čuo da su te najbolje. Njemu nisu bile. Rat se uvukao u mozgove i ne popušta. S ratom i strah. Od svega. Sve su mu zapalili. Istina, bio je zapovjednik, ali to nije doživljavao kao najbolju stvar koja mu se mogla desiti. Te noći je odlučio ići na prvu crtu bojišnice. Obići borce. Nešto je načuo da je moral na niskim granama, pa da malo bude s tim ljudima, da ga vide, da s njima podijeli dio ove vlažne noći. S njim su bili i njegovi pomoćnici. U šumi, tiho su se kretali jer je neprijatelj vrlo blizu i stalno se pucalo. Od potmulih pucnjeva neke daleke artiljerije do reskih puščanih zvukova koji su završavali tko zna gdje, a neki bi se rasprskavali i u neposrednoj njihovoj blizini. Te noći je u čeljusti zaradio geler. Nije ga osjetio. Strah je bio jači od bola kojeg je doživio kao oštar žig u predjelu donje vilice. Nije tome pridao posebnu pozornost i nastavili su obilazak crte. Kada su završili s obilaskom, odlučio je da se neće vraćati u zapovjedništvo i da će ostati u šumi. Vozači su otišli po deke i napravili su mali logor. Našli su mjesto u udolini da mogu pušiti cigarete i naložiti malu vatru, a da ih neprijatelj ne uoči. Nisu razgovarali, nisu ni spavali. Svatko je bio u svojim mislima i svatko se plašio. Pucnjava nije jenjavala, a magla je polako počela plaziti šumom. Svi su se natiskali jedan do drugoga oko vatre i tako dočekali prvo praskozorje. Magla je bila gušća i na mahove je izgledala kao neprozirna mliječna koprena koja ih je obavijala i pojačavala njihove strepnje. U jednom takvom trenutku jasno su čuli nečije korake i svima je zastao dah. Polako su uzeli oružje i čekali. Iz koprene je izvirila srna. Uplašena pucnjevima, približila se i stala. Nije se pomjerala i samo je velikim očima netremice gledala ovu jadnu skupinu. Laknulo im je, a srna tražeći sigurnost u svome domu dođe njima i pridruži im se kao da je čitav život živjela u takvoj sredini. Odlučio je da će srnu povesti sa sobom i zapovijedi da je odvedu do ceste i stave u kamion. Smjestio ju je kod nekoga seljaka koji je imao visoku ogradu oko pašnjaka na kojemu su prije rata pasli konji i srni je bilo dobro. Svako jutro bi se budio prije sviju i otišao da vidi kako je njegova srna. Popušio bi cigaretu i vraćao se u zapovjedništvo. I s cigaretama je pri kraju. Nema više nikakvih zaliha. Kutija košta stotinu maraka, a on ima još svega nekoliko kutija. Rat će potrajati, cigareta nema. Ovo što ima pušit će dugo i svaki dan samo po jednu u društvu svoje srne.          Previdio je da nema ni hrane. Svaki dan su mu slali izviješća da nemaju čime nahraniti vojsku. Seljaci su svoje zalihe dobro skrili, a uostalom, oni su njega ionako krivili za rat i za svoje nevolje proizišle iz toga rata. Neuki i jadni ljudi, a možda lukavi i pokvareni, tko bi to onda znao. Što je – tu je.  Hrane nije bilo, a mladi ljudi u odorama nisu imali razumijevanja za bilo kakva i bilo čija sranja o emocijama, srnama, očima srne i slično, u vremena kada je dnevno pogibao najmanje jedan borac. Dođe i taj dan kojega se plašio i nije htio razgovarati, a kamoli misliti o njemu. Večernja analiza bila je više nego tragična. Pomoćnici za sutra nisu imali čime nahraniti vojsku i da bi prekinuo tu mučninu, ustao je, teškim umornim korakom krenuo ka vratima i tek pred samim izlazom iz zadimljene prostorije rekao:

-U redu, neka kuhari večeras odu po nju.-

            Te večeri nije svoju cigaretu pušio u društvu srne. Nije nikako pušio slijedećih nekoliko dana i nije htio razgovarati o hrani slijedećega dana i nije htio jesti i nije htio ništa i rekli su da je bolestan i on se s time složio i znao je zapravo da će to trajati i trajati i…

                                                                                            KAIM57:

Translated by KAIM57:

It is April. He is of Jesus’ age. He heard somewhere those were the best. They were not for him. War prowled in the brains and won’t let go. With war came the fear as well. They burned down everything he had. He was a commander, true, but he did not see this as the best thing that could have happened to him. He decided to go down to the confrontation line tonight. To check on his men. He heard something about moral being very low, so he wanted to spend some time with those men, for them to see him, to share with them part of this wet night. His adjutants were with him. In the woods they were moving quietly because enemy was very near and there was constant fire. From dull shots of some distant artillery to acrid sounds of rifles that ended who knows where, and some would burst very near him. That night he got charnel in his lower jaw. He did not feel it. Fear was stronger than pain that he experienced as a sharp seal in the region of lower jaw. He gave no special attention to this and they continued checking confrontation line. When they were done with the by-passing the confrontation line he decided he would not return to the command center and that he would remain in the woods. Drivers went to get blankets and they made a little encampment. They found a place in the vale so they could smoke cigarettes and light little fire without enemy spotting them. They were not talking but they were not sleeping either. Everyone was in his own thoughts and everyone was afraid. Shooting was not diminishing and fog started creeping slowly through the woods. Everybody thrust one next to the other around the fire waiting for the first daybreak. Fog was getting denser and from time to time it appeared as mat, milky veil that encompassed them and strengthened their fears. In one such a moment they could clearly hear somebody’s steps and everybody held their breaths. Slowly, they took their guns and waited. From the veil leaned out a doe. Frightened by shots, it got near and stopped. It was not moving and with its big eyes it was only observing closely this poor group. They were relieved and the doe, looking for safety in its own home, came to them and joined them as if it spent its all life in an environment like this. He decided to take the doe with him and ordered for it to be taken to the road and to be put in the truck. He settled her with some peasant who had high fence around pasture on which before the war grassed horses and the doe felt good. Every morning he would wake up before everybody else and go to see how his doe is doing. He would have a smoke and return to the command center. He was running out of cigarettes as well. Pack cost hundred marks, and he only had few more packs. War is gong to last, and there are no cigarettes. What he had, he will smoke long and just one each day in company of his doe. He overlooked the fact there was no food either. Every day they sent him reports that there is nothing to feed army with. Peasants hid their supplies well, and anyway, they blamed him for the war and their troubles that came out of that war. Uneducated and poor people, and perhaps cunning and vicious, who could tell that back then. He had what he had. There was no food, and young people in uniforms had no understanding for anybody’s shits about emotions, does, doe’s eyes and similar, in times when at least one solider died each day. So that day, that he was afraid of and did not want to talk, and even less think about, has arrived. Evening analysis was more than tragic. Adjutants had nothing to feed army with tomorrow and in order to break the uneasiness he got up, with heavy, tiered steps went to the door and just in front of very exit out of the smoky room said:

“All right, let cooks go and get her tonight.”

That evening he was not smoking his cigarette in company of his doe. He did not smoke at all during few following days and would not even hear of food and did not want to do anything and they said he was ill, and he agreed with that and knew that, in fact, it would last and last and…

                                                                                              KAIM57