Yeats, William Butler: Vizantija (Byzantium in Serbian)
Byzantium (English)The unpurged images of day recede; The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed; Night resonance recedes, night walkers' song After great cathedral gong; A starlit or a moonlit dome disdains All that man is, All mere complexities, The fury and the mire of human veins.
Before me floats an image, man or shade, Shade more than man, more image than a shade; For Hades' bobbin bound in mummy-cloth May unwind the winding path; A mouth that has no moisture and no breath Breathless mouths may summon; I hail the superhuman; I call it death-in-life and life-in-death.
Miracle, bird or golden handiwork, More miraclc than bird or handiwork, Planted on the star-lit golden bough, Can like the cocks of Hades crow, Or, by the moon embittered, scorn aloud In glory of changeless metal Common bird or petal And all complexities of mire or blood.
At midnight on the Emperor's pavement flit Flames that no faggot feeds, nor steel has lit, Nor storm disturbs, flames begotten of flame, Where blood-begotten spirits come And all complexities of fury leave, Dying into a dance, An agony of trance, An agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve.
Astraddle on the dolphin's mire and blood, Spirit after Spirit! The smithies break the flood. The golden smithies of the Emperor! Marbles of the dancing floor Break bitter furies of complexity, Those images that yet Fresh images beget, That dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea.
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Vizantija (Serbian)Uzmiču žiteljski mutne slike dana; Polegali Carevi pijani vojnici; Uzmiču noćni zvuci: pesma noćnika Posle klepala velike katedrale. Kupola od zvezda il meseca sjajna, prezire Sve što je čovek: Zapetljanstva tašta, Besove i glib u prirodi čoveka.
Preda mnom lebdi slika, čovek ili senka; Pre senka no čovek, pre slika no senka; Jer kalem u Paklu kaišem mumije stegnut Može odmotati stazu izvijuganu; Usta bez glave i bez daha Mogu razbuditi usta što ne dišu; Pozdravljam natčovečno; Zovem to smrt-u-životu i život-u-smrti.
Čudo, ptica ili samo rukotvor zlatan, Pre čudo no rukotvor il ptica, Na zlatnoj grani svetloj od zvezde Može ko petli u Paklu da kriči, Il ljuta zbog meseca, glasno da ruži, U slavi od metala svog postojanoga, Običnu pticu il cvetnu laticu, I sva zapetljanstva od blata i krvi.
O ponoći, po Carskom pločaniku promiču Vatre, ni gorivom hranjene, ni čelikom paljene, Ni vihorom gašene, vatre od vatra rođene, Gde od krvi rođeni dusi dolaze I sva zapetljanstva od besova odlaze, U plesu, premiranje, U ekstazi, umiranje, Umiranje vatre što ništa opaliti ne može.
Na leđima delfina od blata i krvi, Duši, duši! Tu plimu kovnice prekidaju, Kovnice zlata Careve! Mramor po podu za igranje Smiruje besove zapetljanstva, Slike one što već Rađaju slike nove, Delfinima kidano, klepalom trzano more.
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