U Predvečerje
by Izet SarajlićNa igralištu
jedan mladić
svira na gitari
a iznad njega
prolijeće granata s Poljina.
Budući sarajevski Bulat Okudžava?
Mladiću,
samo mi ostaj živ,
a umjetnost,
koja je meni bila sve,
umjetnost je,
vjeruj mi,
sasvim nevažna!
At Dusk
by Izet SarajlićOn the soccer pitch
a boy
strums his guitar;
overhead
a grenade flies in from Poljina.
Could he become Sarajevo’s own Bulat Okudžava?
Young man,
just focus on staying alive.
Art,
which for me was everything once,
art is,
trust me,
totally unimportant.
translated from Bosnian by Sara Nović