Dobriša Cesarić

Dobriša Cesarić (1902–1980). He belongs to the most popular Croatian poets of the 20th century. He was known as the poet of heart, but his works often deal with deep thoughts about life. With his simple language, harmonious form and musical verse, he spoke about life, joy and pain. He is the poet of the city and its streets, but he also the poet of nature. The key word of his poetry is «light» which always has double meaning for him.

VAGONAŠI		COACH-DWELLERS
Mi stanujemo u vagonu Što nije nikada na putu. U jednom kutu nam je krevet, A kuhinja u drugom kutu. Tu svaki vagon dimnjak ima, Željezni, nakrivljeni tužni. U ovom kraju stareži i dima Najljepši dan poružni. A naša ulica je duga, Duga, I čudno ime ima: Napuštena pruga. Sve kuće brojeve imadu, Pa ima ga i naša, Bože moj, Al nema tako velikog u gradu K'o naš bijeli željeznički broj. I vrt imade naša kuća: Ukraj pruge drač, Da igrajuć se u njem' djeca Zaborave na glad i plač. U nedjelju, kad stane rad, Eh, onda bijeda pije, pije, Zapjeva ne'ko hrapavim glasom, A ne'koženu bije. Alkohol ubija... znamo, o znamo, Znamo da alkohol škodi, No rakije, rakije, rakije amo, Jer utjehe nema u vodi. Sada je ljeto... veliko, zlatno. Odoše bogataši iz grada Da traže odmora po svijetu, Al' mi smo tu, mi roblje rada. I naše oči dalje gasnu, I znoje se u radu dlanovi; Umjesto nas putovahu svijetom naši stanovi. Nedjelja. Tužno. Znamo, o znamo, Znamo da alkohol škodi, No rakije, rakije, rakije amo, Jer utjehe nema u vodi.		We live in the coach which never goes anywhere, the bed is in one corner and the kitchen in the other. There is an iron, tall and leaned chimney on each coach. The prettiest day becomes gloomy in this area of old garbage and smoke. But our street is long, long, and it has a very strange name: the deserted railroad. All houses have their numbers, so does our house, of course, but there is nowhere in the town as large and white as our railway number of the coach. There is even a garden by our house, it's weed near the rails, so that children while playing there could forget hunger and crying. On Sunday, when the work is over, then the poor drink and drink. Someone sing in a harsh voice, and someone beats his wife. Alcohol kills us... we know that, we know that alcohol is harmful, but give us more and more brandy, because there is no condolence in water. It is summer now... long, golden summer. The rich went out of the town to find rest, but we, the slaves of work, are here. Our eyes lose their brightness, and our palms sweat working; instead of us our houses travelled the world. Sunday. It is sad. We know that alcohol is harmful, but give us more and more brandy, because there is no condolence in water.

The poem deals with the poorest class of the people who even don't have a proper home. Their home is ironically compared with a home it should be. But life in such a poverty and hunger turns people to alcoholism. The weekdays pass in work and survival, but their misery is even greater on Sundays when everybody should rest. Their life is then unbearable, they either drink or quarrel and beat their wives, blaming each other for their misery. Long and golden summer doesn't bring them rest, nothing changes for them, there is the mocking conclusion that instead of them their homes saw the world.

PREDJESENJI DAN		THE DAY BEFORE AUTUMN
Već nema sunce starog žara, Al' dan je nasmiješen i vedar. Bez posla i ne vičuć više Posljednji prođe sladoledar. Tumara bijeli čovjek ljeta Po gradu, nevesela lica. Kakikad padne žuti list Pred pred kotač njegovih kolica. To javlja jesen da je tu, I zemlja čeka prvu kišu, A kestenjari – ti uglari – Prašinu ljeta s peći brišu.		There is no old heat of the sun although the day is nice and smiling. Having no job silently ice-cream-man passes. The man in white wonders through the town, his face is sad. From time to time a yellow leaf falls in front his cart. It announces the autumn is coming and earth waits for the first rain. The chestnut sellers on the corners clean the summer dust from the stoves.}

The exchange of food sold in the streets represents the exchange of the seasons. The ice-cream man gives his place to the chestnut seller just as the summer gives its place to autumn. The heat of the sun gives place to the first rain. Passing of time is inevitable. It brings change of the mood, the ice-cream man is not happy any more, he is silent, he doesn't shout out about his ice cream any more. He becomes sad. But the poet keeps his optimism, the day remains sunny, the light doesn't go away. A new joy comes with the chestnut sellers. The life is passing, but each period bring its joy and there is no need to cry for the past.

NARANČA		ORANGE
Dohvatih naranču sa stola, I najedanput U svijesti mi sinu Sad je zima Neprijazna, duga, A ja u ruci držim komad juga. I zlati mi se naranča u ruci. Sačuvala je malo južnog sunca Na svojoj kori, I smije se, I miriše, I gori.		I took an orange from the table and suddenly I realized that it was unkind and long winter, but in my hand I kept a piece of south. The golden orange is in m hand. It saved a bit of southern sun in its peel. It smiles, and smells, and burns

Keeping an orange in his hand makes him aware of the unpleasant winter which arrived. But the orange reminds him of the south summer, as if it took some of the heat of the south where it grew and kept it in its colour. The orange is a symbol of brightness, «it burns», which should enlighten dark and sad moments of our life.

SLAVONIJA

SLAVONIA

Stara se Slavonija opet
Otvara ganutome srcu.

Slušam ... U klasju pjeva cvrčak
Da dani žetve dohode,
I da će skoro smeđi hrčak
Žitu doć u pohode.

Po stazi koja poljem vodi,
Dalekoj đermi žena hodi,
I pjeve za sebe, na putu,
Pjesmu široku, otegnutu,
K'o ova zemlja što je rodi.

The old Slavonia is opened again to my touched heart.

I listen... a cricket sings in the spikes that harvest days are approaching, and that a brown hamster will soon visit wheat.

A woman goes along the path through the field. She goes to the distant draw-well and sings, for herself, a song wide and long as this land which gave her birth.

As every year, Slavonia gives its harvest again. The feeling of joy and happiness is expressed through songs of a cricket and a woman. Everybody is looking forward to the days to come, people, cricket, the little brown hamster. There will be enough food for everyone, so everyone celebrates life. The land is happy itself because it gives the most important wealth to the people –BREAD. There is one more symbol of life, a woman is going to the draw-well, to water which gives life to the people, but to the land too. we mustn't forget that it is summertime, full of sun and heat, and the poets main motive, light, is present again although this time indirectly

Maja Trbara 3AT
Ambra Birtić 3E₂Martina Martinović 3E₂
Danijela Barbarić 3E₂