From the collection Time of Sunflowers (2023)
Mother
Mati
Night.In my hometown the shadows flutter.As once the sky burns with dusk and fiercely longs to buy back time.The evening smells of incense,and words are washed with peace, a warm whisper from the iconof my dear Three-Handed Mother,the little Mother of Ljeviška.
Do not ask me, my dear, how long time lasts,or what stirs in the depths of my universe;all is lonely and restless in the soul.The heart is such: it does not speak, yet breathes;a small flame that flares, kindling into fire.
Who but a mother calls me so,through night and tears blessing me endlessly,without fear, from a distant stone,without a tear, without a name.
— Vera BasorTranslated from the Serbian.
Read the original Serbian
Noć.U mom rodnom gradu lepršaju sjene.Ko nekad nebo žari predvečerjem i silno želi otkupiti vrijeme.Tamjanom miriše veče,i mirom miju riječi, topli šapat sa ikoneTrojeručice moje mile.Ljeviške majčice.
Ne pitaj me, mila moja, koliko traje vrijeme,i šta se zbiva u dubini mog svemira;sve je usamljeno i nemirno u duši.Srce je takvo, ne zbori, a diše;plamičak što plamti, vatrom razgorjeva.
Ko li do mati zove me tako,kroz noć i suze blagosilja beskrajno,bez straha sa dalekog kamena,bez suze, bez imena.