In a garden works a maiden, Digging furrow, water decoy, To the garden 'luring water, To give drink to early flowers, Early flowers, whitest basil, Whitest basil, gold carnation; Where she's furrowing, there she's sleeping. Putting head in sweetest basil, Hands are lying in carnations, Feet are plac'd in shallow hollow, Covered with a fragile kerchief; Beat upon her dew-drops slender, Like a rain-soaked watermelon. Now there comes a callow youth, Callow youth and not yet married, Grasping two posts, leaps the railing, Springing lightly into garden, Then commences soliloquizing: "Should I pluck a bunch of flowers? Should I kiss a sleeping maiden? Bunch of flowers lasts till mid-day, But a maiden lasts forever." B. S. S.
CLXI
JOVO AND MARIA[[60]]
Breeze fans up o'er roses 'long the meadow, To the rich white tent of Jovo, youthful, Where there's Jovo with Maria sitting: Jovo writing and Maria sewing; Ink runs short for Jovo where he's writing, And Maria golden thread is losing, Then to Maria, Jovo thus is speaking: "Oh, my Maria, mine own cherish'd lov'd one! Is my soul to thee a dear possession? For a pillow is my right hand doughty?" Mara to him gently whispering slowly: "Believe me, Jovo, darling of my heart-throb, Dearer to me is thy soul much dearer, Than are altogether four of brothers; Softer to me thy own right hand doughty, Than four softest pillows of my choosing." B. S. S.
CLXII
ROSE TREE[[61]]
Planted rose-tree midst of Novi-Sad town, O my rose-bud, O my sorrow rose tree, Cannot pick you, neither give you sweetheart: For my sweetie vents her anger on me, Gliding past my courtyard stealthy, Like the slave who passes Turkish graveyard. B. S. S.
CLXIII
DARLING'S WRATH[[62]]
O my darling, be not wrathful; Should I, myself, show my hot displeasure, All of Bosnia never could appease us, Not all Bosnia nor the Hercegovina. B. S. S.