Parfum Of Mowed Grass ~ Miris Pokošene Trave Poem by Jankovic Zoran

I know I'm a wingless butterfly
but I didn't learn to bite.
I just sharpen the bitter memories.

I can see your smile fading,
the greenery of an undying, eternal youth.
Look, now I'm lying next to you.
I love the parfum of your, mowed grass.

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Miris pokošene trave

Znam da sam leptir bez krila
ali nisam naučio da ujedam.
Ja samo oštrim gorke uspomene.

Vidim da blijedi tvoj osmijeh,
zelenilo nedosanjane, vječne mladosti.
Pogledaj, sad ležim pored tebe.
Volim miris tvoje, pokošene trave.