Ćuran
Niz popinu stazu
šepuri se ćuran,
nadaleko ćurliče –
život mu je buran.
U kuću kod pope
dospeo pred post,
ni tada ne bi,
da ne skoči s most.
Na kamion pao
među glupe ćurke,
sad kad ih pogleda –
crvene ko bulke.
Post se bliži kraju,
smišlja bekstvo svoje,
i ćurke bi za njim –
sekire se boje.
Osvanulo jutro,
popa gladi bradu,
pa malo, malo gledi
na obližnju kladu.
I popadija dala
noževe da oštre,
na sve živo diže glas
ko za vreme smotre.
Pretrnuo ćuran,
sva ga jeza hvata,
sakrio se mučenik
iza teških vrata.
Počela liturgija,
pričest je u toku,
mora popi pobeći
u jednome skoku.
Al' ćurke ga spazile,
jurnule za njim,
te od silne prašine
posustaše sasvim.
Nagario ćuran
da umakne brže,
i ćurkama glupim
što mu propast drže.
ENGLISH TRANSLATION – Picture Book Style
The Turkey
Down the priest’s front path,
the turkey struts with pride,
gobbling loud for all to hear –
life’s a lively ride.
He ended up at the priest’s,
just before the fast,
and never would have gotten there
if he hadn’t jumped at last.
He fell onto a lorry
full of silly hens,
and now when he looks at them –
red as poppy stems.
The fast is nearly over,
he’s plotting his escape,
and the hens would follow him –
from the butcher’s blade to shape.
Morning came, the priest
stroked his thoughtful beard,
and kept glancing at the chopping block
that everyone had feared.
The priest’s wife handed knives,
sharp and shining bright,
and shouted orders all around –
like soldiers lined for fight.
The turkey froze in terror,
chills ran down his back,
he hid behind the heavy doors,
ready for attack.
The service had just started,
the holy bread was near,
but the turkey knew he had to flee –
and leap away from here.
But the hens had seen him,
and chased him down the lane,
till dust rose high and all of them
were panting out in vain.
The turkey dashed in hurry,
escaping doom’s embrace,
and left the silly hens behind –
still guarding his disgrace.
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