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✍️ Lektura (srpski)
PETAO MRKI DANAS SLAVI
Petao Mrki danas slavi,
jutrom ranim on se javi,
k’o budilnik budi pravo –
„Koji mu je jutros đavo?“
buditi ga odmah mora.
Uveliko sviće zora,
a pozvao sve iz šora.
Zabrinuta koka jadna
pipnu krestu – ona hladna.
Na grudi mu glavu stavi:
„Da l’ se možda mrtav pravi?“
Umeo je da se šali,
da ih svojim smehom kali,
al’ ovako nikad nije –
prokletinja mnogo pije!
Krilima ga šamarala,
svu noć poslom tumarala.
Kokodaknu gordo Gora,
već pognuta od umora.
„Noć si s’ šurom kulirao,
zalihe nam kalirao,
k’o džak trbuh otežao,
žiškom pamet ožežao.
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Na panj sat postavio,
švaler Mrki ostario.
Krevelji se, kaskadira,
kazaljkama paradira!
Mrgodi se, na zlo huška,
k’o cvrcinka vrca Ruška.
Daj, trgni tim repom barem,
biće slavlje – koka harem!
Pozvao si tol’ke goste,
zbog tebe će svi da poste.
Trebaće nam tovar žita,
peške moraš sve do rita.
Ne lenji se, ustaj brže!
Kuma Daca danas stiže,
i predvodnik onaj Ranko,
i budući zet – naš Janko.
Ne šali se više sa mnom,
zaspao si čvrstim sanom.
Baš si jedna luda glava,
baš si zasp’o kad je slava!“
Autorka: Nelly Poerich
🌍 Prevod (engleski)
Rooster Mrki’s Celebration
Rooster Mrki’s day has come,
at dawn he crows, awake each one.
Like an alarm he calls out loud –
“Why’s he acting strange today?” they crowd.
Hen Gora wonders, full of fright,
“Wake him up, this isn’t right!”
The morning breaks, the sky turns red,
yet all the neighbors he has led.
Worried Gora touches near,
his comb feels cold – she shakes with fear.
She lays her head upon his chest:
“Is he just playing, taking rest?”
He used to joke, to cheer them all,
with laughter ringing in the hall,
but never has he slept this way –
the rascal drinks too much, they say!
She flaps her wings to shake him tight,
she worked all through the weary night.
She clucks aloud, though tired sore,
Hen Gora cannot take much more.
“You spent the night out with your kin,
you’ve wasted stores – that’s quite a sin!
Your belly’s heavy like a sack,
your fiery wit has burned to black.
You placed a clock upon the stump,
the aging flirt, a foolish chump.
You grimace, strut, you strut in vain,
you march the clock hands all again!
You scowl, you grumble, stir up spite,
like Ruška buzzing all the night.
Come on, at least just shake your tail,
the feast awaits – hens’ grand regale!
So many guests you called to come,
and now they’ll fast because of rum.
We’ll need a load of grain today,
you’ll walk to Rito, no delay!
Don’t laze around, get up, be quick!
Our godmother Daca’s coming thick,
and leader Ranko too, beware,
and Janko – son-in-law to share.
Don’t play these jokes, enough, you clown,
you’ve fallen in a slumber down.
Oh foolish head, you’ve lost the game –
you slept through glory, slept through fame!”
Author: Nelly Poerich
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