ZEKINA RAZGLEDNICA ŠUMARLUKA
autor:Nelly Poerich
Spremio se zeka
kao stari deka,
potkresao brkove,
gladeći ih nagore.
I uši je štrcao,
do neba ih digao,
frapirao orlove
sve krilate stvorove.
Zečicu je zaposlio,
strogoćom je oznojio,
da ga četkom oriba,
svaki mišić razgiba.
Oficirski da korača
kad se lati okidača,
da oduči rafala
ta lovačka njuškala.
I jutros se namerili,
strahom šumu zaposeli.
Lisice se razbežale,
k’o krtice zakopale.
I vukova budna straža —
cirkuzanta kamuflaža,
a medvedi ucvikali,
obećanja zataškali.
svoje šape parkirali.
Samo ose — zujalice,
radoznale zevalice,
bumbarima bodre trap,
skoro da ih zviznu kap.
Uka, frka, tandrčuka,
razglednica šumarluka.
zekan puškom lov zaseda,
brzinom sve čika mrko —
ko ga stigne, taj je crk’o.
Narogušen svojim uhom,
belim uhom, kao duhom:
„Hajte, lovci, hitri momci,
ne drž’te se kao moljci!
da vidimo ko je as!“
I kad šumu ćuk zaćuti,
meci će vas obasuti.
U zekana hitre noge
zastrašiće, zastrašiće
sva šunjala šumske sloge.
Uka, frka, tandrčuka,
razglednica šumarluka.
Prevod na engleski
Zeka’s Postcard from the Forest
The rabbit got ready,
like an old granddaddy,
trimmed his whiskers neat,
brushed them upward, sweet.
He stretched up his ears,
so tall to the spheres,
startling every eagle
and all winged people.
He set his doe to work,
with strictness — no shirk,
to scrub him with a brush,
make each muscle flush.
To march like an officer,
when he grabs the trigger,
to scare off with a burst
those hunters, the worst.
And this morning they came,
fear spread through the game,
foxes fled in fright,
like moles out of sight.
The wolves on guard alert —
a circus disguise expert,
and the bears ran away,
their promises gone astray.
Like badgers in a cave,
their paws they parked and gave.
Only wasps — buzzing spies,
curious with wide eyes,
cheered the bumbling bees’ lap,
almost gave them a slap.
Clamor, racket, boom and cheer,
a forest postcard — loud and clear.
Up ahead, a grey head peeks,
the rabbit’s gun in ambush speaks,
swift as lightning, oh beware —
catch him, and you’ll end right there!
With his ear all bristled white,
like a spirit in the night:
“Come on, hunters, speedy boys,
don’t just flutter like moth toys!
Braggarts, give a faster pace,
let’s see who wins the chase!”
And when the owl makes the hush,
bullets at you it will rush.
The rabbit’s swift and fleet,
your sneaking will meet defeat,
all forest truce retreats.
Clamor, racket, boom and cheer,
a forest postcard — loud and clear.
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