HAIKU


Proljeće




Došle su rode ((Proljeće)




Došle su rode,
na krovu stare kuće
svijaju gnijezdo.



Snijeg se već topi ,
snješku pak puzi glava
i niče trava.



Odlaze djeca,
ode i dječja graja -
ostaje pustoš



Ptice selice
donose već proljeće -
lijep proljetni dan.



Pile se stišće
pod toplo krilo koke -
sretne matere.



Pognuti starac
u mlaci gleda oblak
i jato ptica.



Iz tvrdog zrna
proklijava novi cvijet -
mirisan i lijep.



Mjesec prolazi
grančicama stabala
a sjene plešu.



Proljetno veče,
već se čuje sove zov
dok šuma spava.



Cvate trešnjin cvijet,
divan, mek i nježan cvat,
proljeća nam znak.



Gore visoko
sad dvije ptice lete
svoj ljubavni ples.



Evo, mjesec sja,
i sjene već igraju
svoj nestašni ples.



Jedna se ptica
nisko na grani ljulja,
mačka se šulja.



Stoji visok hrast
kojem sasvim malen crv
korijen nagriza.



Taj stari panj
već godinama žali
što stabla nema.



Dvije rajske ptice
u malenoj nam lađi
proljeće nose.



Veliki prasak
u potpunoj tišini
probudi svemir.



Noćas svaki šum
izaziva velik strah
dok ne svane dan.



Granate lete,
zvižduk im nebo para,
zemljom sije strah.



Svezane oči
i ruke iza stupa -
čekaju plotun



Zašto baš na toj
malenoj grudi zemlje
toliko boli?



Sada glas ptice
čuješ negdje u noći -
netko umire.



Mjesec je skriven
iza tamnog oblaka
i čeka vjetar.



Negdje u noći
prosuo je mjesec pun
srebro po zemlji.



U sobi tama
a pokrivači šušte
i oči sjaje.



Bijele joj ruke
u tamnoj noći gladi
trak mjesečine.



Mjesečev se sjaj
šulja kroz njihov prozor
da im otme san.



Na valu snova
ljulja se mala nada -
možda odraste.



Plameni se cvijet
pustinjom sad kotrlja
olujom nošen.



Tu pokraj staze
gdje mnoge noge gaze
leži cipela.



Novčić na putu
nalaznika čeka svog
i smiješak njegov.



Bačen na vodu
kamen kolute stvara -
onda potone.



Zvona zazvone,
golubovi polete -
zvonik osta sam.



Maleni leptir
što se spustio na cvijet
grančicu ljulja.




Dalje: Ljeto . . . Next: Summer

Haiku - Sadržaj . . . Contents

HOME







Spring




Storks Have Just Come (Spring)




Storks have just come here,
on the roof of the old house
they make their new nest.



Snow is just melting,
the snowmanns head is gliding
grass is shooting up.



Children go away,
their clamor disappears,
just the gap remains.



Migratory birds
bring us the nice day of spring -
beautifully warm.



Chickens squeeze closer
under the warm wing of hen -
fortunate mother.



An old man bent down
sees: clouds and birds are flying
in the pool of water.



Out of a hard grain
a new flower germinates -
fragrant and nice.



The moonlight breaks through
the branches of trees in woods
which swing in the wind.



The spring evening,
they can hear the owl's voice
while the wood still sleeps.



The cherry blossom,
being nice, soft and tender
shows that spring has come.



Up there very high
two birds are quickly dancing
the dance of their love.



Look the moon that shines,
shadows go to have their dance,
playfull and frisky.



A bird on the twig
is swinging just low down,
a cat steals upon.



There is a tall oak
and there is just a small worm
which bites the oak´s root.



There is an old stump
which is missed for many years
the trunk was cut down.



Birds of paradise
two of them within a boat
bring us just the spring.



A great explosion
in the complete silence
awakes the cosmos.



Each sound this night
causes just anxiety
until the day comes.



Shells are in the air,
their whistles are rending air,
on the earth they fear.



Wearing a blind fold,
having their hands behind piles,
they wait for salvo.



Why upon the small
piece of grain of the earth
so much cry and pain?



Now the voice of birds
can be heard somewhere at night -
somebody will die.



The moon is hidden
behind the dark heavy cloud
waiting for the wind.



Somewhere in the night
the full moon has scattered
silver on the earth.



Dark is in the room
blankets on beds are rustling
and eyes are shining.



The beem of moonlight
during the dark night in bed
smoothes her white hands.



The moonlight just creeps
through their small open window
to steal their sleeping.



Upon the waves of dreams
they swing small expectations
until they grow up.



The burning blossom
is rolling down the desert
carried by the storm.



Just hear near the path
where many feet go along
a shoe is lying.



A coin on the way
is waiting for its finder
and for his smiling.



Thrown at the water
a stone makes some circles
and then it goes down.



Always when bells toll
pigeons fly quickly away -
tower stays alone.



A small butterfly
sitting down on the blossom
makes all the sprigs swing.