MorePoezije

Životni balans je zbilja nužan
stoga si sebi dati ga dužan
on je avans sretne budućnosti
jedina mjera protiv bešćutnosti.

Vaga i spokoj duha, uma i tijela
vibrira i usmjerava čovjeka cijela
da rasporedi energije, misli i snage
premosti lako sve visoke i niske lage.

Ta lakoća stvara i određuje harmoniju
da ne bi prema jednome činili tiraniju
neprestalan rad samo jednog vida
dovode do otupjelosti i samoga zida.

To otupljenje troši i jako je zamorno
donosi pomutnju, djeluje razorno
uništava sebe pa redom sve blizu
iritira nonšalatno svakoga u nizu.

Ta iritacija pomalo postaje frustracija
vuče prema dnu baš kao i gravitacija
uskoro postane satisfakcija i izolacija
u glavi isključivo moralna kalkulacija.

Pa ti misli uvijek neprestalno rade
svađaju se, mire, pomalo i klade
uzbuđuju očekivanja, a sa malo nade
ali sasvim teško iz ponora vade.

A tijelo je umorno i prepuno boli
svaka kost i mišić kao da se slomi
pokret poput tona biva samo teret
vrhunac koji vapi, krevet, samo krevet.

Duša se provuče kroz ta bolna mjesta
želi ozdravljati s ljubavlju i smjesta
jer su njene niti mekane i nježne
kao strune srca za život neizbježne.

S ljubavlju, Željka.

Life balance is truly essential,
so grant yourself what’s duly rightful—
it’s an advance on future bliss,
the sole gauge against heartlessness.

The scale of peace for spirit, mind, and flesh,
vibrates and steers the whole human mesh
to portion out one’s energies, thoughts, strength,
and easily surmount both heights and depths.

That ease creates and sets the harmony,
lest we tyrannize one realm unfairly—
endless toil of just a single kind
leads to numbness and a self-made bind.

That dulling drains and wearies fiercely so,
brings fog and wreaks a ruinous blow,
destroying self, then all that’s near in tow,
irritating everyone in row on row.

That irritation turns to frustration’s pull,
drags downward like sheer gravity’s thrall—
soon satisfaction and isolation blend,
in the head, just moral reckonings pretend.

So thoughts keep churning endlessly on,
they quarrel, reconcile, and place their bets upon,
stirring hopes with scant expectancy,
yet hardly haul you from the deep’s debris.

The body wearies, racked with aches profound,
each bone and muscle seems about to pound—
motion like a tone becomes pure load,
the peak it craves: the bed, that sole abode.

The soul slips through those
sites of pain’s harsh grip,
yearning to heal with love, immediate and swift,
for its threads are soft and tender-spun,
like heartstrings vital, life’s indispensable one.

With love, Željka.