I've been reading a lot of Aleksa Šantić for the past few years, but I haven't seen any translations to English that really do him justice (not that I've been l

I've been reading a lot of Aleksa Šantić for the past few years, but I haven't seen any translations to English that really do him justice (not that I've been looking for them). Last night, returning from the warm hamam I passed by the garden of the old Imam And lo, in the garden, in the shade of a jasmine, There with a pitcher in her hand stood Emina. What beauty! By iman I could swear, She would not be ashamed if she were at the sultan’s! And the way she walks and her shoulders move... -- Not even an Imam’s amulet could help me! I offered her salaam, but by my dīn, Beautiful Emina would not even hear it. Instead, scooping water in her silver pitcher, Around the garden she went to water the roses. A wind blew from the branches down her lovely shoulders Unraveling those thick braids of hers. Her hair gave off a scent of blue hyacinths, Making me giddy and confused! I nearly stumbled, I swear by my faith, But beautiful Emina did not come to me. She only gave me a frowning look, Not caring, the naughty one, that I am crazy for her! This entry contains links to articles explaining some of the more archaic words: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emina_%28poem%29 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emina_%28poem%29