My Old Village

Many years have passed

and we have grown white and old.

Our beautiful village

we have never forgotten it.

Green village, my Zeleniche,

you are not as you once were.

Your face has changed so much

while we were far away from you.

We remember the evenings

when the streets filled with children,

and the old women on their stools

sat together sharing gossip.

Your stone-paved roads

have now been covered with asphalt,

and with the poles of the power lines

the nights are brightly lit.

The two rivers of the village

have turned into walkways,

bringing together the villagers

who once lived somewhat apart.

The little irrigation channels are gone,

and the donkeys are gone as well.

The donkeys wandered far away

to find themselves some grass.