Who doesn’t know I come from Rastušje And went to school in Podvinje?... A winter’s morning. Frost. I’m walking alone from the village. Passing beside the frozen Glogóvica Suddenly I hear Crackling, crunching, crashing… Someone’s crossing in my direction? I immediately think of the last night’s talk Of wolves coming out of Bosnia. In fear My feet Begin to run, Without a backward glance Nearly to Podvinje Where, in tears, I meet the milkmen. The milkmen asked me: What’s up? Nothing, nothing, I said; And off I go. That evening my mother happened to mention That the ice on the Glogóvica was cracking with the cold. I heard it too! I said; And laughed.
Dragutin Tadijanović was born in the village of Rastušje. He published his first poem in 1922. He enrolled in the Faculty of Forestry at the University of Zagreb, but graduated in Literature and Philosophy in 1937.
He worked as the lector of the official paper Narodne Novine, taught at the Academy of Arts in Zagreb and later worked in publishing. He joined the Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts Literary Institute, where he was the director between 1953 and 1973. He also served as the president of the Society of Croatian Writers from 1964 to 1965, and became an academician of the Academy.
Tadijanović died in 2007, aged 101.Read more about this poet
About this poem
This poem, representing Croatia, is part of The Written World – our collaboration with BBC radio to broadcast a poem from every single nation competing in London 2012.