Blond Lock (Plavi čuperak)

Title: Blond Lock

Author: Miroslav Mika Antic

Genre: Poetry

Plot:

This book is a poetry book written by one of the most famous Serbian writers and poets. This book talks about childhood, growing up, and love. This book is named like this because a poem inside the book is called the same and is a very popular poem. I decided to tell you about this poem. So, the name of this poem is "Blond Lock" and talks about a boy thinking about a girl all day long. Now, in the poem it is written that he is thinking about her blond lock, but is that really what the author is telling us? No, he is trying to explain that her beautiful hair twisted his mind and now he can't stop thinking about her. He says that before she appeared in his life, he was a hero and a strong man, but what he admitted in this poem was a big accomplishment because a boy would never admit something like this. He said that her hair, in general her, changed him and from a strong boy, she made him a clumsy one. The poet is trying to express that love is beautiful, but very hard, sometimes in love you say things you don't mean to and get teased after. It can happen that you get worse in school, but you are so madly in love that no medicine can cure you. This poem doesn't actually remind me of anything, it just touches my heart like an angel and tells me that there is that person, just right for me, who can help me be the best me I can. The message is that love can be your best friend, but doesn't always help you, even though you feel like flying through the clouds. Here is the poem translated in English:

A Blond Lock

A blond lock is usually worn
by some over an eye
by some till nose,
but there is one blond lock
imagine where?
- In my head.
How can there be hair in one’s head?
Easily.
In my head.
That’s not my lock of blond hair,
but belongs to a Sanja from the sixth grade “a”
So what?
You’ll see what – when some day
a lock of someone else’s hair
gets inside your head a bit,
and you become lost in thought,
you freeze,
and every so often… blush,
start to bite your nails
and hide your face
and send secret notes,
then torture yourself,
then you study – but none of it makes any sense.
You confuse radish with rhomboids.
You confuse nails with pyramids.
You confuse butterflies with cities.
And sports and handiwork.
And ancient Greeks.
And in desperation, you just don’t know what to do.
Now you see what a blond lock means,
when it’s running through your head for days,
and turns a boy into a real hero
creates a wallflower and klutz.