Far out on green acres
in the tenth village lives Antuntun.
His mind is paired odd,
wrinkled like a prune.
Everything he does
It’s a work of art:
In the garden hatching eggs
he plants and chicks grow smart.
When the Winter day turns dusky
He cooks dark in the crockpot.
The broken egg he sews
With a thread of a new plot.
If a meal is salty enough
He listens with the ear.
He teaches a fish to taste
a song, so he can hear.
Instead of the goat, his bike
grazes grass in the field.
To catch a mouse he sets a blank,
the pig in a flaky, tasty shield.
He feeds geese with hay,
And salts sheep with the first snow.
In the Spring he plants a mother hen
To lay lots of money, so he can mow.
In the Summer he rows a canoe
through the barley fields in one tune.
In its own way lives
His life Antuntun.

(This is an attempt of the poem translation written by the Croatian children’s poet Grigor Vitez. The translation expresses the poem “spirit”. More about Grigor Vites, https://hr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grigor_Vitez )

U desetom selu
Živi Antuntun.
U njega je malko
Neobičan um.
On posao svaki
Na svoj način radi:
Jaja za leženje
On u vrtu sadi.
Kad se jako smrači,
On mrak grabi loncem.
Razlupano jaje
On zašiva koncem.
Da l’ je jelo slano,
On to uhom sluša.
A ribu da pjeva
Naučiti kuša.
Na livadu tjera
Bicikl da pase.
Da mu miše lovi,
On zatvori prase.
Guske sijenom hrani,
Snijegom soli ovce.
A nasadi kvočku
Da mu leže novce.
Kad kroz žito ide
On sjeda u čun.
Sasvim na svoj način
Živi Antutun.

Original poem: Kako Živi Antuntun by Grigor Vitez (children literature, poetry), http://likovna-kultura.ufzg.unizg.hr/Antuntun.htm

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