A great man is one who collects knowledge the way a bee collects honey and uses it to help people overcome the difficulties they endure - hunger, ignorance and disease!
- Nikola Tesla

Remember, remember always, that all of us, and you and I especially, are descended from immigrants and revolutionists.
- Franklin Roosevelt

While their territory has been devastated and their homes despoiled, the spirit of the Serbian people has not been broken.
- Woodrow Wilson

SA

 

People Directory

Milan Vukčević

Milan Radoje Vukcevich (Milan R. Vukčević) (March 11, 1937 – May 10, 2003) was a Yugoslav scientist, chess International Master, Grandmaster chess problem composer, and writer.

Vukcevich was born in Belgrade. In 1955 he won the Yugoslav Junior Championship, drawing a six game match with Bent Larsen in the same year. He became a chess International Master in 1958, and in 1960 played for Yugoslavia at the Chess Olympiad in Leipzig and had the second best overall score at the Student Chess Olympiad in Leningrad. In 1963 he moved to the United States, settling in Ohio.

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Publishing

Poemes de Jovan Dučić / Песме Јована Дучића

Translated into French by Petar Bubresko. Bilingual edition (French and Serbian)

The first bilingual edition translations of poems in French of this prince of Serbian poetry. These translations of poems Dučić meet two objectives: to publicize the work of the poet to Francophone readers and pay tribute to both the Serbian language Dučić and French language to which the great poet and Petar Bubreško were passionately attached. This book is dedicated to Leposava Bubreško (1923-2013) professor Bubreško’s wife who wanted so much this work to be published.

Publishers: Sebastian Press, Vidoslov, and Metokhia

216 pages, soft bound, published in 2015, price $15


Песме Јована Дучића

На француски језик превео проф. др Петар Д. Бубрешко

Ова књига је посвећена Лепосави Бубрешко (1923-2013), супрузи професора Петра Д. Бубрешка, која је толико желела да ово дело изађе на светлост

Саиздавачи: Видослов, Требиње и Metokhia, Paris

ПОЕЗИЈА

Мирна као мрамор, хладна као сена,
Ти си бледо тихо девојче што снева.
Пусти песма других нека буде жена,
Што по нечистим улицама пева.

Ја не мећем на те ђинђуве са траком,
Него жуте руже у те косе дуге:
Буди одвећ лепа да се свиђаш сваком,
Одвећ горда да би живела за друге.

Буди одвећ тужна са сопствених јада,
Да би ишла икад да тешиш ко страда,
А чедна, да водиш гомиле што нагле.

И стој равнодушна, док око твог тела,
Место китњастог и раскошног одела,
Лебди само прамен тајанствене магле.

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