There is nothing more annoying to me than not being able to find an original-language version of a poem. I could find some Serbian scholarly writing on this poem (ah the кристал-женка!) and Tadić’s work, but not the whole poem itself. Bah!

Icicle
–Novica Tadić
The icicle is a crystal-woman
cold sweetheart
I know all about her
because she’s my sweetheart

We meet in the old park
secretly
under the trees

Her red-haired servants
the squirrels
come down for her

so they may eat
something too