Ašikovanje – Love That Spoke in Silence

Ašikovanje was once the quietest song of the heart.
It didn’t take much—just a single glance across the courtyard
for a light to ignite in the chest, one that words themselves could not describe.

That shyness… that sweet, rosy shyness
that would arrive before both thought and breath.
It was a sign that something pure had gently been born in the soul, like blossom just before the first sabah.

Ašikovanje was walking along soft threads of desire and restraint.
One step closer, then two steps back— so the heart would not confess what the eyes had long been singing.
And that silent flutter, that trembling of the soul,
said more than any sentence ever could.

These were loves that breathed slowly,
as if afraid to spoil the magic with their own voice.
Loves born of whispers and raised in silence.
Innocent, tender, modest— afraid to grow too fast.

And sevdah… sevdah was their companion,
the quiet hum of the heart beneath the skin,
a music only two could hear— one that doesn’t hurt, but softens,
that doesn’t break, but melts the hardened parts of a person.

And what remains is a memory of those times:
of gates that marked the boundary of modesty,
of lanterns scenting the evening,
of a heart that leaps before lips dare say anything more than a soft: "Are you there…?”
And within those words lived an entire youth,
an entire longing, everything unspoken that burned in the chest.

And today… today, only sevdalinke remain
to remind us of ašik-sevdisanje,
of all those quiet loves born under moonlight,
of blushing cheeks, trembling hands,
of hearts that loved softly—but most strongly.

They sing in our place and guard what was once sacred:
innocent love, modesty, ašikovanje and sevdah—
everything the heart once spoke more softly than a whisper,
and more powerfully than words.

Ašikovanje je nekada bilo najtiša pjesma srca.
Nije trebalo mnogo - samo jedan pogled preko avlije,
pa da se u grudima zapali svjetlost koju ni riječi nisu znale opisati.

Onaj stid… taj slatki, rumeni stid
koji bi preduhitrio i misao i dah.
Bio je to znak da se u duši nježno rodilo nešto čisto,
kao behar pred prvi sabah.

Ašikovanje je bilo hodanje po mekim nitima želje i mjere.
Jedan korak bliže, pa dva koraka nazad -
da srce ne prizna ono što su oči već odavno ispjevale.
I taj tihi treptaj, taj drhtaj duše, govorio je više od svake rečenice.

To su bile ljubavi što su disale polako,
kao da se boje da ne pokvare čaroliju vlastitim glasom.
Ljubavi koje su se rodile iz šapata, a rasle na tišini.
Nevine, nježne, smjerne -
uplašene da prebrzo porastu.

A sevdah… sevdah je bio njihova pratnja,
tihi huk srca pod kožom,
ona muzika koju samo dvoje može čuti,
što ne boli - nego raznježi,
što ne slama - nego topi tvrde dijelove čovjeka.

I ostane uspomena na ta vremena:
na kapije što su bile granica stida,
na fenjer što zamiriše večer,
na srce što poskoči prije nego što se usne usude reći išta više od tihog:
“Jesil’ tu…?”
I u tim riječima stajala je čitava mladost,
čitava želja, sve ono nedorečeno što je gorilo u grudima.

A danas… danas su ostale sevdalinke
da podsjećaju na ašik-sevdisanje,
na sve te tihe ljubavi što su se rađale pod mjesečinom,
na rumen obraza, na drhtaj ruke,
na srca koja su voljela tiho - ali najjače.

One pjevaju umjesto nas i čuvaju ono što je nekad bilo svetost:
nevinu ljubav, stid, ašikovanje i sevdah — sve ono što je srce nekada govorilo tiše od šapata, a jače od riječi.