• [THE BOAT WAS PACKED FULL...]

    THE BOAT WAS PACKED FULL,
    the coast deserted, soon to be lost from sight.

    We were rowing for hours,
    we were departing and arriving.... more »

  • [Unfathomable, just like when I rinse the dirty dishes in the warm...]

    Unfathomable, just like when I rinse the dirty dishes in the warm, gushing water,
    put them aside to dry, and my face is aglow with happiness.
    With an unmeant easiness I open the window to let in the fresh morning air.
    The water is boiling, and from the silvery box I add four teaspoons of coffee.... more »

  • A BEAUTIFUL THING takes place

    A BEAUTIFUL THING takes place:
    the evil as short as the sound.

    the snow has abandoned its whiteness,
    the touch its body.

    in order to make a blood-
    bathed body white again,

    we have abandoned
    our measures & persuasions:

    we have afforded ourselves a joy
    of being blind, deaf & dumb.

    in their newly created lightness
    things bounce and never come back.... more »

  • A BIRD WITH SCORCHED

    A BIRD WITH SCORCHED wings makes its
    way on the wire:

    winter dream:
    wind coiled

    around silence:
    there we go hard

    in our persistence:
    we pick up rocks

    and murder all
    that remains:

    while we murder -
    there is some hope:

    while there is
    some hope -... more »

  • A SWISH OF GLITTERING

    A SWISH OF GLITTERING creatures in
    the air: a school of fish, a flock of birds, a swarm of flies -

    they deprive me of heaviness of walking,
    they deprive me of compulsion of breathing.

    Have you seen them?
    You know, you just open the window and, if you're lucky enough,

    you'll see them. No,
    I haven't seen anything.

    Did you open the window? Yes.
    Well, you do have the window? Yes.

    How come you haven't
    seen them? Are you

    blind? No. Are you
    happy? No, I can

    not answer this. You can
    not answer this? Yes.... more »

  • About The Shoe

    What is a shoe doing in the grass of the park? Ask her at once.
    Let her know it is outrageous. Ask her why she's alone,
    where her left or right match is, why she's not looking for it.
    Why she has agreed to be alone. After the shower she's full of... more »

  • BEZ OSTATAKA. KAO iz žrvnja

    BEZ OSTATAKA. KAO iz žrvnja.
    Zdrobljen. Izmožden. Istjeran.

    Moje sjeme vesla zrakom. Ja sam
    zrela prilika da se upozna šupljina,

    da se žudnja i polet usidre u točci.
    Bijesan sam i nemoćan: zašto se

    sve ovo događa? Ljubavnici su se
    smežurali i isušili poput krajobraza.

    Njihova šuplja tijela nadlijeću rascvale
    livade. Tu ih redovito požanje lovac

    sklon sladogleđu. Dok se njegovo
    sjeme rasprskava, sjene ljubavnika

    zastru njegovo tijelo. Nema ga više.
    Zemljom klizi led i zasijeca disanje.

    U tijela se potom ulije voda i još
    malo se otrpi život sve dok ne. Znam.

    U sve stavljam udio vlastite krivnje.
    Još se ništa nije dogodilo a da ne bih

    osjetio tugu, razočaranje što ništa
    nisam mogao učiniti. Kao, recimo, to

    s tobom. Dok si me voljela, bio sam
    ravnodušan prema tvojoj ljubavi.

    Kao rijeka. Ravnodušna prema svojim
    obalama. Potajice ih miluje. Ništa

    ne iskazuje. Prešutni snošaj. Povremeno
    iskrenje. A onda se obale uruše.

    Sve je sad jezero. Nema više granica. Nema
    uzbuđenja. Trijumf nezainteresiranosti.

    Nijemost ljubavi. Gdje je sada moja obala,
    pita rijeka, pita jezero.

    Stežeš se sa svih strana, više ti ne raspoznajem
    tijelo. Što se dogodilo? Tijela

    se rađaju noću a danju umiru. Noćni narod ne
    poznaje danji. Granicama teku tanke, studene

    vode. U zoru, nad njih se nagnu žene i plaču
    ne bi li ih toplinom svojih suza učinile

    prohodnima. Ponekad mlaz svjetlosti zablista
    u oko žene. Ispruži ruku i dotakne ljubavnikovo

    bedro. On zadrhti. Ruka joj potom uklizne u
    njegovu nutrinu, ščepa srce i iščupa ga. Opet

    poteče granica studeni. Ljubavnik se smežura
    i uzalud zove upomoć. Nitko mu više neće

    doći u onkraj. Osim hladnih tijela drugih
    osakaćenih ljubavnika, prepuštenih ravnodušnosti.

    Vježbanju samoće. Udisanju ostataka
    samih sebe, ostataka vlastite ljubavi.

    Izlaz? Biti epigon vlastite ljubavi.
    imitirati nečiji unutarnju život.

    Evo ih, stižu. Solidarnost u međusobnoj poraženosti.
    Tiha milovanja i tapšanja bez značenja.

    Nepomućeni pogledi puni čežnje.
    Srca nemoćna da zalupaju.... more »

  • ČAMAC SE ISPUNIO

    ČAMAC SE ISPUNIO, obala je
    opustjela, veslali smo satima,

    odlazili smo i dolazili,
    bijaše to jalov posao,

    kazaljke nam se nisu
    primicale, ipak,

    doplovili smo
    u srce nove zemlje,

    u njem je već netko
    bio;

    čamac pun krvi,
    njihao se.... more »

  • ČITAČ JE DODIRA ostao bez posla

    ČITAČ JE DODIRA ostao bez posla.
    Zapravo, zaboravio je vlastiti jezik.

    Jer tamo gdje se radilo o dodiru
    sada se izvija nemilosrdni stisak,

    poput onoga od udava, gmizi posteljom
    i šušlja govoreći, daveći umjesto milujući.

    I govornik je tijela ostao bez posla.
    Zapravo, nikad ni nije bio zaposlen.

    Jer tamo gdje se radilo o tijelu
    bujale su riječi,

    milujući umjesto da dave,
    govoreći umjesto dodirujući.... more »

  • DROBIMO SE I bez tebe

    Bog razmišlja o meni i jede me.
    Tomaž Šalamun
    DROBIMO SE I bez tebe
    koji nas gledaš, zavidan. Iz

    tebe se ne cijedi znoj i ne
    kapa krv. Proziran si poput

    našeg osmijeha, kojeg nam
    daješ, u nedostatku nade, da

    si umišljamo užitak svaki put
    kad se tresemo od nesreće. I

    ti bi rado patio. Ruke su ti
    odviše čiste, zar ne? Bilo bi

    lijepo upoznati gnjecavost
    blata, vrelinu krvi koja oblijeva

    dlanove, suklja iz probušena
    čela. Ili, recimo, da zapodjeneš

    svađu sa mojom ženom? Tko zna
    kako bi se izvukao? Rječitiji si, to

    znam, ali što je sadržaj tvojih riječi
    kada svatko njima raspolaže na

    drugačiji način? Priznaj, izgubio bi
    bitku s njom. Ona bi šutjela, a ti

    ne bi znao koju od riječi da upotrijebiš
    kako bi je izgnao iz te šutnje. Uostalom,

    još nijednom nas nisi izgnao iz bola,
    još uvijek smo unutra, ukliješteni,

    jer nas drži vjera u tebe, vjerojatno smo
    u zabludi, kao i obično, pa kad je

    pomoglo? Zapravo, cijelo ovo vrijeme jedeš
    svijet, ne možeš se zasititi. Posebno one koji

    su svježi, kojima se kapci ne sklapaju i koji
    ti plaze jezik, kojima nosevi strše visoko, do

    neba, gdje ti škakljaju tabane. Najradije bi ih
    zgazio, zgnječio poput. Lijen si i za to.

    Možeš otrpjeti. Zatim reći: trpio sam, patio
    sam, evo moje istine koju ću vam udijeliti. I

    zatim zašutiš, jer je šutnja dokazana
    dogma o kojoj se može uspješno sporiti.

    Kada u žaru prepirke nekome raspore
    trbuh, kaže se, "stvar je izmakla

    razumu". Zatim se spori o razumu, a pola
    sudionika rasprave umre od dosade.

    Pokopaju ih izvan groblja, kao. Znaš koga. Bez
    ceremonija. S ožalošćenima odjevenim

    u halje od neprozirne šutnje. Sa ciničnim
    cvjetovima u zapučku. Flasterom na

    ustima i nogama. Neravnom zemljom ispod
    sebe o koju se stalno spotiču i nestaju kao

    u Argentini. Tko se vrati, užasno je ciničan
    jer je pojeo sve cvjetove iz zapučaka

    svojih nestalih prijatelja. Koji pak nisu
    prijatelji jer šute, iako su nestali. Pa nisu

    mrtvi da ne mogu govoriti. Dakle, obvezni
    su govoriti, izreći istinu. Nema isprike.

    Osim možda one koju im ti daruješ.
    Darežljiv si kad poklanjaš šutnju.

    Njome možete slobodno raspolagati, kažeš,
    riječi ionako nisu za vas, ja sam im

    jedini tvorac i vlasnik. Ja sam zapisan u vašim
    pismima i ja sam sve ono što priželjkujete.

    U meni započinje i svršava vaša ljubav. U
    započinje i svršava govor. Nitko drugi

    više neće moći ništa reći jer nisu ja.
    Ja sam vi, sitan drobež bez mog udjela.

    Svjetiljka koja se njiše unutar leda
    i obasjava ljubav riba.... more »

  • Early in the morning a naked woman kneels on the kitchen floor praying

    Early in the morning a naked woman kneels on the kitchen floor praying.
    The smoke from the heating plant rises steadily.
    A soprano from Schnittke's madrigal interferes with the voice of the potato vendor coming from the street.
    The chill descends to the root of a plant... more »

  • IT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN TO INDIANS

    The ground - still wet from the afternoon shower. Each little grass-blade
    persistently returns the raindrops to the sky.
    Having overheard this harmless dialogue, we failed to notice
    the nightfall - suddenly it was there, between two cups of tea.... more »

  • JEDINI SI KOME

    JEDINI SI KOME svaki dan
    propadne i nestane.

    Da je barem tako, pomisli samo,
    nitko drugi ne bi sjeo za ispražnjeni stol i zaplakao.

    Vidi (kaže): Ovdje nema ničega.
    Za sve što će doći već sada vrijedi otići spavati.

    Spava mi se zaista,
    bez objašnjenja, kaže

    taj Portugalac.
    (A ti potom pjevaj

    s one strane, u društvu
    šepavih i mutavih.)... more »

  • KROZ ZRAK ŠIŠTE

    KROZ ZRAK ŠIŠTE svjetlucava
    bića: plova riba, jato ptica, roj mušica -

    otkidaju me od težine hodanja,
    otkidaju me od prisile disanja.

    Jesi li ih vidio?
    Znaš, otvoriš li prozor i, ako si sretan,

    ugledat ćeš ih. Ne,
    ništa nisam vidio.

    Jesi li otvorio prozor? Jesam.
    Znači, prozor imaš. Da.

    Pa kako ih onda nisi
    vidio. Jesi

    li slijep? Nisam. Jesi
    li sretan? Ne

    mogu odgovoriti. Ne
    možeš odgovoriti? Da.... more »

  • My tongue falls out of my mouth

    my tongue falls out of my mouth
    it is no longer a tongue, it is a huge calf's liver
    of the calf we slaughtered yesterday... more »

  • NEŠTO SE KRASNO DOGAĐA

    NEŠTO SE KRASNO DOGAĐA:
    zlo je kratko poput zvuka.

    snijeg se odrekao bjeline,
    dodir tijela.

    a da bi tijelo umrljano
    krvlju ponovno bilo

    bijelo, odrekli smo se
    mjerenja & uvjerenja:

    priuštili smo si radost
    sljepoće, gluhoće & nijemosti.

    u novostvorenoj lakoći stvari
    odskakuju i ne vraćaju se.... more »

  • THE BOAT WAS PACKED FULL

    THE BOAT WAS PACKED FULL,
    the coast deserted, soon to be lost from sight.

    We were rowing for hours,
    we were departing and arriving.

    It was a useless job,
    it seemed that time stood still.

    Yet, we sailed into
    the heart of a new land.

    And someone has
    already been there:

    a boat brimming with blood,
    bobbing in the dead calm of the sea.... more »

  • THE READER OF THE TOUCH was fired

    THE READER OF THE TOUCH was fired.
    Actually, he forgot his own language.

    For there where the touch was
    now a merciless clutch coils,

    python-like, crawling in the bed and stammering
    instead of talking, strangling instead of caressing.

    And the speaker of the body was fired, too.
    Actually, he never really had a job.

    For there where the body mattered,
    words were overflowing,

    caressing instead of strangling,
    talking instead of touching.... more »

  • NOTHING REMAINS. As if under a millstone

    NOTHING REMAINS. As if under a millstone.
    Crushed. Ravaged. Expelled.

    My seed is rowing through the air. I present
    a splendid opportunity to get to know hollowness,

    to see desire and zeal anchored in a dot.
    I feel furious and impotent: why should

    this happen? Lovers shriveled and parched
    like the landscape. Given up to emptiness.

    Their hollow bodies fly over the meadows
    in bloom. There they are regularly reaped

    by a hunter prone to voyeurism. While his
    seed is sprinkled around, the shadows

    of lovers veil his body. He's gone. Ice
    glides along earth and enters breathing.

    Later, water enters bodies.
    A little longer life can be endured. I know.

    I feel to blame for everything. I feel a deep
    grief, a disappointment for not being able

    to do something. Take, for instance, you.
    When you loved me I was indifferent, though. Like

    a river. Indifferent to its banks. Caressing
    them secretly. Declaring nothing. A tacit

    intercourse. Occasional sparks. Then banks
    collapse. All is a lake now. No boundaries. No thrills.

    A triumph of indifference. A muteness of love.
    Where's my bank, says the river, says the lake.

    You've surrounded me from all sides. I can't recognize
    your body any more. What went wrong? Bodies

    are born by night, and die by day. Night people
    don't recognize day people. Thin, icy waters

    flow along borderlines. At daybreak, women
    bend over them and weep. The warmth of their tears

    will make waters passable. Once in a while a beam
    of light twinkles in the eye of a woman. She extends

    her hand and touches her lover's thigh. He begins
    to shiver. Her hand slides inside his body,

    grabs his heart and plucks it out. The cold border
    runs again. The lover shrivels and calls for help.

    In vain. No one will ever come to see him there,
    on the other side. Except for cold bodies

    of other mutilated lovers, left to a growing
    indifference. The training of loneliness.

    Inhaling the remnants of themselves,
    the remnants of their love.

    A way out. Being an imitation
    of love. Impersonate someone's inner life.

    Here they come. A solidarity in mutual defeat.
    Silent caressing and futile

    tapping on the shoulder.
    An immaculate gaze full of longing.

    Hearts unable to beat.... more »

  • On Noise

    Allegedly, God crouches by each newborn child whispering all sorts of tales into his ear, inducing him to scream. The child's silence stands for the defeat of God. However, all is bound to end up in the denial of silence. John Cage set a limit to 4' 33'';... more »

  • PO ŽICI IDE

    PO ŽICI IDE - ptica
    spaljenih krila:

    zimski san:
    vjetar obavijen

    oko tišine:
    idemo tvrdi

    u svojoj upornosti:
    dižemo kamenje

    i ubijamo
    sve čega još

    uvijek ima:
    dok ubijamo -

    ima nade:
    dok ima

    nade -... more »

  • WE CRUMBLE EVEN without you, who are

    God is thinking about me and eating me.
    Tomaž Šalamun
    WE CRUMBLE EVEN without you, who are
    looking at us, overwhelmed with envy.

    You're not sweating, and your blood isn't
    dripping. You're as transparent as

    our smile, granted from you
    to replace hope so that we could

    imagine joy every time we are
    trembling from some misfortune. And you

    would like to suffer, wouldn't you? Your
    hands are too clean, aren't they? It

    would be very nice to get to know
    the mushiness of mud, the heat of blood pouring

    all over the palms, spouting from the hole
    in the forehead. Or, suppose you

    started arguing with my wife? Would
    you stand a chance? I know, you're wordy,

    but what's the use of your words
    when anyone uses them in

    a different way? Please, do admit, you would
    lose the battle with her. She would make no answer,

    and you wouldn't know which of the words you
    could use to drive her out that unbearable silence.

    After all, you haven't managed to drive us out of our pain;
    we're still in there, stuck, having trust in you.

    As usual, we're probably wrong. Has it
    ever worked? No. Actually, during all this time

    you've been eating this world, and you're not
    surfeited with it. You're particularly fond of

    the fresh ones, whose eyes never close and who
    stick out their tongues to you, whose noses

    are jutted out, up to the sky, where they
    tickle your soles. I know, you would like

    best to trample down on them, squash them
    just like. Well, you're too lazy for that, too.

    You can live with it. And say: I've tolerated
    it, suffered pain, here's the truth I'm going to

    bestow upon you. And then you stop speaking,
    for silence is a dogma that can be easily

    argued about. When, in the course of argument,
    someone's belly is slashed, they say: "They lost

    their mind." And the argument about the role of the reason
    resumes till a half of its participants are bored to death.

    Then they are buried outside the cemetery, just like.
    No eulogies. Just the mourning parties dressed

    in the robes of opaque silence. With cynical flowers
    in the lapels. With elastic plasters on

    mouths and legs. With uneven earth under them.
    They stumble all the time and disappear

    as in Argentine. Whoever comes back, becomes
    awfully cynical because he has eaten all the flowers

    from the lapels of his friends. Who are, you see, no
    longer friends because they hold their tongues,

    although they have disappeared. Pardon me, but they're not
    dead, they are able to talk! Well, they are called upon

    to tell the truth. There can't be any excuse for that,
    apart from the excuse you've bestowed upon them.

    You're so generous when you grant us silence.
    It's at your disposal, you say, do whatever you can do.

    Anyway, words are not for you, I'm their sole creator
    and the only owner. I've been written down in your letters

    and I'm everything you yearn for. Your love begins and
    ends in me. So does your speech. No one else will ever

    be able to say anything because they're not me.
    I am you, a heap of crumbles without my share in it.

    I am a lamp swinging inside the ice cube:
    I illumine the love of fish.... more »

  • YOU ARE THE ONLY

    YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE for whom every day
    is ruined and then gone.

    If it could be so, think for a moment,
    no one else would sit down at the vacant table and start crying.

    Look (he says): There is nothing here.
    For all that will come you have to go to bed right now.

    I'm sleepy, really,
    without any reason, says

    that Portuguese man.
    (So, go on singing

    on the other side, in the company
    of the lame and mute.)... more »

  • YOU, WITH YOUR HAIR SWINGING LEFT-RIGHT

    They don't allow me to read on the tram, especially you, with your hair swinging
    left-right.
    You're tossing it onto the page I am reading, splaaash, all the words vanish
    and I have to look up at you.... more »