PESMA IZA BRDA

Majka je najlepša
u dvorištu kraj bunara.
Kapi se prospu iz vedra
i dodu za njom u kuću.
Nad stolom – duga.
Od jedne šare spravlja se supa.
Pokraj činije – još dve dugine boje:
Rumeno pečenje i čokanj!
Otac nedeljom čisti pištolj,
Sinoć je bio na piru.
Miriše veselje iz oprljene cevi.
Neko će lupnuti o prozor
i brzo nestati.
Tad mi se javlja glas.
Sa zalogajem u grlu odlazim u voćnjak.
Rano me cveće nadahnjuje
na razgovor sa nepoznatim.
Sve traje dok ne utihne pesma iza brda.
Tad celu kuću obore snovi
i kroz mali vek
liznu pozivi na život.

A SONG FROM BEYOND THE HILL

Mother is most beautiful
in the garden over by the well.
Drops splashing from the pitcher
follow her into the house.
Over the dining table - a rainbow.
The soup made of its stripe.
By the bowl- two other colors of the rainbow:
Reddish roast and a corncob!
Father cleans his pistol on Sundays
Last night he was at a banquet.
From the sooty barrel a scent of festivity.
Someone will knock on the window
and quickly disappear.
At that moment I hear a voice.
with a mouthful down my throat I go to the orchard.
The early flowers inspire me
to speak with the unknown.
It goes on till the song beyond the hill subsides.
Then dreams take over the entire house
and through a small century
in flows a summons to life.

ZNACI

O ljubavi dugo nisam pevao.
Doticale su me koještarije,
islužene gluposti sveta.
Jednom sam hramao kroz žito
i razumeo qubav.
Vetar savijao danjinu,
a pšenica strizala.
Drugi sam put voleo ženu
koju je izdao drugi.
Namučio sam se da progovori.
Kad se ispovedila – nestala.
Sad znam da negde tuguje.
Bio sam čas u njoj,
čas u sebi.
Ti prelasci su me zamorili
i otresli kao kišu sa rukava.

SIGNS

Long have I not written of love,
having been moved by nonsense,
the worn out trifles of the world.
Once limping through a corn field
I understood love.
Wind bending the horizon
and the corn bristling.
The second time I’ve loved
a woman betrayed by another.
I strained myself to get her talking.
Once she opened her heart – she was gone.
Now I know somewhere she sorrows.
At moments I was with her,
at moments with myself.
Those transitions made me weary
and shook me off like raindrops from a sleeve.

TIŠINA

Ubijaju me
razgovori o kolicinama.
Na nuli sam sazidao sve.
Sad putujem kroz carstvo
u kojem je jezik pandan životu.
Nalazim se u tački
gde vršak pera dotiče beskraj.
Tu se odmara vuk
i pretvara u rosu,
a jezero pada s planine.
Dečak je to video maternjim očima
i zato mu veruju svi.

SILENCE

They’re killing me;
the talks of quantities.
I’ve built all from nothing.
Now I journey across the kingdom
in which tongue is match to life.
At a point I am
where the tip of a pen touches infinity.
There the wolf rests
and turns into dew,
and a lake drops from a mountain.
The boy has seen it, his eyes are true
and so he’s believed by all.

SVETLOST I ZVUCI

U prolećna podneva
svetlost je najčistija
na jajetu koje kokoš
snese kraj bunara.
Možeš na njemu da se ogledaš,
a nos nekako veliki.
Sliku popraviš nad vodom u čatrnji.
Preko su vrbak i planina u suncu.
Treba mi bar brzina zvuka
da sve što vidim i opipam.
U julu reka puna kupaca.
Cika me naježi kao stara muzika.
I daje snagu da plivam.
Levom pa desnom mršav preko vode.
Iz vira noću izađe som
i popase livadu.

THE LIGHT AND SOUNDS

In spring noons
the clearest light is
the one on the newly
hatched egg by the well.
In it you can see your reflection
and your big nose too.
Improve this image above the water
kept in a plate.
Willow trees and mountain in the sun
are just across from you.
I should have the speed of sound at least
to touch everything I see.
The river is full of swimmers in July
and their shouts nostalgic feelings
like the old songs.
And that gives me the strength
to swim across
waving by my thin arms
left and right
across the water.
And when the night comes
a huge fish will come out of a whirlpool
and eat up the meadow.

OLOVKA

Olovka je kao žena.
Prestali smo se
dogovarati
o svemu što je ručak
i potreba.
Lažemo se
i trošimo
pred spavanje.
Po nekoji put
klizim s postelje
niz papir!

A PENCIL.

A pencil is like a woman.
We stopped talking about
our lunch
and our needs.
We lie each other,
we spend each other
before we go to sleep.
From time to time
I slide from my bed
down the paper.