Spavači teškog sna

Jedva da išta bi moglo pokrenut se s točke rubom
sablasne zemlje koju vrijeme preorava zubom.
Izgubili svoje smo mjesto u sedmome nebu: par tuka
šopanih, debelih, sviklih na krmu od kadulje, luka.

K'o kad se miševi bijeli vide, u nogama gubi
baš svaki osjet. K'o kada se smanji vidno polje,
na okrajke svede, a govor skrati, na svaštice srubi.
U mori je moguće sve: nedostaje odluke, volje.

Padaju licem idoli i mramorni sveci u travu.
Tek pravi spavači znaju što znači spavat sa sjenom,
vlastitom sjenom što diže k'o stećak se njima nad glavu.

Pasatni vjetrovi stali: cimbala s olujnom trubom.
Teško da išta bi moglo pokrenut se s točke rubom
sablasne zemlje koju vrijeme preorava zubom.

© Sibila Petlevski
Aus: Koreografija patnje
Zagreb: Konzor, 2002
Audioproduktion: David Gazarov, 2008

Heavy Sleepers

It’s hard to imagine anything could happen

on a piece of ghost land furrowed by old age.

We have lost our place in the seventh heaven

like stuffed ducks reconciled to onions and sage.


It’s like seeing snakes. It’s like losing all sensation

in your legs. It’s like having your field of vision

reduced to bits and snippets, snatches of conversation.

Everything is possible in a bad dream: we lack decision.


One by one, wooden idols, marble saints are falling prone.

Only heavy sleepers know what it means to sleep

with your shadow set up over your head like a stone.


Trade winds stopped. Storms ceased to rage.

It’s hard to imagine anything could happen

on a piece of ghost land furrowed by old age.

Written in English