Infinitiv

Kad se stvari pomaknu,
ostanu samo sjene.
Šutnja iz prinude,
hladan zrak.
Rekao sam ti da sam ruža, dašak noći
što dopire do nosnica.
Rekao sam: stvari, dobro usklađeni
odnosi. Rekao sam: sjene,
višak ljubavi koja nekoć
bijaše tek nepoznata žudnja.
Mali, nedodirljivi plamenovi
dotiču moje srce – bez prestanka,
bez jasnog razloga.
Kao opala latica, kao netko zagledan
u krijesnicu mirisne lipanjske noći,
kao nečujna praznina iza čvrsto
stisnutih usana.
U vlažnom pogledu
to se uljuljkuju naši slabo prikriveni
dokazi,
naše jedva još nade,
jedva prešutne izdaje.
Blaženi dodiri koji su sada tek
puko trajanje.
Među sjenama skrivaju se druge sjene.
Pomak će lako iznuditi drugi pomak.
Ja sam šutnja:
skrivena slova oblažu moje čelo.

© Zvonko Maković
From: Prah
Audio production: 2006, Literaturwerkstatt Berlin

The Infinitive

When things are shifted,
only shadows remain.
Enforced silence,
cold air.
I told you I was a rose, a whiff of night
reaching the nostrils.
I said: things, well coordinated
relationships. I said: shadows,
the excess of love that once
was only an unknown desire.
Small, untouchable flames
touch my heart - incessantly,
with no distinct reason.
Like a fallen petal, like someone
staring at a glow-worm on a fragrant June night,
like an inaudible emptiness
behind tightly shut
lips.
There in that wet gaze
our poorly concealed evidence
lies dormant,
our meager hopes,
hardly tacit betrayals.
Blessed touches that are now
a sheer passage of time.
Other shadows hide among shadows.
A shift will easily trigger another shift..
I am the silence:
hidden letters cover my forehead.

Translated by Mario Suško