Stipe Grgas
inglés
Uspon
Iznenada planina, visoka,
bijela od snijega,
ispred mene.
Gledam je, a ona kaže: penji se!
I ja se penjem.
Skupljam snijeg.
Pahulje glasa poklanjam bjelini.
U svakom pokretu raste
nijema zavjesa neba.
Kada, napokon, dospijem do vrha,
legnem na nj da se odmorim
i poklonim kruni neba.
No, planina mi ne da mira, kaže:
u tebi sam se zaboravila,
sada si ti planina.
I munjevito se zamota,
pobjegne u zemlju,
u zrnce prašine.
Začuđen, ostanem visjeti u zraku
kao kakva zvijezda u kazalištu lutaka.
Producción de Audio: Tomislav Krevzelj, Udruga radio mreza 2011
The Rise
Suddenly the mountain, high,
white with snow,
in front of me.
I look at it and it says: climb!
And I climb.
Collect snow.
Flakes of voice I gift to the whiteness.
The mute curtain of the sky grows
in each movement.
When, finally, I reach the top,
I lie on it to rest
and bow before the crown of the sky.
But the mountain gives me no peace and says:
in you I’ve lost myself,
now you are the mountain.
And as fast as lightning folds itself in,
flees into the earth,
into a grain of dust.
Amazed, I remain hanging in air
as some kind of star in a puppet theatre.