Stipe Grgas
inglés
JOB
Branko Čegec: Stanje stvari
on, hrvatski pjesnik,
ulazi u sobu i pažljivo zateže
ljepljivu vrpcu na prozore,
prvo križ, zatim pravilne četvrtine,
sunce se u svijetlećim strelicama
prelama, on provjerava rubove i
čvrsto ih steže
ulazi njegova žena, pruža mirno
nogu ispred noge, lijepo je da nismo
morali danas ići dolje, ne usuđuje se
pitati je kako se na engleskom kaže
sklonište. mrtvi mrak sobe pokriva
postelju. on bi joj htio reći spavaj,
ali boji se, na drugoj su strani njezine
uperene oči
sve što imam stekla sam gledajući,
a sad je zamračenje
htio je pisati pjesme gdje bi imena
zvučala kao hot dog u ustima crnkinje
. . .
koje nas dodiruje iz sve
dubine tvoga nebeskog mraka
bože, konačno mir.
gdje je taj svijet. povuci prste
iz tih rana, nevjerni Toma.
mrak.
JOB
Branko Čegec: The state of Things
he, the Croatian poet,
enters the room and carefully stretches
the adhesive tape onto the windows,
first the cross, then the orderly squares,
sunlight breaks into shining
arrows, he checks the edges
and makes them tight
his wife enters, puts one quiet foot
in front of another, it’s good we didn’t
have to go below today, he doesn’t
dare to ask the english word for
bomb shelter. the dead dark of the room covers
the bed. he’d like to tell her sleep,
but is afraid, on the other side are her
leveled eyes
all i have i’ve got by looking,
and now its blackout
he wanted to write poems in which names
would resound like hot dogs in the mouth of a black woman
....
which touches us from the full
depth of your heavenly darkness
god, peace at last.
where is that world. pull out your fingers
from those wounds, incredulous Tom.
dark.