Miroslav Kirin
inglés
INDIJCIMA SE TO NE BI DOGODILO
Tlo - još vlažno od popodnevnog pljuska. Svaka travka nebu uporno vraća
kišu. I u tom, bezazlenom dijalogu,
večer nismo ni zamijetili – odjednom je bila tu, između dva nadolijevanja
čaja.
Naoblaka se bila raskinula – pozvao sam te da promatramo zvijezde.
Malo znamo o njima, no to neće umanjiti užitak promatranja.
Poslije nastavljamo piti čaj na terasi.
Na podu – kao prazni kožnati novčanik, zgažena žabica. Čini se da sam je donio
na potplatu sandale. Ništa nisam čuo (kao da smrt živog bića mora biti čujna.)
Indijcima se to ne bi dogodilo, kažeš, oni hodaju
bosi iz obzira prema sitnim bićima.
Neću više hodati noćnim vrtom.
Napiši mi pjesmu o tome, još kažeš, potaknuta čitanjem
starih kineskih pjesnika.
No kako, iz obzira prema kineskim pjesnicima,
napisati pjesmu o zgaženoj žabici?
De: Zbiljka
Zagreb: Vuković & Runjić, 2009
Producción de Audio: Tomislav Krevzelj, Udruga radio mreza 2011
IT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN TO INDIANS
The ground – still wet from the afternoon shower. Each little grass-blade
persistently returns the raindrops to the sky.
Having overheard this harmless dialogue, we failed to notice
the nightfall - suddenly it was there, between two cups of tea.
The clouds cleared up and I invited you to go out and watch the stars with
me.
Little do we know about them but it won’t diminish the pleasure of watching
them.
Later on we resume drinking tea on the porch.
On the floor – like an empty wallet, a crushed frog. Seems I brought it
on the sticky sole of my sandal. Didn’t hear a thing (as if the death of a live
being ought to be audible).
It would never happen to Indians, you say, they walk
barefoot out of respect for tiny beings.
I will never walk the night garden again, I decide.
Why don’t you write a poem about it, you add having finished reading
a collection of ancient Chinese poetry.
But the thing is, how to write a poem about a crushed frog
out of respect for Chinese poets?