Charles Simic
inglés
BIĆU OPAK BABAC
Vidim biću opak babac,
Mršava kao pljoska
Kao i sad što sam.
Ne od onih debelguzih
Što valjaju za sobom zadnjice,
Kako veli Selin.
Ne od onih dobroćudnih baba-tetaka
Uz čije je meke i punačke mišice
Lepo prisloniti obraz.
Više nalik onim strašilima za ptice
U našim baštama
Punim rumenih paradajza
Kao dečijih obraza.
Ima takvih bakutanera
Živahnih i ljutih kao osice
Sa očima navrh čela,
Sve vide, sve čuju, i imaju primedbe –
Gunđala od rođenja.
Zvocaću i torokaću povazdan.
Kokodakaću kao kvočka pilićima
O vremenima kada bejah
Mlada i zgodna cura,
I kada momke vrteh oko malog prsta.
Ždrepce i pastuve dok krotih
Sevom oka, sevom suknje.
Prećutkujući sva neverstava
I sve jade,
Kao izgubljene bitke general.
Kao bapcu sve će mi biti dozvoljeno.
Da igram bridž i da plešem
Okretne igre moga doba.
Okretaću se i saplitati
O sopstvene štapičaste noge,
Udenute u trup kao čačkalice u ćevap.
Bakutaner i po!
Klicaće i aplaudiraće mi,
Mladi pametnjakovići skupljeni oko mene.
Bakuta kao reš kifla sa susamom –
Takva ću biti,
Svakom zapadaću za zube, kao i ranije.
Dok sa velikim šeširom i haljinom do poda
Budem šetala po predelima bivšeg života,
Mirišući žutilovku, diveći se vresu,
O svaki čičak zakačinjući podsuknju-dušu.
Producción de Audio: Drugi program Radio Beograda / PEN centar Srbije
I’LL BE A WICKED OLD WOMAN
I'll be a wicked old woman
Thin as a rail,
The way I am now.
Not one of those big-assed ones
With buttocks churning behind them,
As Celine said.
Not one of the good-natured grandmas and aunties
Against whose soft and plump arms
It is nice to lay one's cheek.
I'm more like a scarecrow
In our gardens full of rosy tomatoes
Like children's cheeks.
There are some old crones
Who are both vivacious and angry as a bee
With eyes on top of their heads
Who see everything, hear everything and have an opinion-
Grumblers since birth.
I'll squawk and chatter all day,
Cackle like a hen over her chicks
About the days when I was
A young, good-looking girl,
When I led boys by the nose.
Colts and stallions I tamed
With the flash in my eye, the flash of my skirt.
Passing over infidelities and miseries
The way a general passes over his lost battles.
I'll be free to do anything as an old woman,
Among things I still can and want to do
Like playing bridge or dancing
The light-footed dances of my days.
I'll spin and trip on my sticklike legs,
Attached to my body like toothpicks to a kabob.
That old hag sure can boogie!
The young smarties gathered around me
Will shout and applaud.
An old woman like a well-baked bun with sesame seeds,
That's what I'm going to be like.
I'll stick between everyone's teeth, as I did before,
While with a wide hat and dresses down to the ground
I stroll through landscapes of my past life.
Smelling the furze, admiring the heather,
On every thistle catching my undergarment—my soul.