Stipe Grgas
inglés
[Ustajem u 5]
Ustajem u 5
i legnem prije toga
broja.
To možda nije dovoljno
za jednu povijest.
Ustajem u 5
i tražim prije toga
broja – ispod stola
u mlakoj vodi,
između tri vilice –
ta će radost biti
jutro – ta će radost
biti zlatna žličica
– ona nije Jerzy, koja
nije Josip, nije vjeverica,
koja skače u tamnoj
šumi i piše radosne pjesme
za djecu.
Ustajem u 5
i legnem prije toga broja –
to nije lijep rukopis
za Novu godinu ili jesen,
bakarsku vodu, u Varićakovoj,
nad mojom sobom, nadvija se
bijela stijena Krka, muškarac i
žena s košarom na leđima, između
smokava, maslina i bure –
skoro su na vrhu slova A.
(Koje kao što znamo...)
Jerzy, Jerzy, skoči vjeverica
i ugasi svijeću
nad dubokom
vodom Dunava.
[I get up at 5]
I get up at 5
and am in bed before
that number.
That it may be is not enough
for a history.
I get up at 5
and seek before that
number-under the table
in the tepid water,
between three forks -
that joy will be
morning - that joy will be
a golden spoon
- it is not Jerzy, who
is not Josip, is not a squirrel,
which jumps in the dark
wood and writes joyous poems
for children.
I get up at 5
and am in bed before that number -
that’s not fine handwriting
for New Year or for autumn,
for a bottle of champagne, in Vari}akova street,
over my room, looms
the white stone of Krk, a man
and a woman with a creel on her back, between
fig trees, olives and the northerner -
they’re almost at the top of letter A.
(Which as we know ...)
Jerzy, Jerzy, the squirrel jumps
and blows out the candle
over the deep
water of the Danube.