Goran Čolakhodžić
Translator
on Lyrikline: 6 poems translated
from: хорватский to: английский, румынский
Original
Translation
Lov
хорватский | Goran Čolakhodžić
Lovio sam zečeve
obilno i nečujno:
nišan je ubijao, nije bilo pucnja,
krznene su vreće padale bez odgode
na suhu travu sumraka. Ostajali su
kruti, otvorenih očiju, bez kapi krvi
na stegnutim ranama, zapravo smiješni,
neopasni u toj smrti koja nije
preotela život, pa je bila prozirna.
Meni nije nestajalo metaka,
a ni njima smrti: stalno su je producirali
po humcima i jarcima.
Spušta se jesen, bit će da je to.
from: Na kraju taj vrt
Zagreb: Jesenski i Turk, 2015
Audio production: Croatian P.E.N. Centre
Hunt
английский
I hunted hares
abundantly and inaudibly:
the crosshair killed, no shots were fired,
furry bags fell promptly down
on the parched grass in the dusk. They remained
stiff, eyes open, with not a drop of blood
on their clenched wounds: in fact, ridiculous,
innocuous in their death which had not
taken over life, and so was see-through.
I did not run out of bullets,
and neither did they of death: they produced it constantly
in ditches and on mounds.
Autumn is falling, it’ll be that.
Ministarstvo obrane
хорватский | Goran Čolakhodžić
Tko je venuo za cijelim
nikada nije došao do sreće
Živjeti jutros: čekati priču
a samo rečenice držati za vlasi
Stvari su veće od naše mutne sreće
duže od privida vječne prisutnosti
jače od veze od svijesti do svijesti
Za razliku od lijeske
na platanu se ne može popeti:
ljuske se odvajaju i padaš
na prepukli asfalt pred ministarstvom
Parada tenkova
zapravo ničime ne mijenja prostor
a najmanje vrijeme
U cijevi je budućnost
i nekoliko prošlosti mesa –
pod čelikom čuči
povratak na početak
i kraj
Povijest se dijeli prolaskom brigada
od njihova marša
ne možemo preko
from: Pred gradom su kosci
Zagreb: Hrvatsko društvo pisaca, 2018
Audio production: Croatian P.E.N. Centre
Ministry of Defence
английский
Whoever yearned for wholeness
was never satisfied
To be alive this morning: to be waiting for a story
yet to grip mere sentences by the hair
Things are bigger than our vague happiness
more constant than the illusion of eternal presence
stronger than the links between this consciousness and the next
Unlike a hazel bush
you cannot climb a plane tree:
bark flakes off and you fall
down on the cracked asphalt in front of the Ministry
A parade of tanks in fact
does not change space in any way
still less time
In the barrel of the gun lies the future
and the manifold past of the flesh –
under the steel there lurks
a return to the beginning
and the end
History is divided by the passage of brigades
Because of their march we
cannot get across
S balkona u šumi
хорватский | Goran Čolakhodžić
U Versaillesu svijetli metal
moderne Europe
udara i pjeva miru u čast:
smanjen na sjenku, Veliki rat
priziva proljeće, makove, mise.
Pod kestenima, u sivilu malo
rasvijetljenom Francuskom, shvaćamo
koliko program sadrži junaka,
barem dva-tri marša
više nego tužaljki.
Orkestar od čelika sa sumnjivom slasti
izvodi svaki pasaž marziale. Polako
se okrećem na jug:
nad vrhovima granja munje ranog ljeta.
Kasnije, pred ponoć, po rubu kontinenta
sedam gluhih lijevaka od vatre. Iznad
rosne trave, spori mjehuri
rasvjetnih raketa. Zatim dugi snopovi
noćnih projektila, kao štektanje
ruleta.
Između brojeva, crvenih, crnih,
najmanje je ono zeleno ništa
na koje u ovom krugu
ne igra nitko.
Audio production: Croatian P.E.N. Centre
From a balcony in the forest
английский
In Versailles the shiny metal
of contemporary Europe
clangs and sings to honour peace:
shrunken to a shadow, the Great War
evokes spring, poppies, mass.
Under the chestnuts, in a dullness slightly
dispelled by the sheer fact of France, suddenly we realize
how many heroes there are on the programme,
at least two or three marches more
than the elegies.
An orchestra of steel that with dubious gusto
plays every passage marziale. Slowly,
we turn south: above the treetops the heat-
lightning of summer.
Later, at midnight, round the edge of the continent,
seven silent funnels of fire. Above
the dewy grass slowly rise the bubbles
of anti-aircraft flares. Then the long jets
of nightly projectiles, like the clicking
of a roulette.
Of all the numbers, red and black,
the least is that green nothing
that in this round
no one has bet on.
Sve polako
хорватский | Goran Čolakhodžić
U svibnju smokva cvate u granama,
ispod kore. Prvi od nizova zelenih pupaka
dolazi, dakle, na red.
Mogu se brojati
godine unaprijed, sve dolje do korijena.
Smokvino drvo je prepuno budućih rujnova
kao kundak stare puške metaka: teška zrna
izlijeću i praskaju tamna, zabijajući pticama
perje i cvrkut i sreću u prsa.
U još neprobušenim trbusima,
svaka smokva nosi kukca po izboru.
U jednoj je zapretan pauk,
u drugoj je mala i prugasta osa koja se godinu-dvije
još neće probuditi; ponegdje grupica mrava
nalik na sjemenke maka. U slatkom snu
mrmljaju, meškolje se i rastu.
Sve se to lagano podiže gore,
k suncu i sjeni neumitnih jeseni.
Audio production: Croatian P.E.N. Centre
Everything in time
английский
In May the fig tree blooms inside its branches,
under the bark. The first row of green belly-buttons
comes, therefore, up front.
You can count
the years in advance, all the way down to the roots.
The fig’s wood is full of future Septembers
like the butt of an old gun: heavy bullets
fly out and darkly burst, driving feathers, chirping, and mirth
back into the chests of birds.
In its still unpunctured belly
each fig carries a bug of its choice.
In one of them a spider is hidden,
in another a tiny, stripy wasp that will not wake up
for a year or two more; in some there are groups of ants
much like poppy seeds. In their sweet sleep
they mutter, shift and grow.
All of this slowly rises up
to meet the sun and the shade of imminent autumns.
*** [Imam nešto neriješeno s gradom]
хорватский | Goran Čolakhodžić
Imam nešto neriješeno s gradom,
odnosno, mislim da danju nismo u stanju
reći si sve. Nadoknadim, hoću
ili neću, noću, kad mi se primaknu živice
i brda se počnu kotrljati pod nogama.
Bude tu podosta prilaza ulica volti arkada
bude i podosta bronce, zelene od vlažnog mraka
u rijetko košenim parkovima.
Stalno me šalje od pročelja do pročelja
nezgodno vezanim linijama tramvaja
i često sasvim neznanim jezicima
ispisuje nazive zgrada i trgova.
Valja me po pločnicima, dobacuje haustorima,
krijući ipak unutarnja dvorišta –
dokaz da on može sanjati lucidno, ako već ja
bauljam kud moram kroz hodnike i pothodnike.
I onda me ujutro tjera u smijeh
i u podsmijeh, jer znam da se hvalisavo množi
u meni cijele noći, zamazuje mi oči, trubi propagandu,
trudeći se napraviti većim crnjim dubljim
graditi se beskonačan, uzalud u privid.
from: Na kraju taj vrt
Zagreb: Jesenski i Turk, 2015
Audio production: Croatian P.E.N. Centre
[I have an unsolved issue with the city]
английский
I have an unsolved issue with the city,
that is, I think that during the day we’re unable
to tell each other everything. I make up for it, willy
or nilly, at night, when the hedges draw closer
and the hills start rolling beneath my feet.
There’s usually a lot of drives streets vaults arcades
also a lot of bronze, made green by the wet darkness
in the rarely mown parks.
It keeps sending me on errands from façade to façade
by inconveniently connected tram lines
and often it spells out the names of buildings and squares
in completely arcane languages.
It rolls me down sidewalks, chucks me over to entrances,
hiding, nonetheless, its inner courtyards –
the proof that it can dream lucidly, if I
clamber where I have to through passages and underpasses.
And then in the morning it makes me laugh
and deride, because I know that it multiplies braggingly
in me all night, pulling wool over my eyes, blaring propaganda,
trying to appear larger blacker deeper
to build itself endlessly, illusively, in vain.
Ugasiti hrast
хорватский | Marija Dejanović
Nismo takve da propustimo
spomenuti uzore: djevojčica baca
sve osim pepela u šahtu. Ne znamo
što ćemo s tim
roletama od lisičjeg bijega
napetim između dva stakla.
Propustit ćemo sunce ili nećemo?
Počne li kiša,
propustit ćemo odlazak na pogreb
kao što su onog dana propustili
ugasiti stari hrast
jer se priroda može sama brinuti o sebi.
Postavit ću previše pitanja.
Nemoj mi čestitati rođendan,
ni tebi tvoja majka nije brojala zube
pa si ispala sasvim u redu, nisi li,
nije li ispalo sasvim u redu
brojati zrna graha
umjesto uzastopnih odlazaka sunca?
from: Etika kruha i konja
Zagreb: SKUD IGK, 2018
Să stingi stejarul
румынский
Nu suntem dintre cei care ar uita
să-şi menţioneze modelele: fetiţa aruncă
totul în canal, mai puţin cenuşa. Nu ştim
ce să facem
cu rulourile din fuga vulpilor
întinse între două geamuri.
Lăsăm soarele să intre sau nu?
Dacă începe ploaia,
vom uita de plecarea la înmormântare
aşa cum în acea zi au uitat
să stingă bătrânul stejar
pentru că natura poate să-şi poarte singură de grijă.
Voi pune prea multe întrebări.
Să nu-mi serbezi ziua de naştere,
nici ţie nu ţi-a numărat maică-ta dinţii
şi eşti totuşi în regulă, nu-i aşa,
nu-i aşa că a ieşit destul de bine
număratul boabelor de fasole
în locul repetatelor apusuri de soare?