Tomica Bajsić

hrvaščina

Damir Šodan

angleščina

KARDINAL KUHARIĆ NA TELEFONU 9827

Badnja večer je
i banda pijanaca degustira šipone i
silvance u ilegalnoj vinariji na groblju
pune se plastične i staklene flaše svih dimenzija
i auti se zalijeću preko rubova ulica
večeras kada šume staklene kosti staraca
u crkvi je propuh jer netko je ostavio
vrata otvorena
babe se opravdano ljute
broji se tko je zapalio više lampica
i ja bih isto da sam star
palio lampice i pravio se
lud
govori se da je ta predblagdanska
potrošačka groznica
uvezena s materijalističkog zapada
i da se gubi smisao
onog svetog dana kada se riječ utjelovila
a meni se čini da je najgore prošla perad
koja je redom ostala bez glava
prije šest godina hranili su nas
pečenim volovima
a sada nam spremaju masovni spektakl
s besplatnim kobasicama i
estradnim zvijezdama
i Tito nas je hranio
svinjskom glavom koju je
ukrao s tavana
i od toga nas je dugo
bolio trbuh
počinje padati snijeg i ja sam isto
pijan kao i drugi čestiti
Hrvati
naš put u budućnost je
nacionalhumanizam
mrtva
priroda sa svinjskom glavom
faraon
duboko diše u spokoju
svoje zimske palače
razmatra možda opet neku osvetu
a kardinal Kuharić je na telefonu 9827
samo snimljena božićna poruka –
ne odgovara na pitanja.

© Tomica Bajsić
Iz: Južni križ
Goranovo proljeće, 1998
Avdio produkcija: Tomislav Krevzelj, Udruga radio mreza 2011

CARDINAL KUHARIĆ AT 9827

It’s Christmas Eve
and a gang of drunks is tasting bottles of Šipon
and Silvanac at the illegal winery at the cemetery
filling plastic and glass flasks of all sizes
Cars rush over the edges of pavements
Tonight when glassy bones of old men are humming
there’s a draft in the church as someone left
the door open
Grannies are protesting angrily and justifiably so
counting who lit up more of those tiny candles
I would be also lighting tiny candles
and playing dumb
if I were old
They say this pre-holiday shopping frenzy
has been imported from the materialistic West
and that gradually every sense has been lost
of that sacred day when the Word became flesh
but if you ask me it is the poultry that fared the worst
having been decapitated
each and every one of them
Six years ago they fed us ox roast
and now they're staging mass spectacles for us
with free sausages
and cheap pop stars
Tito fed us a pig’s head
that he stole from the attic
and our stomachs ached afterwards
for decades on end
Now it’s starting to snow and I am also drunk
like the other honest
Croats
Our path to the future is called
national-humanism
— still life
with a pig’s head
— while the Pharaoh
breathes deeply
tucked inside his winter palace
perhaps contemplating another revenge
while Cardinal Kuharić is at tel: 9872
— just a recorded Christmas message —
giving no answers.  


(1997.)

Translated by Damir Šodan