Damir Šodan
angleščina
Tijelo
Otok nas je proždirao iznutra,
cvilio i strugao po žilama i živcima
poput fantomskog gusarskog jedra.
Sjedeći nasred ceste u kukuljici od paučine,
ti rađala si mrtvo dijete,
bez razuma zapomagala tuđim glasom.
Krv ti se slijevala po bedrima,
topila kamenje i mrave
i začas bila si samo izbočina,
strano tijelo u čistoj prašini.
Bio sam mrtav na tren, bio sam ništa,
kao što to tijelo može biti,
i teški su bili krici,
mrvili još tople bubnjiće,
kosti i kožu u ničiju kašu.
Bio sam tvoj u trenu, bio sam ništa,
kao što tijela to mogu.
Moram li još išta priznati?
Svijet ima onoliko svjetova
koliko je smrti, koliko je
zračnih džepova u zemlji
od istrunulih rođenja.
Nama više ne treba ni jedan.
Iz: Nepravilnosti
V.B.Z. Zagreb, 2007
Body
The island kept eating at us from inside,
moaning and grinding at our veins and nerves,
like some phantom pirate's sail.
Sitting amid the road in a cobweb cocoon
you gave birth to a stillborn
crying madly in somebody else's voice.
Blood was dripping down your thighs,
melting stones and ants
and in no time you were a mere bump on the road,
a strange body in clear dust.
I died for a moment reducing myself to nothing
as only a body can, but those cries,
oh how they were hard.
Shattering our still warm eardrums,
our bones and skins into nobody's mush.
And in a second I was yours, reduced to nothing,
as only bodies can be.
Must I confess anything else?
The world contains as many worlds as deaths,
as many air pockets in the earth
conceived by rotten births.
We don't need another one.