mudrost sretne sve
slikovnicu otvori... poezija
Kontakt
yeatsforkeats(et)yahoo.com
Prelude in E-Minor (op.28 no. 4)
 
Blog
srijeda, siječanj 6, 2010
Do not corrupt her

 

It was a pleasure watching her lying on the altar

of, once holy and today a famous building,

in a simple, white, knee-long dress.

Nowadays I'm feeling sorry for standing behind a marble pillar

only to watch, hidden by the shadow, her gentle body,

so maiden-like and white, but still crimson in its face.

 

(Left outstretched, and other leg bent in its knee,

with slightly elevated body and her palms backwards, pressuring the stone plate,

as support. With her head reclined - she was.)

 

I would approach her then, maybe, but it was because of her hair.

It was. And it was more than enough.

But, floating as it was(without help of a breeze)

it decided to bury my step

softly singing a refrain to me:

"Do not corrupt me."

 

(Eyes wide open, but still with half-slumbering eyelids,

stopped in my pace, with a hand strecthed upward, leaning to the pillar,

and slightly opened lips, as if I would say a word - I was.)

 

Oh, how bitter became the curse when I grasped

that it was not a weakness in my legs, but legs in the marble.

By passing with her hand over my face

and with her fingers through the ones of my stretched hand,

spellbound, she didn't even noticed that in front of her,

a live man is standing, nowise a sculpture made of stone.

 

(And after numerous years, I'm seeding violets with my free hand

singing to them so they could blossom as beautiful

as when she was here.)

kajsijaizurne @ 00:37 |Komentiraj | Komentari: 2 | Prikaži komentare
četvrtak, studeni 26, 2009
Što je to?
Što je to što ti se dogodilo?
Sve slabije se osjeća miris tvoje kose i zvuk tvoga glasa -
pretpostavljam da se umorio,
oslabljeni povjetarac,
noseći ih svih ovih godina do mene.

Što mi se dogodilo?
Više nemam hrabrosti
ni da čašu iskapim
pri pomisli na kakvo će me jutro dočekati,
ili bolje, kakav ću ja dočekati njega.

Što je to što nam se dogodilo?
Danas, kao i svake godine na ovaj dan,
pokušavao sam ući
gurajući ključ u bravu tvojih vrata, tvoga stana,
a on, kao i svake godine, nije pristajao.
I opet sam zaspao rasipajući se po vratima i podu,
i opet sam bio sretan što sam ti tako blizu,
još sretniji što ne može bliže.
Probudilo me otvaranje vrata i figura
koju nisam viđao prijašnjih godina.
Ogroman, znojan, mišićav lik koji je psovao
skidajući sve svece sa nebesa,
čas njuškom uperenom u mene,
čas unazad, prema stanu.
Bijesan
(što mi je uzeo ovaj jedan jedini
dan u godini kad me primaš k sebi
i bdiješ nada mnom,
ne prepoznajući me,
misleći da sam kojekakav nesretnik
što ga je život udesio),
ustao sam i sa životinjskim krikom
krenuo šakama na njega,
no bio je brži.
Konačno sam utonuo u san slušajući tužan plač
u pozadini tvoga stana.

Što je to što nam se nikada nije dogodilo...,
a trebalo je?

rujan 27, 2009
kajsijaizurne @ 13:13 |Komentiraj | Komentari: 2 | Prikaži komentare