Trag ženske kose na licu / The Trace of a Woman’s Hair Across My Face

Bosnian

Čitavu noć se svađamo.
Tek sa jutrom
u krikovima ptica
naše misli
uspijevaju ponovo
uhvatiti svijet.

Jato što kruži,
zbunjeno,
prenosi pokrete noćnih zvijezda u grad.

Kažeš mi da je na svakoj zvijezdi
jedan nestali
što nas sada gleda.

Šiljati kljun udara o prozorsko staklo
u čijem zvuku plavo nebo
vibrira
između nas.

Kopao sam rovove na Poljinama.
Snajper je zapucao.
Bacio sam se na zemlju sa koje se vidjelo Sarajevo.
Preko mene je preletjela sjenka ptice,
dodirnula me je poput ženske kose.
Na mojim grudima
pod bijelom košuljom
povijala se sva mehkota smrti.
Dižem se i pomišljam:

— Sjenka ptice uvijek pada na zemlju kao leden leš koji nas prati.

English Translation

We argue all night.
Only in the morning
with the shrieking of the birds
our thoughts
manage to recapture
the world.

The flock circling overhead,
confused,
bringing the movements of the night stars to the city.

You tell me that upon each star
someone gone
is watching us now.

The pointed beak hits against the windowpane,
in its sound, the blue sky
vibrates
between us

I dug trenches at Poljine.
A sniper started shooting.
I threw myself against the ground from which I could see Sarajevo.
The shadow of a bird flew over me,
touching me like a woman’s hair.
On my chest
beneath my white shirt
all the softness of death writhed.
I get up and think:

— The shadow of the bird always falls to the ground like an icy corpse walking in our wake.

Printed from Cerise Press: http://www.cerisepress.com

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