Monika Herceg

Poetry

1. SECOND-RATE FATHER / DRUGORAZREDNI OTAC

   

   

   ENGHRV

   London fog is a concept I know nothing about

   although I’ve always thought I would travel

   Admit the world into my hairs,

   shave it off and flush the shavings, New York, Brač and Niagara Falls down the drain

   That I would dissect motorways, as cocky as an election campaign,

   bend them up into the tube of my inflexible vulva

    

   But these days I feel like fog with a stern British accent 

   And I weigh as much as all the soilI never bonded with

   Plants are reluctant to bloom near me

   lest I irreversibly infect their seductiveness

   Trees are chary of spitting out shoots

   lest I eat their acrid foetuses

    

   For months I’ve been dancing on Sunday’s edge though I should

   serve it to my family with my marinated eyes and drumsticks

   The truth is I’m lonely and in waiting rooms I adopt 

   every courteous granddad and his old man skin

    

   Poor Persephone, airing your heart chambers avails nothing

   As does soothing yourself with imaginary pomegranate pips I playfully push into my navel

   As if each were a little Pluto, no man’s place in the vacuum

   A sky stripped down to the blue skips in the aorta as if to re-flood the planet

   You know, I sometimes dream of us walking in the park 

   You hold my hand like an excellent father

   You’re so considerate when I dream of you

    

   For six months, Zeus

   For six months you 

   let them strip me and rape me

   in the weightless dark

   Translated by Mirza Purić

   Londonska magla je koncept o kojem ne znam ništa

   iako sam uvijek mislila da ću putovati

   Zaprimati svijet u dlačice,

   depilirati ga i puštati šume, New York, Brač, Niagarine slapove niz odvode

   Da ću samouvjereno kao predizborna kampanja secirati autoceste

   i savijati ih u cijev svoje nerastezljive rodnice

    

   Ali ovih dana osjećam se kao magla strogog britanskog naglaska 

   i težim kao cijela Zemlja koju nisam prisno upoznala

   Biljke se boje rascvasti kraj mene

   jer ću im nepovratno zaraziti zavodljivost

   Stabla se boje pljunuti pupove iz vršaka

   da im ne pojedem kisele zametke

    

   Mjesecima plešem na oštrici nedjelje mada bih je trebala poslužiti

   obitelji uz svoje marinirane oči i batake

   Istina je da sam usamljena i u čekaonicama posvajam 

   svakog uglađenog djeda i njegovu staračku kožu

    

   Jadna Persefona, ništa ne pomaže provjetriti komore srčanog mišića

   Niti tješenje izmišljenim košticama nara kojima se igram gurajući ih u pupak

   kao da su svaka mali Pluton, ničije mjesto u vakuumu

   Nebo oguljeno do plave preskakuje u aorti kao da će ponovno potopiti planet

   Znaš, sanjam nekad da šetamo parkom 

   Držiš me za ruku poput izvrsnog oca 

   Tako si pažljiv kad te sanjam

    

   Šest mjeseci si, Zeuse

   Šest mjeseci puštao

   da me skidaju i siluju 

   u bestežinskom mraku

2. I LEARNT EMMY NOETHER’S THEOREM AT UNI / TEOREM EMMY NOETHER NAUČILA SAM NA FAKSU

   

   

   ENGHRV

   Therefore I may suppose

   that were both sinewy female flesh

   Our features tell us

   every day was a lonely Wednesday

   as symmetrical as the hemispheres of our mind 

    

   Emmy, did maths put bread on the table those seven years

   when men took from your mind

   Without paying, with the excuse

   that there were only numerical values in you,

   An algebra too pedantic, worthless to the long-legged philosophers 

   Today they’d lock you in a computer, label you artificial intelligence 

   give you a coquettish name, Vanda or Irma,

   let you use algorithms  

   to calculate how many bombs to drop on each continent 

   to eliminate the possibility of a nuclear war

    

   I remember when they peeked under your theorem

   in the classical mechanics class

   thinking there was a moustachioed man underneath

   Certainly not a woman’s pears 

   stealing the road from the high heels again

    

   Emmy, the world no longer fits into an equation

   Some women believe that during hunting season it is permitted

   to bring woman to the brink of extinction

   It is then that I feel the cold symmetry of solitude

   and I know, when you cried, your mother, too, 

   stood in front of your room listening

   never opening the door.

   Translated by Mirza Purić

   Pa mogu pretpostaviti

   da smo obje žilavo žensko meso

   Crte lica nam govore

   svaki je dan bio usamljena srijeda

   simetrična kao polutke naše pameti

    

   Emmy, Emmy, je li te hranila matematika tih sedam godina

   kad su muškarci uzimali iz tvog mozga

   Nikad plativši uz izliku

   da u tebi ima samo brojčanih vrijednosti,

   Algebre previše sitničave, bezvrijedne dugonogim filozofima 

   Danas bi te zatvorili u računalo, proglasili umjetnom inteligencijom 

   i nazvali nekim koketnijim imenom,Vanda ili Irma

   pa pustili da algoritme pretvaraš 

   u potreban broj bombi na svakom kontinentu 

   da statistički nikad ne dođe do nukelarnog rata

    

   Sjećam se kad su ti zavirivali pod teorem

   na satovima klasične mehanike

   misleći da je ispod brkato muško

   Sigurno ne kruške žene 

   koje opet kradu potpeticama cestu

    

   Emmy, svijet više ne stane u jednadžbu

   Neke žene vjeruju da je u vrijeme lova dopušteno

   dovesti ženu do ruba izumiranja

   Tad osjetim oštru simetriju samoće

   i znam da je i tvoja majka, kad si plakala,

   stajala pred sobom i priskuškivala

   nikad otvorivši vrata

3. SNAKE DEATHS / ZMIJSKE SMRTI

   

   

   ENGHRV

   my grandmother’s youngest brother

   long lay in the hay face down 

   before they found 

   his young body

    

   when walnuts peeped from their green pouches

   he gathered their wrinkly heads

   broke and ground them nude

   sunday pie smelt 

   of return

    

   at dusk into his nape 

   they put a bullet

   that pulled him down towards

   the centre of the earth

    

   above him a compass rose

   of adders held wake

   quartering the death

   which slept in him

   Translated by Mirza Purić

   najmlađi brat moje bake

   dugo je ležao licem u sijenu

   prije nego su pronašli 

   njegovo mlado truplo

    

   kad su orasi provirili iz zelenih tobolaca

   skupio je njihove naborane glave

   razbio ih i gole samljeo

   nedjeljna gibanica mirisala je 

   na povratak

    

   predvečer mu u potiljak 

   spremiše metak

   koji ga je povukao prema

   središtu zemlje

    

   nad njim su bdjele riđovke 

   kao strane kompasa

   raščetvorivši tako smrt 

   koja je spavala u njemu

4. GROWTH / RAST

   

   

   ENGHRV

   they cut down the trees as if pigs 

   and sometimes it seemed that more blood gushed 

   when an oak’s connection with the soil was severed 

   then when a pig was hung 

   for the remnants of death

   to drip

    

   they chopped the ramified roots into parcels

   in the soil hid diseases

   and noise pollution

    

   we saw

   chimneys stabbing the bellies of clouds

   the city spreading like tuberculosis

   nameless directionless wind

   growth that cannot be fenced in

    

   grandma was a spinster when she married

   the iron works had grown into a complex organism 

   that fed all its children

   its long hundredfold arms

   down which slithered the innards of trains

   unravelling around the world

   Translated by Mirza Purić

   rezali su drveće kao svinje 

   i ponekad se činilo da više krvi isteče 

   kad hrastu prerežu povezanost s tlom 

   nego kad svinju objese 

   da izađe iz nje 

   ostatak smrti

    

   razgranatost korijenja sjekli su u pakete

   skrivajući u tlu bolesti

   i onečišćenje bukom

    

   vidjeli smo 

   dimnjake koji oblacima probijaju trbuhe

   grad koji se širi kao tuberkuloza 

   vjetar bez smjera koji ne znamo imenovati

   rast koji je nemoguće ograditi

    

   kad se baka udala bila je stara cura

   željezara je već izrasla u složeno biće 

   koje je hranilo svu svoju djecu

   a njene dugačke stostruke ruke

   kojima su gmizale utrobe vlakova

   otpetljavale su se širom svijeta

5. TINY DEATHS / SITNE SMRTI

   

   

   ENGHRV

   we breathe loudly in the stifling heat

   as we sleep in the same room

   a sinking feeling heavier than air 

   fills the space like carbon dioxide

   and we suffocate in night terrors

    

   in father’s dreams void spawns

   like beetles spawn on potato

   till they ravage the crop

   every now and then he coughs 

   like a tom retching up 

   a hairball

   brother grinds his teeth

   mother is motionless

   stiff-lipped

   like a picture of the lady she prays to

   I sometimes lean over her face

   to check if she breathes

    

   I listen and

   as we grow out of shoes

   as our hair darkens

   and our cartilage wears down as we run

   an atmosphere burns outside

   and in us burn bodies of children

   like birthday candles

   fast enough

   to forget the next morning

   Translated by Mirza Purić

   glasno dišemo zbog nesnosne sparine

   spavajući u istoj sobi

   tjeskoba je teža od zraka 

   ispuni prostor poput ugljičnog dioksida

   pa se pogušimo u košmaru

    

   u očevom se snu koti praznina

   kao zlatice na krumpiru

   dok u potpunosti ne unište nasade

   svako malo nakašlje se 

   poput mačka koji izbacuje 

   klupko dlaka

   brat škrguće zubima

   majka je nepomična

   stisnutih usnica 

   nalik na sliku gospe kojoj se moli

   nekad se nagnem nad njeno lice

   da provjerim diše li

    

   osluškujem i

   kako prerastamo već tijesne cipele

   kako nam tamni kosa

   i troši se hrskavica dok trčimo

   vani izgara atmosfera 

   a u nama gore dječja tijela

   kao rođendanske svjećice

   dovoljno brzo da se ujutro

   ne sjećamo

6. ESCAPE / BIJEG

   

   

   ENGHRV

   we started locking our room at night when

   we saw granddad’s shadow standing by our bunk with a knife

   he said he could hear steps near the house

   and was keeping an eye lest they drag us into the woods forever

    

   soon after he spoke with the dead

   for the first time

   and escaped by skipping 

   the tall fence round our yard

   that was the neighbours’ account

   four days later we found him

   in the other end of the city 

   hiding in a ditch

    

   he said he was on the run afraid to return

   somebody beheads men

   plants the heads in the forest

   to grow an army

   Translated by Mirza Purić

   počeli smo noću zaključavati sobu vidjevši

   djedovu sjenu s nožem kako stoji kraj naših kreveta

   rekao je da čuje korake oko kuće 

   i pazi da nas zauvijek ne odvuku u šumu

    

   nedugo zatim je prvi put

   razgovarao s mrtvima

   i pobjegao preskočivši 

   visoku ogradu našeg dvorišta 

   tako su svjedočili susjedi

   nakon četiri dana našli smo ga 

   na drugom kraju grada 

   skrivenog u jarku 

    

   rekao je da bježi i ne smije se vratiti

   netko siječe ljudima glave 

   i sadi ih u šumi

   da uzgoji vojsku

7. HEREDITARY DISEASES / NASLJEDNE BOLESTI

   

   

   ENGHRV

   a ring a spring another ring and some coins 

   is what the x-ray found in grandma’s stomach

   we stared long at the picture and couldn’t agree 

   whether insanity was hereditary or contractible

    

   for years afterwards she kept to herself

   she was a demi-doe grandma

   with muddy hooves 

   we were afraid she would soil our clothes 

   she would plant us with seeds of autumn

   that would overgrow us like weeds

    

   keeping my father’s vows

   behind her navel

   she told me she had had many lads and stags

   one time she was found they say

   with the priest

   by the brook

   Translated by Mirza Purić

   prsten feder još jedan prsten i nekoliko kovanica 

   sve su to pronašli u bakinom trbuhu na rendgenu

   dugo smo gledali u sliku i nismo se mogli složiti 

   je li ludost nasljedna ili zarazna 

    

   još godinama poslije nije nam prilazila

   bila je polusrna polubaka

   s blatom na papcima 

   bojali smo se da će nas zamazati 

   da će u nas posaditi sjemenje jeseni

   koja će nas obrasti kao korov

    

   čuvajući zavjete mog oca

   iza pupka

   rekla mi je da je imala puno momaka i jelena

   jednom su je našli priča se

   i s popom

   kraj potoka

8. FOX / LISICA

   

   

   ENGHRV

   father had a few personalities he would put

   onto his face depending on the air humidity 

   and the depth of the autumn

   of heavy october days 

   that soaked his insides

   he sat in front of the house

   calling stray cats

   with the odd cuss beneath his tongue

   that unravelled for miles into the forest 

   across prickly chestnut burrs 

    

   on easier autumn days

   he lived in my mother’s story in which

   if the twilight is sharp enough 

   and stretches along the shoulder of the forest

   he turns into a fox 

   and returns every ten years

   as a curse

   Translated by Mirza Purić

   otac je imao nekoliko ličnosti koje je postavljao

   na lice ovisno o postotku vlage u zraku

   i dubini jeseni

   teških listopadskih dana 

   koji su mu namakali utrobu

   sjedio je ispred kuće 

   i dozivao mačke lutalice

   s ponekom psovkom ispod jezika 

   koji se otpetljavao kilometrima u šumu 

   po bodljama kestena

    

   onih lakših jesenskih dana

   živio je u priči moje majke u kojoj se

   ako je sumrak dovoljno oštar 

   i rastegnut rubom šume

   pretvara u lisicu 

   i vraća svakih deset godina

   kao prokletstvo

9. BONDING WITH SOIL / ZBLIŽAVANJE SA ZEMLJOM

   

   

   ENGHRV

   they should’ve

   oiled us with more kind words

   human husbandry is demanding work

   and mother’s hands are rough and ignorant

    

   in those days we were hoeing maize

   racing to see who’d be the first to finish a long row

   who’d be the first to crumble into a butterfly

   and take off for the forest

   for days afterwards, blisters bulged on palms 

   and it was hard to heal 

   without warmth

   Translated by Mirza Purić

   trebalo nas je

   podmazivati s više toplih riječi

   uzgajanje čovjeka zahtjevan je posao

   a majčine ruke grube su i neuke 

    

   tih dana okopavali smo kukuruz i natjecali se

   tko će prije dovršiti dugačke redove 

   tko će se prije sasuti u leptira

   i odletjeti prema šumi

   žuljevi su danima stršili iz dlanova 

   i bilo je teško pravilno zarasti 

   bez topline

10. THUNDERGOD / GROMOVNIK

    

    

    ENGHRV

    my nana’s mother fetches water from the stream and sleeps

    in the leaves when no one’s looking

    as a girl she fell handfirst into a cauldron of hot lard

    and she had a great big scar

    that ran the length of her forearm

     

    she always recounted

    how her children

    six sons and a daughter

    sprouted up like mushrooms

    a child each summer

    during those fertile rainy years

     

    on a july afternoon long ago

    thundergod cast a bolt

    straight at their stable

    her cats lost their ears

    her sons scattered like ants 

    and fled across the equator

    Translated by Mirza Purić

    majka moje bake nosi vodu s potoka i spava

    u lišću kad nitko ne gleda

    pala je rukom u kotao pun masti kao djevojka

    i nosila veliki ožiljak 

    dužinom cijele podlaktice

     

    uvijek je pričala

    kako su njena djeca 

    šest sinova i jedna kćer

    nicali kao gljive

    jedno po jedno svakog ljeta 

    tih plodnih kišnih godina

     

    davnog srpanjskog popodneva

    gromovnik je bacio munju

    ravno u njihovu štalu

    mačke su izgubile uši

    a njeni sinovi

    razbježali su se poput mrava

    na drugu stranu ekvatora

11. DEAF CATS / GLUHE MAČKE

    

    

    ENGHRV

    when thundergod rearranged the sky

    the first bolt struck our stable

    the second struck young kata

     

    they buried her upright up to her chin

    in the garden by the onion beds

    and waited for two days

    for her hands to sprout

    from the soggy black soil

     

    it was another miracle

    the villagers witnessed

    our deaf cats meowed dejectedly

    unable to hear their own voices

    or their purring insides full of mice and kittens

    and kata carried lightning under her heart

    that was skipping

    like a broken toy

    Translated by Mirza Purić

    kad je gromovnik presložio nebo

    prvi grom udario je u našu štalu

    a drugi u mladu katu

     

    zakopali su je do glave

    u vrt kraj gredica luka

    i čekali dva dana 

    da joj proklijaju ruke

    iz mokre crnice

     

    bilo je to još jedno čudo

    kojem su svjedočili seljani

    naše gluhe mačke nesretno su mijaukale

    ne mogavši čuti svoje glasove

    ni preduće utrobe pune miševa i mačića

    a kata je nosila munju pod srcem

    koje je preskakalo 

    kao pokvarena igračka

12. WRATHS / BJESOVI

    

    

    ENGHRV

    if winter is cold enough

    village dogs freeze where they stand and for months

    their skinny bodies look like museum pieces

    if cold wind blows

    their tails fall off

    and they stand mangled

     

    in such winters packs

    of wolves come down from the mountains

    for there are no dogs to raise alarm

    in such winters 

    wraths multiply by the hearths

    and overcome the villagers like seasonal flu

     

    nana says it’s always been that way

    wraths enter through your mouth when you least expect them

    after midnight they go from one wolves’ den to another

    and wolf children grow in women’s wombs

     

    we mustn’t let ourselves be fooled says nana

    by the childly faces they wear

    the wolven in them grows faster than the human

    sooner or later

    they will bite

    Translated by Mirza Purić

    ako je zima dovoljno hladna

    smrznu se seoski psi i njihova mršava tijela

    izgledaju mjesecima kao muzejski primjerci

    zapuše li ledeni vjetar

    otpadaju im repovi

    pa stoje osakaćeni 

     

    za takvih zima iz planina 

    spušta se čopor vukova

    jer ih psi neće odati

    za takvih zima

    množe se bjesovi u ognjištima 

    i ulaze u seljane kao sezonska gripa

     

    baka kaže da je tako oduvijek

    bjesovi se u usta uvlače kad najmanje očekuješ

    pa iza ponoći obilaze vučje brloge

    u maternicama žena izrastu vučja djeca

     

    ne smije nas prevariti kaže baka

    što nose dječja lica

    u njima vukovi rastu brže od ljudi

    i kad tad

    ugrist će

13. BONDING WITH DEATH / ZBLIŽAVANJE SA SMRĆU

    

    

    ENGHRV

    father died
    everything is ajar
    god could sneak through
    our house without us ever knowing
     

    it’s draughty
    
    I keep my hands on my kidneys lest they come to grief
    now that everything’s been flooded
    my fingers are wrinkly like walnut skin
    I spend hours with my feet in cold water
    and I run for a pee all the time
    
    my hair is wet
    mother shouts I’m apt to catch a cold
    but she cannot shut
    the doors or the windows

    Translated by Mirza Purić

    otac je umro

    sve je širom otvoreno

    i bog se može provući

    kroz cijelu kuću da nikad ne saznamo

    propuh je

     

    držim ruke na bubrezima da ne stradaju 

    ovih dana kad je sve poplavljeno

    prsti su mi smežurani kao orahova ljuska

    satima sam nogama u hladnoj vodi

    i stalno trčim piškiti 

     

    mokra mi je kosa

    majka viče da ću se prehladiti

    ali ne može zatvoriti

    ni prozore ni vrata

14. BROTHER / BRAT

    

    

    ENGHRV

    he had polio as a kid

    and they tossed him in freezing water all the time

    to cool off his incandescent organs

    but he took a breath and he burnt

    as if he’d taken nuclear processes of stars under his roof

     

    st anthony may have jumped in later

    since god couldn’t be bothered

    and brother started to walk again though by then they’d read 

    three more sicknesses from his spongy skeleton

     

    in his head he grew unnamed birds

    talked with them more often than with people

     

    there are remnants of the sun’s incandescent corona

    underneath his inexperienced skin

    and sometimes

    when no one is looking

    he glows in the dark

    Translated by Mirza Purić

    imao je dječju paralizu kao mali

    i bacali su ga neprestano u mrzlu vodu 

    da ohlade njegove užarene organe

    a on je tek udahnuvši gorio

    kao da je udomio nuklearne procese zvijezda

     

    možda je kasnije uskočio sveti ante 

    kad se bogu nije dalo

    pa je prohodao makar su pročitali još tri bolesti 

    u njegovom spužvastom kosturu

     

    u glavi je uzgajao neimenovane ptice 

    s kojima je pričao češće nego s ljudima

     

    ostalo je još nešto od užarene sunčeve korone

    ispod njegove neiskusne kože 

    i ponekad

    kad nitko ne gleda

    svijetli u mraku

15. TRAINS / VLAKOVI

    

    

    ENGHRV

    when the first train passed

    the villagers thought the night was a candle

    lit up and put out

    at the will of the roaring machine

    and nothing was quiet and holy

    anymore

     

    only kata loved the noisy metal caterpillars

    on tuesdays she grazed her sheep

    and cows by the tracks

    and observed obediently

    as they spoke with god

    Translated by Mirza Purić

    kad je prošao prvi vlak 

    učinilo se seljanima da je noć svijeća 

    koja se pali i gasi

    prema volji glasnog stroja 

    i ništa više nije ostajalo 

    sveto i tiho

     

    samo je kata voljela bučne metalne gusjenice

    utorkom je vodila ovce i krave 

    na ispašu kraj pruge

    i promatrala poslušno 

    kako razgovaraju s bogom

16. The Poet Writes Down: The City, Frailty, Lust / Pjesnikinja zapisuje: grad, nemoć, požuda

    

    

    ENGHRV

    Darkness gusts in and again –

    everything is drained of space it takes.

    The buzz of winter, the first drops of night,

    the Earth’s spin couldn’t care less

    about the side to which the poem turns to get herself to sleep

    With the frost nipping at my fingers and metaphors,

    I rush recklessly into the grip of time:

    deadlines are coming to demand the words of my tongue:

    We need you to turn in December at least

    feel free to throw in those three

    love disappointments.

    Up ahead the city square gives in under the crowd of multitudes

    I bowl the day over: a kiss, contempt, plastics, pussy.

    The direction in which darkness accelerates comes as no surprise.

    It faces away from the city, while the street never thinks about her youth,

    even as her first menstrual flow trickles along

    Breaks through and carves a path in her thighs, all the way down to the knee cartilage.

    Someone throws a marble; someone else throws somebody’s head.

    I find my uterus my permission to write down at least one truth:

    a woman opened up to a woman and one thing led to another.

    I picked up a brick, who is without sin, let them be the first and so on,

    with this in mind I tumbled down

    and dragged the poet with me

    the one I put on paper in my idea of the city.

    A presumption, predictable too: curses sound more natural coming out of his mouth,

    but the pussy stuff is my privilege.

    The city orgasms right before dawn: my fingertips slip down and reach for simpler truths:

    I love to make out when I’m drunk.

    I wouldn’t know love if it flew into my mouth.

    The dawn is throbbing. Sweaty. Ancient.

    The city is gone, but the light has no way to know.

    Translated by Marina Veverec

    Mrak zapuhune i ponovno – 

    lišeno je sve prostora koje zauzima.

    Zujanje zime, prve kapi noći, 

    vrtnji zemlje svejedno je

    na kojoj strani pjesma usniva

    Dok mraz štipa za prste i metafore, 

    bespogovorno srljam u stisak vremena:

    rokovi su sjeli na jezik: 

    predaj nam barem prosinac 

    i ta tri 

    razočarana zaljubljivanja.

    Trg preda mnom pun množine popušta

    Prevrnuo sam posudu dana: poljubac, prijezir, plastika, pička. 

    Smjer u kojem ubrzava tama sasvim očekivan. 

    Gradu leđima okrenut, ulica ne promišlja svoje mladenaštvo, 

    a spustila se prva menstruacija 

    Probila i izbrazdala puteljak bedrima, do hrskavice koljena. 

    Netko baci pikulu, netko nečiju glavu.

    U meni je pristanak maternica da se zapiše i poneka istina:

    žena je ženi otvorila usta i jedno je dovelo do drugoga.

    Podignula sam ciglu, tko nema grijeha, neka prvi i tako dalje,

    u toj namjeri skotrljala sam se 

    i povukla za sobom pjesnika

    kojeg sam napisala u ideji grada. 

    Pretpostavka, također predvidljiva: pjesniku je prirodnija psovka, 

    iako je prostor pičke moja privilegija. 

    Orgazam grada pred zoru: spuštam prste u jednostavne istine:

    Volim se ljubiti pijana. 

    Ljubav ne bih prepoznala ni da mi se zabije u usta..

    Zora pulsira. Znojna. Prastara.

    Grada nema, ali svjetlo to ne zna.

17. The Poet Writes Down: The Devil, The City, The Truth / Pjesnikinja zapisuje: đavao, grad, istina

    

    

    ENGHRV

    On the road, if there is a road, you can easily check the truth you hold close:

    My statement: I do not trust anyone who does not trust their own devil.

    If bricks were to sing when the bulldozers head after them,

    and the poem was to burst into an unnamed wonder of collapse,

    maybe the truth would wiggle out and convert into seemingly

    banal politics: water is water in all languages,

    food is food in all guts.

     

    Still, when the city’s not watching, language resonates with sins

    Look – your eager, thirsty heart is a sound box

    and it’s an unavoidable trap: you talk out of both sides of your mouth

    I was to give the city a writer carved out of my own kidney,

    rationed my words, I was patient, devoted my hands.

    The city blueprint: it’s a lot easier to disappear than to stay here.

     

    On the street, if there is a street, the thing is simple:

    in every man there lies a tamed devil and it’s true, I admit,

    that I do not trust people who do not trust their devils.

    I was to give the city a poet carved out of the right atrium of my heart,

    Completely carried away I stumbled and could’ve died on the spot,

    stabbed by the sharp tongue of a vulgar passer-by,

    hadn’t my devil barked back metaphors at him.

    Translated by Marina Veverec

    Na cesti, ako ceste ima, jednostavno je provjeriti vlastiti istinu:

    Tvrdim: ne vjerujem čovjeku koji ne vjeruje svom đavlu. 

    Ako bi cigle zapjevale pred brzinom bagera, 

    a pjesma prasnula u neimenovano čudo rušenja,

    istina bi se možda izmigoljila pa prenamijenila u naizgled 

    banalna politička rješenja: voda je voda na svim jezicima,

    hrana je hrana u svim crijevima. 

     

    Ipak, kad grad ne gleda, jezik rezonira s grijesima

    Gle- tvoje je žudno, žedno srce zvučna kutija

    i zamka je neizbježna: sam sebi ulijećeš u usta

    Rezbarila sam gradu spisateljicu od svog bubrega, 

    štedljiva na riječima, pažljiva, posvećena rukama. 

    Nacrt grada: ovdje je lakše nestati, nego ostati.

     

    Na ulici, ako ulice ime, jednostavno je:

    u svakom je čovjeku pitomi đavao i istina je, priznajem,

    da ne vjerujem ljudima koji ne vjeruju svojim đavlima. 

    Rezbarila sam gradu pjesnikinju od desne pretklijetke srca,

    spotaknula se zanesena i možda bih na mjestu umrla

    od oštrog jezika priprostog prolaznika 

    da moj đavo nije zalajao metaforama. 

18. Lot’s Wife Writes Down Lust / Lotova žena zapisuje žudnju

    

    

    ENGHRV

    I don’t know what the next moment might bring,

    tell me everything – but do not stumble and drop the truth.

    It’s just the same as writing poetry, an indefinite borrowing, I came here to burst into flames

    Amid a city in ruins, at a stake of my hasty tongue. Say:

    Silence is never as sticky as when resting on your thighs.

    Sadness is never as severe as right before sleep.

    I dug out the graves, unaware of the city’s hunger, though of death I was aware

    I opted for the fastest solutions, fast food, fast love, fast truth:

    These days I can have one on top of the other two orgasms,

    But I still find my body is occasionally

    Autumn confined in a space of not much more than a meter.

    Cold weather, rain, books.

    I’m far too grown up and not grown up enough. When you tell me run, I imagine

    the city behind me perishing in dust, and I –

    No. No. No. I couldn’t resist the temptation to turn and give that metaphor a look

    Compared to being turned into a pillar of salt which I agreed to embody,

    it was hard to agree with the imposed truths:

    The tongue and the body being as chaste as the amoebas,

    the flesh torn from bones for lavish feasts, the tongue tied up,

    a heaven-kissing soundless shriek raising from a cozy cage.

    
    Who is without sin, let them be the first.

    Translated by Marina Veverec

    Nisam sigurna u trenutak pred nama, 

    reci mi sve– ali nemoj posrnuti u istinu.

    Tako je i s pjesmama, posudba na neodređeno, ovdje sam da planem

    Usred razrušenog grada, lomača brzopletog jezika. Reci:

    Tišina je najljepljivija na tvojim bedrima.

    Tuga je najstroža tik prije usnuća.

    Prekopala sam grobove, nesvjesna gladi grada, ali smrti svjesna

    Okrenula se najbržim rješenjima, brza hrana, brza ljubav, brza istina:

    Ovih dana mogu doživjeti jedan za drugim dva orgazma,

    Ali tijelo mi je povremeno i dalje 

    jesen zatvorena u nešto više od metra. 

    Studen, kiša, knjiga.

    Previše sam i premalo odrasla. Kad kažem trči, zamišljam

    Kako grad iza mene skončava, a ja – 

    Ne. Ne. Ne. Nisam odoljela okrenuti se za tom metaforom

    Naspram stupa od soli koji sam pristala utjeloviti,

    teže je bilo pristati na nametnute istine:

    Jezik i tijelo čedni poput amebe, 

    oderano meso za raskošne gozbe, jezik zavezan,

    do neba visok nijemi vrisak usred udobnog kaveza.

     

    Tko grijeha nema, neka prvi.

19. Magdalene Writes Down Lust / Magdalena zapisuje žudnju

    

    

    ENGHRV

    I set out to do my work with caution. In all honesty, I never liked the idea of god.

    But now, when you’re inside of me, it seems – everything’s perfectly fine. God is beautiful, tame-natured, polite, mannerly and above all manly. Unlike

     

    Other men, he always finds the right spot, without me saying a word.

    He gently pulls me into autumn. Pressure. Breath. Left speechless, I feel

    As love, blind with his saliva, splits open under me. You licked me

     

    And then, the heavy weight of sleep fell on us both. My belly brims with smashed fears,

    it’s what people call butterflies, but they are in fact fish in water so warm they’ll 

    Soon be left without oxygen, and most certainly

     

    Dead, floating on the surface hours before we open our eyes. None of that looks like love, but then again, you don’t look like a god either, I say to you while having my third orgasm on top of you, while thrusting you deceitfully to the verge,

     

    Prying the truth out of you. You’ll soon be dead, that’s why you’re so quiet. I don’t find that convincing, but then again – you, young, yet seasoned, don’t seem immortal either. Then we fall asleep among the dead fish that tomorrow have to feed a few hundred starved mouths.

    Translated by Marina Veverec

    Oprezno sam prionula na posao. Sasvim iskreno, nikada nisam voljela ideju boga.

    Ali sada, kada si u meni, čini mi se – sve je u savršenom redu. Bog je lijep, pitom, pristojan, uglađen i sasvim muževan. Za razliku 

     

    Od drugih muškaraca, prstima uvijek pogodi točno mjesto, bez da ja progovorim. 

    Nježno me privuče u jesen. Pritisak. Udah. Zanijemim, a poda mnom rastvori se ljubav slinom zaslijepljena. Polizao si me 

     

    I potom, teški se uteg sna svalio na oboje. Trbuh mi je pun smrskanih strahova, to je ono što zovu leptirićima, a zapravo je riječ o ribama u pretoploj vodi koje će 

    Uskoro ostati bez kisika, i sasvim sigurno

     

    Mrtve na površini plutati satima prije nego otvorimo oči. Ništa od toga ne nalikuje na ljubav, ali opet, ni ti ne nalikuješ na boga, govorim ti dok svršavam na tebi već treći put, dok te nabijam do ruba 

     

    Na prevaru iskamčene istine. Uskoro ćeš umrijeti, zato si šutljiv. Ni to mi ne zvuči uvjerljivo, ali opet – ni ti ne izgledaš, mlad, a iskusan, besmrtan. Pa zaspemo među mrtvim riba kojima već sutra treba nahraniti par gladnih stotina.

20. Eve Writes Down Lust / Eva zapisuje žudnju

    

    

    ENGHRV

    I bite into the engorged city, loud so loud raging, a thick

    Sadness split at the sight of nudity. Mine, of course.

    Your snake gave me a tickle, then not at all ominously 

    Twisted its presumption around my wrists

    That I am green when it comes to lust and not at all brave, then tightened

    Sentences around my thighs, writing love, then stretched the borders wide.

    I’m choking on the apple. You know how a woman gags when she

    Recklessly swallows passion on an empty stomach, I choked

    Like I’ve never choked before, and there it was, the first sin.

    I never told you, I almost cried,

    When you spread me open, so smug, instead I just sighed

    Ants are crawling about taking away the pieces of apple,

    the men inside me, your fingers

    And the boy whose skin I wear whenever I have to make myself

    Loud and assertive.

    Ants ants ants taking away my words –

    I masturbate with fingers mine and yours.

    The soft tissue of pleasure is more vulnerable than virginity –

    I plant a kiss first on the snake’s then on your tongue.

    We can all walk together

    Through the already busted door at the end of my lust.

    I greatly sinned through my fault,

    through my fault, through my most grievous fault!

    Just please let this apple somehow

    Slide down my throat.

    Translated by Marina Veverec

    Nabrekao grizem grad, glasna glasna goropadna, gusta 

    Tuga se raspolovila pred golotinjom. Mojom, dakako. 

    Tvoja me zmija poškakljala, potom je oko zapešća

    Nimalo zloslutno zavezale svoju zamisao

    Da sam zelena u žudnji i nimalo hrabra, oko bedara stegnule

    Rečenice, zapisale volim, pa razvukle granice.

    Gušim se u jabuci. Znaš, ono kad se žena zagrcne jer je natašte, neporezno

    Progutala strast, zagrcnuh se

    Kao nikada dotada, i eto prvog grijeha. 

    Nisam ti rekla, gotovo sam zaplakala,

    Kada si me otvorio, tako samodopadan, ipak samo uzdahnula

    Mravi hodaju i raznose komadiće jabuke,

    Muškarce u meni, tvoje prste

    I dječaka u kojeg se oblačim kad god trebam biti 

    Glasna i nametljiva. 

    Mravi mravi mravi raznose mi riječi – 

    masturbiram s tvojim i svojim prstima.

    Meko je meso užitka ranjivije od nevinosti –

    Zmiji pa tebi u jezik utisnem poljubac. 

    Svi možemo zajedno zakoračiti

    Kroz već provaljena vrata na kraju moje požude.

    Moj grijeh, moj grijeh, moj preveliki grijeh!

    Samo da jabuka nekako

    Niz grlo sklizne.

21. The Poet Writes: Milk, Motherhood, and More Fatigue / Pjesnikinja zapisuje: mlijeko, majčinstvo i još umora

    

    

    ENGHRV

    The math is clear: you cannot be subtracted from yourself.

    A howl, or a less explosive truth: a sigh,

    an unbroken thread of lost self-confidence.

    Does every step really deserve to leave a print?

    Not more beautiful than death, but certainly calmer,

    A calcified lust, a silence raw, yet edible

    Stir your nipples to riot, aroused, visibly hard

    And you roar out milk tastes sour, milk tastes bitter:

    The mother you’ve become outgrew the woman in you, 

    fatigue got ahead of her attempt to return.

    But that’s not the deal you made.

     

    If you really have to, you’ll comb the week

    into smaller sections of fatigue, but you’ll do it tomorrow.

    For now, you’d like to stay silent just a while longer.

    You’d like to evoke something lighter than fatty metaphors.

    A woman wouldn’t gauge out another woman’s eyes, would she?

    Tired, you’re just tired all the time.

     

    Something like this? I’m still here, you try to whisper yourself back.

    On the window, a crow patiently watches this uncertain scene,

    The bones of my disjointed sentences, the way I pile up adjectives because – why not!

    You wanted to write something about milk:

    the milk crusted on my cotton T-shirt,

    the milk so stale its odor has been stinging my nostrils since early morning

    the milk that drips relentlessly.

    Body’s howl, or a less intrusive truth: a sigh.

    An unbroken thread of lost sleep.

    I put my serious, weary heart on the scales –

    It weighs a lot more than me and my bed.

    Translated by Marina Veverec

    Računica je jasna: ne može te se oduzeti od tebe.

    Krik, ili manje eksplozivna istina: uzdah, 

    neprekinuta nit nedostatka samopouzdanja.

    Zaslužuje li svaki korak zaista otisak?

    Ne ljepša od smrti, ali svakako smirenija, 

    Okoštena žudnja, tišina sirova, ali ipak jestiva 

    Pobunila je, probudila, ponukala tvoje bradavice da se jasno ukrute 

    Pa si zaurlala mlijeko kiselo, mlijeko gorko:

    Majka je prerasla ženu u tebi, umor je preduhitrio pokušaj povratka.

    A niste se tako dogovorile. 

     

    Ako baš moraš, rasčešljat ćeš tjedan, 

    na manje umore, ali sutra.

    Sada bi još samo malo šutjela. 

    Prizvala nešto jednostavnije od masnih metafora.

    Žena ženi oči ne vadi, zar ne?

    Umorna, samo si neprestano umorna. 

     

    Ovako? Prisutna sam, šapućeš sebe u sebe. 

    Na prozoru, vrana strpljivo gleda u neizvjesnost ovog prizora,

    Kosti mojih nesuvislih rečenica, gomilanje pridjeva jer – zašto ne!

    Htjela si zapisati nešto o mlijeku:

    mlijeku skorenom na pamučnoj majici, 

    mlijeku ustajalom do smrada koji štipa od jutra, mlijeku koje kaplje neprestano.

    Krik tijela, ili manje nametljiva istina: uzdah. 

    Neprekinuta nit nedostatka sna. 

    Važem svoje ozbiljno, iscrpljeno srce –

    Teže je od mene i mog kreveta. 

22. Delilah Writes Down Lust / Dalila zapisuje žudnju

    

    

    ENGHRV

    The secret is you have to first find a place of least resistance.

    One finger above the grundle, two inside, one pointing at the sunrise.

    Language disguises as a tool for oblivion, although you know full well that memory

    Is the first lie of the language apparatus.

    The act of writing is an attempt to defend ourselves with our lies. The transfer of intimacy

     

    From one bellybutton to another. When I slide my tongue into the spot where you were ripped from your mother,

    My words give you a tickle. Do you feel it cheering you up?

    I’ll show you the way out of the body. I’ll kiss you

     

    Right where you screamed. It’s just hair, my love. You can always ask me politely, to put you back into the womb, to swallow your semen, to tell you the truth:

     

    It’s been four days since words last came to see me, for ten days the rain

    Has been blocking a happy ending from happening.

    Death smiled upon us too, so I spit in its mouth.

    Twenty minutes before I cut your womanhood short, I was suffocating with love

    And thought I’d soon be dead. But, at the last second –

     

    I remembered: it’s just sex, my love.

    I remembered: it’s just a movie, my love.

    I remembered: I still have to capture the woman I am

    I remembered: you’re sinful, my love.

    And all this worry is toxic.

    I cut your hair, then brought me back to myself.

    Translated by Marina Veverec

    Tajna je u tome da najprije sama pronađeš mjesta najmanjeg otpora.

    Jedan prst iznad međice, dva unutra, jedan položen prema izlasku sunca.

    Jezik se prerušava u alat zaborava, iako dobro znaš da je pamćenje

    Prva neistina jezičnog aparata.

    Pisanje je nastojanje da se obranimo vlastitim lažima. Prijenos prisnosti

     

    Od pupka do pupka. Kad zavučem jezik tamo gdje si bio otrgnut od majke, 

    Moja te rečenica poškaklja. Osjetiš li kako te odobrovoljava?

    Pokazat ću ti izlaz iz tijela. Poljubit ću te

     

    Tamo gdje si vrisnuo. To je samo kosa, ljubavi. Uvijek me možeš zamoliti, da te vratim u maternicu, da progutam tvoju spermu, da ti kažem istinu:

     

    Riječi već četvrti dan nisu sletjele na mene, kiša već deset dana

    Zaklanja mogućnost sretnog kraja.

    Smrt se i nama osmjehnula, pa sam joj pljunula u usta.

    Dvadeset minuta prije nego ću ti odrezati ženskost, gušim se od ljubavi

    I već pomislih da ću umrijeti. Ali, u zadnji tren – 

     

    Sjetim se: to je samo seks, ljubavi. 

    Sjetim se: to je samo film, ljubavi. 

    Sjetim se: još mi ostaje zarobiti ženu koja jesam

    Sjetim se: grešan si, ljubavi. 

    I ova je briga toksična. 

    Ošišala sam te, pa se sebi prizvala. 

23. The Poet Writes Down: The Funeral, An Orgasm, Autumn / Pjesnikinja zapisuje: sprovod, orgazam, jesen

    

    

    ENGHRV

    The dead leaves are collecting on the bottom of my fear,

    It’s that autumn which neither you nor I mention,

    The tongue nailed to mouth.

    My father killed me once, I say.

    Then withdraw my tongue. Keep it trapped behind my teeth.

    He killed me then came back to life, over and over again.

     

    Yes, the days are growing shorter, the rain heavier as they 

    one by one fall into my mouth.

    The fear moved out, and the autumn blues undressed as we watched,

    Then I, too, took off my skin and cried out.

    He’s dead. The ants still crawling inside my thighs.

     

    I shut the door behind me.

    Proudly paced the length of my flat naked.

    Three orgasms, a sadness deep down in my loins,

    gentle and precise like a woman’s tongue.

    Silence afterwards. Waiting for a funeral.

    Translated by Marina Veverec

    Otpalo lišće taloži se na dnu mog straha, 

    To je ta jesen koju ne spominjemo ni ti ni ja,

    Čavao ispod jezika. 

    Otac me je jednom ubio, kažem. 

    Potom povučem jezik. Držim ga za zubima.

    Ubio me pa me uskrsnuo, pa iznova. 

     

    Da, dani su kraći, i sve kišniji zabijaju se 

    jedan po jedan u moja usta. 

    Strah je iselio, a jesenja se tuga razodjenula pred nama, 

    Potom sam i ja kožu skinula i zavrištala. 

    Mrtav. Mravi gmižu i dalje mojim bedrima.

     

    Zatvorila sam vrata za sobom. 

    Ponosno prohodala cijeli stan gola. 

    Tri orgazma, tuga među mojim slabinama, 

    nježna i precizna poput ženskog jezika.

    Tišina nakon. Iščekivanje sprovoda. 

24. The Poet Tries To Write Down Her Father / Pjesnikinja pokušava zapisati oca

    

    

    ENGHRV

    The fact that my father was the first to set the hungry beasts on me is

    a whole other story. The one about domestication

     

    When the unspeakable is laid on the table, irreversibly

    changing the meaning of hunger

     

    When October light propagates

    chestnut blight, powerless over the cruelty of decay

     

    When a farsighted hunch

    collects in my gut, three seeds of an all-too-familiar fear

     

    When I put forth my shoots, despite my father,

    before his wet cruel eyes

     

    Yes, that’s the one, the story that has

    gnawed at us for years, laid the foundations for our first starvation

     

    One that threatened to wring our necks

    as if we were baby chickens fattened for slaughter.

     

    I’m more of a loud one than I belong to my father. At last.

    My body boils with the heat of July, and then

     

    Without a doubt in my mind that I am free,

    I let lust break down in the scorching sun.

    Translated by Marina Veverec

    To što je otac prvi na mene pustio gladne zvijeri, to je 

    druga priča. Ona o pripitomljavanju

     

    Kada na stol silazi neizrecivo, nepovratno

    mijenjajući riječ glad

     

    Kada svjetlost listopada oplodi 

    kestenovu bolest, nemoć pred okrutnosti propadanja

     

    Kada sam u trbuhu skupila dalekovidnu 

    slutnju, tri koštice već poznatog straha

     

    Kada sam proklijala, ocu usprkos

    ocu pred vlažnim okrutnim očima

     

    Da, to je ta priča, pripovijest koja nas je 

    godinama glodala, temelj prvog izgladnjivanja

     

    Koja nam je vratovima prijetila zavrnuti

    baš kao da smo tek ugojeni pilići.

     

    Više sam glasna, nego što sam očeva. Napokon. 

    tijelo mi vrije na vrelini srpnja, a onda 

     

    Bez ikakve sumnje u to da sam slobodna,

    puštam da se žudnja raspadne na žestini sunca.