Poem
Anka Zagar
THE OLD FISHERMAN’S NET
stars do not touchlike eyes which do not either
my path is full of sorrow
like an everlasting body
cries without beginning
sometimes I cannot appreciate it immediately
but an amphibian branch, all by itself,
once it goes too far,
floats away, breaking free from the greenheart
her smile makes fine lace
when it starts to dance it goes before the face, trembling
do not go into a stranger’s eyes
because there is no way back for you
terra incognita is
your own reflection in the mirror
silver-plated water quickly forgets
after every cut the film is put together
her body nurses her flesh back to health
in the evening fishermen lean forward dropping
their nets into the white night catching my face
laid down into the soft silence that flows
yes the entire river had already run through my dead self
but I cannot know for sure if I have given your hands a drink
© Translation: 2003, Sibila Petlevski
MREZA STAROG RIBARA
MREZA STAROG RIBARA
zvijezde se ne dodirujukao ni oci sto se ne
cesta mi je puna tuge
kao beskrajno tijelo
bez pocetka place
kojiput se ne mopgu odmah diviti
ali vodozemna grana sama
ako predaleko ode
otplovi, otrgne se od srcike
njezin osmijeh je fina cipka
zaplese, die ispred lica, drhti
strancima ne ulazi u oci
jer se neces vratiti
terra incognita je
vlastiti odraz u zrcalu
posrebrena voda brzo zaboravlja
iza svakog ureza film sklapa se
tijelom zacijeljuje svoju put
navecer ribari nagnu se, u bijelu noc
ubace mreze i ulove izraz mog lica
polegnut u mekanu tisinu koja tece
da cijela je rijeka prosla kroz mene mrtvu
a ne mogu znati jesam li tebi napojila ruke
© 1987,
Poems
Poems of Anka Zagar
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THE OLD FISHERMAN’S NET
stars do not touchlike eyes which do not either
my path is full of sorrow
like an everlasting body
cries without beginning
sometimes I cannot appreciate it immediately
but an amphibian branch, all by itself,
once it goes too far,
floats away, breaking free from the greenheart
her smile makes fine lace
when it starts to dance it goes before the face, trembling
do not go into a stranger’s eyes
because there is no way back for you
terra incognita is
your own reflection in the mirror
silver-plated water quickly forgets
after every cut the film is put together
her body nurses her flesh back to health
in the evening fishermen lean forward dropping
their nets into the white night catching my face
laid down into the soft silence that flows
yes the entire river had already run through my dead self
but I cannot know for sure if I have given your hands a drink
© 2003, Sibila Petlevski
THE OLD FISHERMAN’S NET
stars do not touchlike eyes which do not either
my path is full of sorrow
like an everlasting body
cries without beginning
sometimes I cannot appreciate it immediately
but an amphibian branch, all by itself,
once it goes too far,
floats away, breaking free from the greenheart
her smile makes fine lace
when it starts to dance it goes before the face, trembling
do not go into a stranger’s eyes
because there is no way back for you
terra incognita is
your own reflection in the mirror
silver-plated water quickly forgets
after every cut the film is put together
her body nurses her flesh back to health
in the evening fishermen lean forward dropping
their nets into the white night catching my face
laid down into the soft silence that flows
yes the entire river had already run through my dead self
but I cannot know for sure if I have given your hands a drink
© 2003, Sibila Petlevski
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