Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Borben Vladović

Venice

Numbed in front of the harbour
still salty from the Atlantic Ocean waves,
like a nose peeled by the sun,
from the helicopter, the cargo ship together
with the town made a picture, it seems.
But the distance between them is too large
like the old sailor and his youth
in this same harbour of rainy Venice.
The sailor observes an unchanged panorama
those elaborate, nice, wet and upright
boxes made from leathery cardboard.
He thinks, should I even this time go
into the veined pattern of the streets
that look like swollen blue veins
on the calf of his slow-walking leg.
He is measuring the distance from the ship to the town:
a small boat would do
and once it was possible to swim across
but towards that tiny building with the dome
half way to its pier  
the sea wrinkles just like his
thumbprint for the first time stamped
on the Venetian glass rose  

Venecija

Venecija

Umrtvljen ispred luke
osoljen još od valova Atlantskog oceana
teretni, kao nos od sunca oljušten, brod
iz helikoptera čini se s gradom
tvori zajedničku sliku
No njihova udaljenost je velika
poput staroga mornara i njegove mladosti
u ovoj istoj luci kišne Venecije
Gleda mornar u nepromijenjenu panoramu
u te razvedene, lijepe, mokre i uspravne
škatule štavljenoga kartona
Pomišlja, treba li i ovaj put otići
među venozni splet gradskih ulica
nalik njegovim nabreklim modrim žilama
na listu neishodane noge
Mjeri udaljenost broda od grada:
može se malim čamcem
a i preplivati se nekada moglo
ali prema onoj sićušnoj zgradi s kupolom
na pola puta do njezina gata
namreškalo se more u obliku otiska
njegova palca prvi put otisnutog
na venecijanskoj staklenoj ruži
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Venice

Numbed in front of the harbour
still salty from the Atlantic Ocean waves,
like a nose peeled by the sun,
from the helicopter, the cargo ship together
with the town made a picture, it seems.
But the distance between them is too large
like the old sailor and his youth
in this same harbour of rainy Venice.
The sailor observes an unchanged panorama
those elaborate, nice, wet and upright
boxes made from leathery cardboard.
He thinks, should I even this time go
into the veined pattern of the streets
that look like swollen blue veins
on the calf of his slow-walking leg.
He is measuring the distance from the ship to the town:
a small boat would do
and once it was possible to swim across
but towards that tiny building with the dome
half way to its pier  
the sea wrinkles just like his
thumbprint for the first time stamped
on the Venetian glass rose  

Venice

Numbed in front of the harbour
still salty from the Atlantic Ocean waves,
like a nose peeled by the sun,
from the helicopter, the cargo ship together
with the town made a picture, it seems.
But the distance between them is too large
like the old sailor and his youth
in this same harbour of rainy Venice.
The sailor observes an unchanged panorama
those elaborate, nice, wet and upright
boxes made from leathery cardboard.
He thinks, should I even this time go
into the veined pattern of the streets
that look like swollen blue veins
on the calf of his slow-walking leg.
He is measuring the distance from the ship to the town:
a small boat would do
and once it was possible to swim across
but towards that tiny building with the dome
half way to its pier  
the sea wrinkles just like his
thumbprint for the first time stamped
on the Venetian glass rose  
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
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