Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Borben Vladović

Wheels Warehouse

Rings of old tyres were heaped
like small loops on a wedding cake.
Two early-matured boys
were leaning on the door in
quite unsuitable suits as if in mourning
for those discarded
swallowers of the motorways and kilometres.  
From the shed and the yard
the sharp smell of vulcanisation was spreading
and old strings have been repaired and tuned.
The boys are in charge of the elasticity and firmness
and now they are standing again by the entrance
alert but absentminded watching
the clouds and the people passing by
waiting for judgement from the rich linden tree
will they be condemned or set free
by that fragrance, and so they are turning
their noses towards the jury

Skladište kotača

Skladište kotača

Koluti starih guma naslagani
poput vjenčića na svadbenoj torti
Dva prerano odrasla dječaka
naslonjeni na vrata u
nimalo svečanoj odori kao u koroti
za tim odbačenim bivšim
gutačima cesta i kilometara
Iz barake i dvorišta
širi se jaki miris vulkaniziranja gume
krpaju se, ugađaju stare strune
Za elastičnost i čvrstoću zaduženi
njih dvojica stražarski ponovno stoje na porti
gledaju spremni s odsutni
u prolazeće oblake i ljude
čekajući presudu raskošne krošnje lipe
hoće li ih taj miris osuditi ili
osloboditi pa skreću noseve prema poroti
Close

Wheels Warehouse

Rings of old tyres were heaped
like small loops on a wedding cake.
Two early-matured boys
were leaning on the door in
quite unsuitable suits as if in mourning
for those discarded
swallowers of the motorways and kilometres.  
From the shed and the yard
the sharp smell of vulcanisation was spreading
and old strings have been repaired and tuned.
The boys are in charge of the elasticity and firmness
and now they are standing again by the entrance
alert but absentminded watching
the clouds and the people passing by
waiting for judgement from the rich linden tree
will they be condemned or set free
by that fragrance, and so they are turning
their noses towards the jury

Wheels Warehouse

Rings of old tyres were heaped
like small loops on a wedding cake.
Two early-matured boys
were leaning on the door in
quite unsuitable suits as if in mourning
for those discarded
swallowers of the motorways and kilometres.  
From the shed and the yard
the sharp smell of vulcanisation was spreading
and old strings have been repaired and tuned.
The boys are in charge of the elasticity and firmness
and now they are standing again by the entrance
alert but absentminded watching
the clouds and the people passing by
waiting for judgement from the rich linden tree
will they be condemned or set free
by that fragrance, and so they are turning
their noses towards the jury
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
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère