Poem
Damir Šodan
THE CANE
I wonder whether I’ll ever have a canethat blind men old men gentlemen use
a cane I can test the ice with like Yeats
or tap on the sidewalk, scare bugs
and pigeons when the disquieted times
come, those gaunt old downhill years
I’ll need that cane
something of a cane of rosewood or
some other wood, a cane of pastimes
and even an exclamation cane
which is indeed a clothespin of a cane
joining the earth to a hand,
their interlocking pair of pliers
where you loved me once.
© Translation: 2005, Stephen M. Dickey
Štap
Štap
Hoću li ikada imati štapsljepački gospodski starački štap
štap s kojim ću kao Yeats izlaziti na led
kuckati o pločnik tjerati ptice i kukce
kad naiđu zbunjena doba
suhonjave godine koje klize niz kosine
trebat će mi taj štap
štap-nešto od ružinog ili nekog drugog
drva štap zanimacija
i naročito štap-uskličnik
koji je ustvari štap-štipaljka
što veže vertikalno zemlju i ruku
njihova obostrana kliješta
u kojima si me voljela.
© 1996, Damir Šodan
From: Glasovne promjene
Publisher: Naklada MD, Zagreb
From: Glasovne promjene
Publisher: Naklada MD, Zagreb
Poems
Poems of Damir Šodan
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THE CANE
I wonder whether I’ll ever have a canethat blind men old men gentlemen use
a cane I can test the ice with like Yeats
or tap on the sidewalk, scare bugs
and pigeons when the disquieted times
come, those gaunt old downhill years
I’ll need that cane
something of a cane of rosewood or
some other wood, a cane of pastimes
and even an exclamation cane
which is indeed a clothespin of a cane
joining the earth to a hand,
their interlocking pair of pliers
where you loved me once.
© 2005, Stephen M. Dickey
From: Glasovne promjene
From: Glasovne promjene
THE CANE
I wonder whether I’ll ever have a canethat blind men old men gentlemen use
a cane I can test the ice with like Yeats
or tap on the sidewalk, scare bugs
and pigeons when the disquieted times
come, those gaunt old downhill years
I’ll need that cane
something of a cane of rosewood or
some other wood, a cane of pastimes
and even an exclamation cane
which is indeed a clothespin of a cane
joining the earth to a hand,
their interlocking pair of pliers
where you loved me once.
© 2005, Stephen M. Dickey
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