Poem
Sibila Petlevski
A New Eye
We didn’t wait for the first stork abovethe roof to fly but we put the nests on
the chimneys ourselves. Gone is the time
of wondering in which the rule would apply
that each thing is new to the new eye.
The dead quietly rise from the dead, people
live without idols all and each, freedom is
carried around like a pendant, one doesn’t die
for it more than for anything else, water is
made from blood, while ears are protected
from words and music by natural pitch.
Time and space are offered in a packet.
You’re almost a hero. Your senses
that used to be wrapped into a ball out of fear,
are slowly straightening, just like convolutions
of the brain. Life flows like current. It is
or isn’t there: one or zero. We’ve learned
to share the feelings that used to belong
only to us like reflections on the water:
as many glasses, as many moons in the glass.
© Translation: 2004, Miljenko Kovačiček
Novo oko
Novo oko
Nismo čekali da proleti prva roda iznad krovanego smo sami postavili na dimnjake gnijezda.
Prošlo je vrijeme čuđenja u kojem je vrijedilo
pravilo da je svaka stvar novome oku nova.
Mrtvaci se mirno dižu iz mrtvih, žive ljudi bez idola,
slobodu se nosi kao privjesak, za nju se ne gine
više nego za bilo što drugo, iz krvi se dobiva
voda, a uši od riječi i glazbe čuva prirodna smola.
Vrijeme i prostor nude se u paketu. Sva naša čula
koja su prije bila od straha smotana u kuglu, pomalo
se ispravljaju, baš kao i vijuge mozga. Život teče
kao struja. Ima ga ili ga nema: jedinica ili nula.
Naučili smo dijeliti osjećaje koji su bili samo naši
kao odraz u vodi: koliko čaša, toliko mjeseca u čaši.
© 2004, Sibila Petlevski
From: Passwords Of Oblivion
Publisher: Unpublished manuscript,
From: Passwords Of Oblivion
Publisher: Unpublished manuscript,
Poems
Poems of Sibila Petlevski
Close
A New Eye
We didn’t wait for the first stork abovethe roof to fly but we put the nests on
the chimneys ourselves. Gone is the time
of wondering in which the rule would apply
that each thing is new to the new eye.
The dead quietly rise from the dead, people
live without idols all and each, freedom is
carried around like a pendant, one doesn’t die
for it more than for anything else, water is
made from blood, while ears are protected
from words and music by natural pitch.
Time and space are offered in a packet.
You’re almost a hero. Your senses
that used to be wrapped into a ball out of fear,
are slowly straightening, just like convolutions
of the brain. Life flows like current. It is
or isn’t there: one or zero. We’ve learned
to share the feelings that used to belong
only to us like reflections on the water:
as many glasses, as many moons in the glass.
© 2004, Miljenko Kovačiček
From: Passwords Of Oblivion
From: Passwords Of Oblivion
A New Eye
We didn’t wait for the first stork abovethe roof to fly but we put the nests on
the chimneys ourselves. Gone is the time
of wondering in which the rule would apply
that each thing is new to the new eye.
The dead quietly rise from the dead, people
live without idols all and each, freedom is
carried around like a pendant, one doesn’t die
for it more than for anything else, water is
made from blood, while ears are protected
from words and music by natural pitch.
Time and space are offered in a packet.
You’re almost a hero. Your senses
that used to be wrapped into a ball out of fear,
are slowly straightening, just like convolutions
of the brain. Life flows like current. It is
or isn’t there: one or zero. We’ve learned
to share the feelings that used to belong
only to us like reflections on the water:
as many glasses, as many moons in the glass.
© 2004, Miljenko Kovačiček
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