Poem
Sibila Petlevski
Passwords Of Oblivion
These marigolds grow on stems too longas if their relatives were from the field
of sunflowers, by the wall, under the window
with two bars pushed aside which a child is holding
on to with both hands, with the face of a man
similar to the child who could be pronounced
a saint in the world in which everything is younger
than it looks. Loneliness adds years.
When traces of maturity on the body that develops
by itself, which had no opportunity to meet other
bodies, including the body of God, which didn’t rub
shoulders with anybody and didn’t shake hands, which
exists and gets older without resistance, without gravitation,
when traces on this body provoke longing by sorrow,
we’ll test the passwords of oblivion not to be
condemned to sober reminding that we are still here.
© Translation: 2004, Miljenko Kovačiček
Lozinke zaborava
Lozinke zaborava
Ti neveni rastu na predugim stapkama,kao da su im daleki preci bili s polja
suncokreta, uz zid, ispod prozora s dvije
razmaknute rešetke za koje se drži
s obje ruke dijete s licem djetetu slična
muškarca kojeg bi se moglo proglasiti
svetim u svijetu u kojem je sve mlađe
nego što izgleda. Samoća dodaje godine.
Kad tragovi zrelosti na tijelu koje se razvija
samo od sebe, koje nije imalo prilike za susret
s drugim tijelima, uključujući tijelo boga, koje
nije trljalo svoje uz tuđe rame i nije se rukovalo,
koje postoji i stari bez otpora, bez gravitacije,
kad tragovi na tom tijelu izazovu žudnju tugom,
isprobat ćemo lozinke zaborava da ne bismo bili
osuđeni na trijezno podsjećanje da smo još tu.
© 2004, Sibila Petlevski
From: Passwords Of Oblivion
Publisher: Unpublished manuscript,
From: Passwords Of Oblivion
Publisher: Unpublished manuscript,
Poems
Poems of Sibila Petlevski
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Passwords Of Oblivion
These marigolds grow on stems too longas if their relatives were from the field
of sunflowers, by the wall, under the window
with two bars pushed aside which a child is holding
on to with both hands, with the face of a man
similar to the child who could be pronounced
a saint in the world in which everything is younger
than it looks. Loneliness adds years.
When traces of maturity on the body that develops
by itself, which had no opportunity to meet other
bodies, including the body of God, which didn’t rub
shoulders with anybody and didn’t shake hands, which
exists and gets older without resistance, without gravitation,
when traces on this body provoke longing by sorrow,
we’ll test the passwords of oblivion not to be
condemned to sober reminding that we are still here.
© 2004, Miljenko Kovačiček
From: Passwords Of Oblivion
From: Passwords Of Oblivion
Passwords Of Oblivion
These marigolds grow on stems too longas if their relatives were from the field
of sunflowers, by the wall, under the window
with two bars pushed aside which a child is holding
on to with both hands, with the face of a man
similar to the child who could be pronounced
a saint in the world in which everything is younger
than it looks. Loneliness adds years.
When traces of maturity on the body that develops
by itself, which had no opportunity to meet other
bodies, including the body of God, which didn’t rub
shoulders with anybody and didn’t shake hands, which
exists and gets older without resistance, without gravitation,
when traces on this body provoke longing by sorrow,
we’ll test the passwords of oblivion not to be
condemned to sober reminding that we are still here.
© 2004, Miljenko Kovačiček
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