Poem
Robert Perišić
ROOM
a bodyperhaps it lacks objectivity
on the terrace of the Excelsior Hotel he said I don’t remember
you can’t catch up with me
smoke was spilling on
her breasts
in the strong cigar bed
Virginia because he was afraid of death
of nothing slowly
it disappears
as
a legend
his name was Eugene
Shostakovich
in his room
with a view of a large park
they found
many love letters
unopened
empty
and by the bed, on the floor
La Tarifa delle Puttane di Venezia
fruit and vegetables in the bowl on the table
several drafts with that motif
windows were open
like a machine that stopped
and framed the landscape
© Translation: 2013, Milos Djurdjevic
SOBA
SOBA
tijelomožda mu nedostaje objektivnosti
na terasi hotela Excelsior rekao je ne sjećam se
ne možeš me dostići
dim koji se razlijevao
po njenim grudima
u krevetu jake cigare
Virginia jer se bojao smrti
ničega polako
je to nestalo
kao
legenda
zvao se Eugen
Šostakovič
kod njega
u sobi s pogledom na veliki park
pronašli su
mnogo ljubavnih pisama
neotvorenih
praznih
također
kraj kreveta bačena
La Tarifa delle Puttane di Venezia
voće i povrće u zdjeli na stolu
nekoliko pokušaja tog motiva
otvoreni prozori
kao da je stao neki stroj
koji uokviruje pejzaž
© 1995, Robert Perišić
From: Dvorac Amerika
Publisher: SC Press, Zagreb
From: Dvorac Amerika
Publisher: SC Press, Zagreb
Poems
Poems of Robert Perišić
Close
ROOM
a bodyperhaps it lacks objectivity
on the terrace of the Excelsior Hotel he said I don’t remember
you can’t catch up with me
smoke was spilling on
her breasts
in the strong cigar bed
Virginia because he was afraid of death
of nothing slowly
it disappears
as
a legend
his name was Eugene
Shostakovich
in his room
with a view of a large park
they found
many love letters
unopened
empty
and by the bed, on the floor
La Tarifa delle Puttane di Venezia
fruit and vegetables in the bowl on the table
several drafts with that motif
windows were open
like a machine that stopped
and framed the landscape
© 2013, Milos Djurdjevic
From: Dvorac Amerika
From: Dvorac Amerika
ROOM
a bodyperhaps it lacks objectivity
on the terrace of the Excelsior Hotel he said I don’t remember
you can’t catch up with me
smoke was spilling on
her breasts
in the strong cigar bed
Virginia because he was afraid of death
of nothing slowly
it disappears
as
a legend
his name was Eugene
Shostakovich
in his room
with a view of a large park
they found
many love letters
unopened
empty
and by the bed, on the floor
La Tarifa delle Puttane di Venezia
fruit and vegetables in the bowl on the table
several drafts with that motif
windows were open
like a machine that stopped
and framed the landscape
© 2013, Milos Djurdjevic
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