Poem
Robert Perišić
with my girlfriend I’m dreaming about ghosts on the terrace
with my girlfriend I’m dreaming about ghosts on terracesea mumbles for itself
and the sky is clear, and dark
our car outside the house runs at idle
it runs
you can see nothing else
but we are dreaming about pigeons all night
and cathedrals
as if we were never communists
and, why should you ask?
Jesus sits in our car
and drives all night without a word
to me, the noon is the best
they call me on my cellphone
I'm getting up
light blinds me and I can't see
because I'm a gothic chip
and he fixes the rearview mirror
runs his hand through his hair
and asks hitchhikers on their way to Frisco
Zabok
Lyon
no one goes to Korenica
and he asks them
why are we so poor?
his brain works
works
anyone can see that
our children grow up and get
on the road
outside Charlie Café
hundreds of people
are looking at the engine of our new car
and they talk, they spit
© Translation: 2013, Milos Djurdjevic
with my girlfriend I’m dreaming about ghosts on the terrace
moja draga i ja na terasi sanjamo duhove
more nešto govori u sebi
i nebo je čisto, mračno
naš automobil ispred kuće radi na minimumu
radi
ništa se ne vidi
evo čitavu noć sanjamo golubove
i katedrale
kao da nismo bili komunisti
i, zašto bi nekoga pitao?
Isus sjeda u naš automobil
i nijem vozi cijelu noć
meni je podne zakon
tad me zovu mobitelom
ustajem
ništa ja ne vidim od svjetla
jer sam gotički čip
a on popravlja retrovizor
prstima prolazi kroz kosu
i pita stopere koji idu u Frisco
Zabok
Lyon
nitko ne ide u Korenicu
i pita ih
zašto smo tako siromašni?
njegov mozak radi
radi
bilo tko to može vidjeti
naša djeca rastu i odlaze
na cestu
ispred kafića Charlie
na stotine ljudi
zagleda u motor našeg novog automobila
i govore, pljujući
more nešto govori u sebi
i nebo je čisto, mračno
naš automobil ispred kuće radi na minimumu
radi
ništa se ne vidi
evo čitavu noć sanjamo golubove
i katedrale
kao da nismo bili komunisti
i, zašto bi nekoga pitao?
Isus sjeda u naš automobil
i nijem vozi cijelu noć
meni je podne zakon
tad me zovu mobitelom
ustajem
ništa ja ne vidim od svjetla
jer sam gotički čip
a on popravlja retrovizor
prstima prolazi kroz kosu
i pita stopere koji idu u Frisco
Zabok
Lyon
nitko ne ide u Korenicu
i pita ih
zašto smo tako siromašni?
njegov mozak radi
radi
bilo tko to može vidjeti
naša djeca rastu i odlaze
na cestu
ispred kafića Charlie
na stotine ljudi
zagleda u motor našeg novog automobila
i govore, pljujući
© 2012, Robert Perišić
From: Jednom kasnije
Publisher: Sandorf, Zagreb
From: Jednom kasnije
Publisher: Sandorf, Zagreb
Poems
Poems of Robert Perišić
Close
with my girlfriend I’m dreaming about ghosts on the terrace
with my girlfriend I’m dreaming about ghosts on terracesea mumbles for itself
and the sky is clear, and dark
our car outside the house runs at idle
it runs
you can see nothing else
but we are dreaming about pigeons all night
and cathedrals
as if we were never communists
and, why should you ask?
Jesus sits in our car
and drives all night without a word
to me, the noon is the best
they call me on my cellphone
I'm getting up
light blinds me and I can't see
because I'm a gothic chip
and he fixes the rearview mirror
runs his hand through his hair
and asks hitchhikers on their way to Frisco
Zabok
Lyon
no one goes to Korenica
and he asks them
why are we so poor?
his brain works
works
anyone can see that
our children grow up and get
on the road
outside Charlie Café
hundreds of people
are looking at the engine of our new car
and they talk, they spit
© 2013, Milos Djurdjevic
From: Jednom kasnije
From: Jednom kasnije
with my girlfriend I’m dreaming about ghosts on the terrace
with my girlfriend I’m dreaming about ghosts on terracesea mumbles for itself
and the sky is clear, and dark
our car outside the house runs at idle
it runs
you can see nothing else
but we are dreaming about pigeons all night
and cathedrals
as if we were never communists
and, why should you ask?
Jesus sits in our car
and drives all night without a word
to me, the noon is the best
they call me on my cellphone
I'm getting up
light blinds me and I can't see
because I'm a gothic chip
and he fixes the rearview mirror
runs his hand through his hair
and asks hitchhikers on their way to Frisco
Zabok
Lyon
no one goes to Korenica
and he asks them
why are we so poor?
his brain works
works
anyone can see that
our children grow up and get
on the road
outside Charlie Café
hundreds of people
are looking at the engine of our new car
and they talk, they spit
© 2013, Milos Djurdjevic
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