Poetry International Poetry International
Gedicht

Mario Suško

PREMOŠĆIVANJE

kad god           trepnem
                  pamćenje me goni
čopor nesmiljenih divljih pasa
ustremljenih na moj grkljan
gdje besplućni slogovi sanjaju
o rici
                  dok oni
                  isplaženih jezika
                  čine se nijemi
sjenama  
oblaka
kojima se vjetar poigrava

                  ovo nisam ja
                  ovo nije zbilja
                  opetovano govorim
inim životinjama
s one strane gaze
što ravnodušno pasu dalje

                  pogled je moj
prikovan na vlastitu mi sjenu već uhvaćenu
noge joj u zraku
poput onih mojega drvenoga konja
nakon što sam jednim zamahom ruke
boj odlučio dobiti

sad ako stanem
ne maknem se i ne trepnem okom
               hoće li me pretrčati
i ja znati
što se imalo zbiti
       moralo se zbiti

                  komadi stakla u mojem obrazu
                  smrad puščana praha u nosnicama
                  bljesak svjetla u zjenicama

sve to dostatno
da ruka           okrene
stranicu
                  i preda sve
zaboravu

SPANNING

SPANNING

each time          I blink
                    memories hunt me
a pack of relentless wild dogs
after my throat
where lungless syllables dream
of roaring
                    while they
                    their tongues stuck out
                    seem but silent
shadows
of the clouds
the wind plays with

                    this is not me
                    this is not real
                    I keep repeating
to other animals
behind the gauze
that graze on indifferently

                     my eyes are fixed
on my own shadow already overtaken
its legs up in the air
like those of my wooden horse
after I with one sweep of my hand
decided to win the battle

now if I stop
do not move and do not wink
                    will they run by and ahead
and I know
what was to happen
      will have happened
                    the glass shards in my cheeks
                    the powder odor in my nostrils
                    the light blaze in my pupils

enough to make
a hand             flip
the page

                     and
                    relegate everything to
fugue
Mario  Suško

Mario Suško

(Kroatië, 1941)

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SPANNING

each time          I blink
                    memories hunt me
a pack of relentless wild dogs
after my throat
where lungless syllables dream
of roaring
                    while they
                    their tongues stuck out
                    seem but silent
shadows
of the clouds
the wind plays with

                    this is not me
                    this is not real
                    I keep repeating
to other animals
behind the gauze
that graze on indifferently

                     my eyes are fixed
on my own shadow already overtaken
its legs up in the air
like those of my wooden horse
after I with one sweep of my hand
decided to win the battle

now if I stop
do not move and do not wink
                    will they run by and ahead
and I know
what was to happen
      will have happened
                    the glass shards in my cheeks
                    the powder odor in my nostrils
                    the light blaze in my pupils

enough to make
a hand             flip
the page

                     and
                    relegate everything to
fugue

PREMOŠĆIVANJE

kad god           trepnem
                  pamćenje me goni
čopor nesmiljenih divljih pasa
ustremljenih na moj grkljan
gdje besplućni slogovi sanjaju
o rici
                  dok oni
                  isplaženih jezika
                  čine se nijemi
sjenama  
oblaka
kojima se vjetar poigrava

                  ovo nisam ja
                  ovo nije zbilja
                  opetovano govorim
inim životinjama
s one strane gaze
što ravnodušno pasu dalje

                  pogled je moj
prikovan na vlastitu mi sjenu već uhvaćenu
noge joj u zraku
poput onih mojega drvenoga konja
nakon što sam jednim zamahom ruke
boj odlučio dobiti

sad ako stanem
ne maknem se i ne trepnem okom
               hoće li me pretrčati
i ja znati
što se imalo zbiti
       moralo se zbiti

                  komadi stakla u mojem obrazu
                  smrad puščana praha u nosnicama
                  bljesak svjetla u zjenicama

sve to dostatno
da ruka           okrene
stranicu
                  i preda sve
zaboravu
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