CASA

Here we held a night one literary evening
In a land they call beautiful and cursed, and perhaps it is;
We raised a house the old way, poem on poem
Ice in wine melted the night and morning shifts.
 
That house takes place on a plantation of organic sorrow
Where the heirloom weed of confusion and of the other
Joy of existence through absence is domesticated
While isolations nurture a fellow-traveling fidelity.
 
Here we conceived an evening whereas the cups made love
With Spanish tiles, with green music, the entire world
Emerged begotten with desires from inside, outside
Motorized wildlife passed around blood for the daily papers.
 
David recited Eliot, Biserka was strewing Wisława;
Sprinkled with sweat we listened as he told us Livada;
Ana kicked off her shoes to tango for a golden fish;
There were dedications. Ivana’s lotus breath came up a shell.
 
That evening found its sea and the age of Aquarius,
The women flung African flowers from their dresses,
India arrived, a Brazilian round dance spun like a thistle,
A dog strolled in, a tomcat sat down on the mat.
 
Myths dropped by with a breather, paradise and Babylons,
In a free twist of agitated words and natures;
The Danube hooted under tossed plastic bottles, drowned.
There were confessions. A long chained serenade reached the Nile.
 
The experience, brah, lures happenings! — At the camera Bane
Watched the secret contacts of random and regulated steps.
I danced with an Inca, Anatolia’s smiles perfumed the friends
A stranger sent with a gesture of wine from the Cape of Good Hope.
 
That house remained our history, religion, map, an uninterrupted frigate
Though only once, and maybe not even then? at the counter a debate:
Was the waiter’s name Ricardo or Roberto? With the eyes of a toreador
Rafaelo lured the bull or else some name of passion above passions:
 
Without a street sign, a number, regardless of the city,
We settled into the greatest builder’s forms with colors:
Of the master craftsman who can outplay a banned look:
Intimacy pours out an instant of mutual ice cubes.

CASA

CASA

Tu smo pravili veče jedne večeri književne
U zemlji kažu lepoj i ukletoj a možda jeste;
Podizali kuću po starinski pesma na pesmu
Na vino led stopio noćnu i jutarnju smenu.
 
Biva ta kuća sred plantaža organske tuge
Gde korov nasleđene smušenosti i druge
Radosti postojanja odsustvom se odomaće
Dok vernost saputničku uzgajaju samoće.
 
Tu smo pravili veče a čaše su vodile ljubav
Sa španskim pločicama, zelenom muzikom, sav
Svet zbio se željama začet sa strane unutrašnje, van
Motorna divljač razdavala krv za dnevne novine.
 
David je recitovao Eliota, Biserka prosula Vislavu;
Znojem poprskani slušali kako nam on kaže Livadu;
Ana je hitnula cipele, zaigrala tango za zlatnu ribicu;
Beše posvećenosti. Ivana dahom lotosa izronila školjku.
 
To veče je našlo svoje more i dobâ vodolija,
Žene su bacale afričke cvetove sa haljina,
Stigla je Indija, zavrteo se brazilski čačak,
Ušetao je pas, na otirač priseo mačak.
 
Popadaše mitovi s oduškom, raj i Vaviloni
U slobodnom plesu izmirenih reči i naravi;
Dunav je pustio glas ispod odbačenih boca, utopljenika.
Beše ispovesti. Dugo sputavana stigla serenada do Nila.
 
Doživljaj, brate, mani događaje! – Bane je iza aparata
Posmatrao tajne dodire nasumičnih i propisanih koraka.
Plesala sam s Inkom, osmesi Antalije namiriše prijatelje
Odaslate gestom vina od neznanog sa Rta Dobre Nade.
 
Ta kuća osta naša istorija, religija, mapa, neprekidna fregata
Iako samo jednom, a možda ni tada? za šankom beše debata
Da li se kelner zove Rikardo ili Roberto? Očima toreadora
Rafaelo je mamio bika ili već neko ime strasti nad strastima:
 
Bez naziva ulice, broja, nezavisno od grada
Nastanili smo bojama oblike najvećeg zidara:
Majstora koji ume da nadigra zabran pogleda:
Prisnost izlije čas uzajamnosti kockica leda.