ALL THESE YEARS

The spoon we ate with
everyday, and you stealthily
melted out the bowl.
How come it fits so well now?
There was a man here not long ago,
who cherished my sentences:
You need to stand on this spot
and try everything.
How joyfully I open the door to you.
For you, for the first time, I frame
a safe interval between health and sickness.
The spoon which was mislaid,
all the morning under treatment, everything she held in silence.
Death has a dirty, white face
and was good for us, all these years.

Sve ove godine

Sve ove godine

Žlica kojom smo jeli
naše svakodnevno, a ti joj kradom
otapao dno.
Otkud sada tako pristala.
Neki je čovjek maloprije bio ovdje,
njegovao moje rečenice:
Na ovom mjestu moraš stati
i pokušati sve.
S kakvom ti radošću otvaram vrata.
Prvi put činim za tebe
sigurnu razdaljinu od zdravlja
do bolesti.
Žlica koja se bila zametnula,
liječeno jutro, sve njeno prešućeno.
Smrt ima bijelo, nečisto lice
i dobra nam je, sve ove godine.