WITHOUT WAKING YOU

In my hand I clutch the silence, all else is only seeming,
the clutch too tight, the fabric
too precious. And while I spread it out,
it slips from the numbed body, its temporary
home. It is night, and I only want to sleep.
The day’s moved out, as if I had thieved it for myself,
without touching it I leave no traces,
I stalk the unseen; did I get up,
wipe sweat from my forehead, open the window,
look at the skies, did I fit into all that?
In silence, my tongue wounded like my body,
deadly calm I pass over all,  
remove, enraptured by an ease which has no mark.
The door must be well closed,
everything in its place, untouched,
images of fragility, all that could be gathered
will come together in the clutch. Endlessly turning them,
as though I were in my prettiest dress before a mirror,
I can leave time enough for life,
life enough for time. By silence, I repeat,
I recognise the words, their death delayed
as though I have been sitting in the dark a long, long time,
it is night, and I only want to sleep.

Ne budeći te

Ne budeći te

Šutnju, sve drugo se samo pričinja,
stišćem u ruci, prejak stisak, odveć
plemenita tkanina. I dok je prostirem,
klizi s utrnulog tijela, privremenog
boravišta. Noć je, i samo bih htjela spavati.
Dan izmješten, kao da sam ga samoj sebi ukrala,
ne dodirujem, ne ostavljam tragove,
uhodim nevidljive, jesam li ustajala,
brisala znoj sa čela, otvarala prozor,
gledala u nebo, jesam li svemu tome pristajala?
Šutnjom, jezik ranjen kao tijelo,
spokojno od umora, prelazim preko svega,
oduzimam, ushićena lakoćom u kojoj nema tragova.
Vrata moraju biti dobro zatvorena,
sve mora biti na svome mjestu, netaknuto,
slike krhkosti, doći će u stiješnjenosti
svega što se moglo nakupiti. Vrteći ih neprestano,
kao da sam pred zrcalom u najljepšoj haljini,
mogu ostaviti dovoljno vremena za život,
dovoljno života vremenu. Šutnjom, ponavljam,
prepoznajem riječi mrtve s odgodom,
kao da sam dugo, dugo sjedila u tami,
noć je, i samo bih htjela spavati.