Poem
Delimir Rešicki
(home for heavy-mental rehabilitation)
loathing and fear.tread and fingers are knitting the quiet madness of hands,
the tapestry of a lip.
always in crowds
(fear of entering, exiting, and the wall)
white into the wary, into a paint-distorted day.
they have nowhere to go but back, says the first voice:
drunken sperm pours madness into time, and
I hear them now, says the other voice:
they were walking for seven days,
washing their heads,
and dipping them into dark.
on the eighth morning,
they saw the plains.
© Translation: 2005, Miloš Đurđević and Damir Šodan
(dom za teško-mentalnu rehabilitaciju)
(dom za teško-mentalnu rehabilitaciju)
gađenje i strah.konac i prsti pletu mirno ludilo ruku,
tapiseriju usne.
uvijek u gomilama
(strah ulaza, izlaza i zida)
bijelo u brigu, oličenoizobličen dan.
oni nemaju kuda do natrag, kaže prvi glas:
pijana sperma lije ludilo u vrijeme, ja sada
čujem, veli drugi glas:
sedam su dana hodali i glave
kupali i uranjali u tmini.
osmo im se jutro
pokazala ravnica.
© 2000, Delimir Rešicki
From: Sretne ulice
Publisher: Meandar, Zagreb
From: Sretne ulice
Publisher: Meandar, Zagreb
Poems
Poems of Delimir Rešicki
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(home for heavy-mental rehabilitation)
loathing and fear.tread and fingers are knitting the quiet madness of hands,
the tapestry of a lip.
always in crowds
(fear of entering, exiting, and the wall)
white into the wary, into a paint-distorted day.
they have nowhere to go but back, says the first voice:
drunken sperm pours madness into time, and
I hear them now, says the other voice:
they were walking for seven days,
washing their heads,
and dipping them into dark.
on the eighth morning,
they saw the plains.
© 2005, Miloš Đurđević and Damir Šodan
From: Sretne ulice
From: Sretne ulice
(home for heavy-mental rehabilitation)
loathing and fear.tread and fingers are knitting the quiet madness of hands,
the tapestry of a lip.
always in crowds
(fear of entering, exiting, and the wall)
white into the wary, into a paint-distorted day.
they have nowhere to go but back, says the first voice:
drunken sperm pours madness into time, and
I hear them now, says the other voice:
they were walking for seven days,
washing their heads,
and dipping them into dark.
on the eighth morning,
they saw the plains.
© 2005, Miloš Đurđević and Damir Šodan
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