Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Dorta Jagić

Flying Stones

where did you get that pebble in your belly you can fly with?  
for that pebble I fell in love with you.  
winters and summers you are driving to work
with your long hair loose from its bun  
and in the spring you’ll stop and sway on the place
where the sorrel stalk was broken.  
and you are doing nothing at all;  
just looking like a river air larva.  
in those days I dream that I’m wrapping your face with a wedding veil  
and cuddling you with the breathing feather, or
with my bare feet I am turning the handle of  
the old-fashioned coffee grinder        
and kissing you, kissing until I’ve ground all those black beads  
into fragrant dust

Kamenje za letenje

Kamenje za letenje

odakle ti samo taj kamenčić u trbuhu pomoću kojega letiš?
u taj sam te kamenčić zavoljela.
zimi i ljeti odvoziš se na posao
svojom dugom punđom na rasplitanje
a u proljeće staneš i zaljuljaš se na mjestu
gdje se stabljika kiselice slomila.
i ne činiš baš ništa;
samo sličiš ličinki riječnog zraka.
u te dane sanjam kako ti lice uvijam u svadbeni veo
i milijem ga perom koje diše ili
kako bosim nogama okrećem ručicu starinskog mlina za kavu
i ljubim te, ljubim sve dok sva ta crna zrna
ne izmeljem u mirisni prah
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Flying Stones

where did you get that pebble in your belly you can fly with?  
for that pebble I fell in love with you.  
winters and summers you are driving to work
with your long hair loose from its bun  
and in the spring you’ll stop and sway on the place
where the sorrel stalk was broken.  
and you are doing nothing at all;  
just looking like a river air larva.  
in those days I dream that I’m wrapping your face with a wedding veil  
and cuddling you with the breathing feather, or
with my bare feet I am turning the handle of  
the old-fashioned coffee grinder        
and kissing you, kissing until I’ve ground all those black beads  
into fragrant dust

Flying Stones

where did you get that pebble in your belly you can fly with?  
for that pebble I fell in love with you.  
winters and summers you are driving to work
with your long hair loose from its bun  
and in the spring you’ll stop and sway on the place
where the sorrel stalk was broken.  
and you are doing nothing at all;  
just looking like a river air larva.  
in those days I dream that I’m wrapping your face with a wedding veil  
and cuddling you with the breathing feather, or
with my bare feet I am turning the handle of  
the old-fashioned coffee grinder        
and kissing you, kissing until I’ve ground all those black beads  
into fragrant dust
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
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