Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Zvonko Maković

Infinitive

When things are moved
only shadows remain.
Enforced silence,
cold air.
I told you I was a flower, a nocturnal breeze
that reaches the nostrils.
I told you: things, well coordinated
relations. I told you: shadows,
overabundance of love which once
was but unknown yearning.
Tiny, untouchable flickers
are touching my heart – incessantly,
without a clear reason.
Like a withered petal, like someone gazing
at a firefly in a fragrant night in June,
like soundless emptiness behind tightly
pressed lips.
In a moist look
our poorly concealed proofs
fall asleep,
our scant hopes,
and treasons hardly kept secret.
Blissful touches which are now
mere duration.
Among the shadows, other shadows hide.
A move will easily cause another move.
I am silence:
hidden words settle upon my forehead.

infinitiv

infinitiv

Kad se stvari pomaknu,
ostanu samo sjene.
Šutnja iz prinude,
hladan zrak.
Rekao sam ti da sam ruža, dašak noci
što dopire do nosnica.
Rekao sam: stvari, dobro uskladeni
odnosi. Rekao sam: sjene,
višak ljubavi koja nekoc
bijaše tek nepoznata žudnja.
Mali, nedodirljivi plamenovi
doticu moje srce – bez prestanka,
bez jasnog razloga.
Kao opala latica, kao netko zagledan
u krijesnicu mirisne lipanjske noci,
kao necujna praznina iza cvrsto
stisnutih usana.
U vlažnom pogledu
to se uljuljkuju naši slabo prikriveni
dokazi,
naše jedva još nade,
jedva prešutne izdaje.
Blaženi dodiri koji su sada tek
puko trajanje.
Medu sjenama skrivaju se druge sjene.
Pomak ce lako iznuditi drugi pomak.
Ja sam šutnja:
skrivena slova oblažu moje celo.
Close

Infinitive

When things are moved
only shadows remain.
Enforced silence,
cold air.
I told you I was a flower, a nocturnal breeze
that reaches the nostrils.
I told you: things, well coordinated
relations. I told you: shadows,
overabundance of love which once
was but unknown yearning.
Tiny, untouchable flickers
are touching my heart – incessantly,
without a clear reason.
Like a withered petal, like someone gazing
at a firefly in a fragrant night in June,
like soundless emptiness behind tightly
pressed lips.
In a moist look
our poorly concealed proofs
fall asleep,
our scant hopes,
and treasons hardly kept secret.
Blissful touches which are now
mere duration.
Among the shadows, other shadows hide.
A move will easily cause another move.
I am silence:
hidden words settle upon my forehead.

Infinitive

When things are moved
only shadows remain.
Enforced silence,
cold air.
I told you I was a flower, a nocturnal breeze
that reaches the nostrils.
I told you: things, well coordinated
relations. I told you: shadows,
overabundance of love which once
was but unknown yearning.
Tiny, untouchable flickers
are touching my heart – incessantly,
without a clear reason.
Like a withered petal, like someone gazing
at a firefly in a fragrant night in June,
like soundless emptiness behind tightly
pressed lips.
In a moist look
our poorly concealed proofs
fall asleep,
our scant hopes,
and treasons hardly kept secret.
Blissful touches which are now
mere duration.
Among the shadows, other shadows hide.
A move will easily cause another move.
I am silence:
hidden words settle upon my forehead.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère