Tekel sem po Vasenki, moje obleke v prevleki za blazino,
iskal sem človeka, ki mi je čisto podoben,
da bi mu lahko dal svojo Sonjo, svoje ime, svoje obleke.
Tekel sem po Vasenki, moje ustnice so se premikale,
eden tistih, ki jih v beg požene tramvaj, ki se razpoči kot čreva na soncu,
eden tistih, ki zaklepajo vrata z rezervnim ključem,
in eden tistih, ki jecljajo, ko skušajo govoriti.
Žena kriči, kakor da rojeva & je rojevala.
Tekel sem mimo izložbenih oken, kjer so ženske kupovale limone in ribe in česen,
na desni je gospa Gornik slikala ikone, ki jih je prodajala ob jutrih,
na levi je živela Veronina, mati dveh fantov,
ki je kradla paradižnikove sendviče svojima fantoma.
Jecljali smo in pili in se smejali kot bosonogi kmetje,
smo pa pili tudi tiho, preklinjajoč le zemljo, in potihoma
delali vodko iz češenj, delali vodko iz lesenih stolov.
Začelo se je: vzpenjajo se na tramvaje
na tatinskem trgu, razbijajo
vse svoje trenutke na pol. In vojaški oficirji
z ropotajočih tramvajev streljajo na obraze naših sosedov,
streljajo v njihovih ušesih. In oficir reče: Fantje! Punce!
Zgrabite svojega partnerja v plesnem koraku. Streljajte.
Začelo se je: videl sem, kako modri kanarček moje domovine
pobira drobtine z las slehernega vojaka,
pobira drobtine iz oči slehernega vojaka.
Dež zapušča zemljo in pada naravnost gor, kot je tudi prav.
Tako pomembno, imeti domovino, se zaletavati v zidove, ulične svetilke, se zaletavati v ljubljene, kot je tudi prav.
Glej njihove noge, ko tečejo in padajo.
Videl sem, kako modri kanarček moje domovine
opazuje njihove noge, ko tečejo in padajo.
Iz angleščine prevedel Goran Dekleva.
Running down Vasenka street my clothes in a pillowcase
I was looking for a man who looks exactly like me
so I could give him my Sonya, my name, my clothes.
Running down Vasenka street with my lips moving,
on e of those who run from the trolley that bursts like an intestine in the sun,
those who lock the door lock it with the second key,
and those who try to speak, stutter.
A wife screams as if she were in labor & she was in labor.
Running by windows where women bought lemon and fish and garlic,
to the right madame Gornik painted icons sold at morning,
to the left lived Veronina, mother of two boys
who stole tomato sandwiches from her boys.
We stuttered and drank and laughed like barefoot peasants
and also drank quietly, damning only the earth and quietly
made vodka from cherries, made vodka from wooden chairs.
It has begun: they climb the trolleys
at the thief market, breaking
all their moments in half. And the army officers
in the clanging trolleys shoot at our neighbors’ faces
and in their ears. And the army officer says: Boys! Girls!
take your partner two steps. Shoot.
It has begun: I saw how the blue canary of my country
picks breadcrumbs from each soldier’s hair
picks breadcrumbs from each soldier’s eyes.
Rain leaves the earth and falls straight up as it should.
To have a country, so important to run into walls, into streetlights, into loved ones, as one should.
Watch their legs as they run and fall.
I have seen the blue canary of my country
watch their legs as they run and fall.