a portraIT

by Alen Brlek


a portraIT

These are domes. Eye orbits. Mouldage. Stoves.
Those over there are temples, they say, in which a circle
has opened up into bread and drowned the world.
They say colours arose, and man was doused, birthed,
hands were bored into and gilded in unison.
That over there – the lunaffection – weaves bones
and vibrates at night like warm flesh
watered with gunpowder. It hurts, they say,
primevally.

 

Translated from the Croatian by Mirza Puric

PORTRET

To su šume, u valovima,
ugodno tamne. Kažu, tko prespava u tim šumama
ujutro vidi dva neba 
i može razgovarati s vodom.
Kažu duboko pod šumom golub,
gukne svaki put kad padne stablo. A padaju svaku noć,
precizno, prokrvljeno, i po njih dolaze
narodi iz dalekog svemira.
Kažu ima i brda. 
Tu su nekada djeca kopala tunele
i sada vibriraju, visoko i majčinski. 
Kažu zato i dolaze ovi narodi. Zove ih. Čuju.