Airport

High above pages of the sky rustle

Down below a customs officer wants your fingerprint

The stamp of your family-tree

On your tourist visa application.

 

The yellow Balkan moon shines across my face.

I forgot to turn it off as we flew over the ocean.

 

The family next to me has more experience.

They hid their sad pentatonic up their sleeve:

Showering the official at the counter

With a healthy dose of Californian smiles.

 

Behind the barricade, cheerful old people

with candy-floss haircuts

extend their arms to take me to heaven.

© translated by Damir and Majda Šodan

Aerodrom

U visini listaju se štampane stranice neba.

Dolje carinik traži otisak prsta

pečat rodnog stabalca

na papiru za turističku vizu.

 

U licu mi sjaji žuti balkanski mjesec.

Zaboravila sam ga ugasiti iznad oceana.

 

Obitelj pored mene ima više iskustva.

Tužnu pentatoniku skrili su u rukav.

Službeniku podastiru ogromne količine

kalifornijskog osmijeha.

 

Iza barikade nasmiješeni starci

s frizurama od šećerne vune

pružaju mi ruke i vode me u raj.

© Ana Brnardić