Flatlands

by Ana Brnardić


Flatlands

Travellers sit carefully

On the fake leather benches taking off their coats with the colours

Of blueberry and dry grass

The train stumbles into the night like a blind shepherd

 

Darkness swiftly invades the compartment from all corners feeding itself

On our listlessness

Soon – in half an hour – we will glue our faces to the window panes

Overtaken by some strange belief

That through that anonymous forest

Following our desires and sentiments, roe deer, birds and other creatures awoken

Among the trees will be running along with our train

 

Upon the conductor’s sign, exhausted by this phantom race

Our heads will sink into sleep

 

The soft and black flatlands

Bears bumps budding with electric cities

Of the night.

© translated by Damir Šodan

Ravnica

Putnici oprezno sjedaju

na klupe od skaja odlažući kapute boje kupine i suhe trave

Vlak posrće u noć poput slijepog pastira

 

U kupeu iz uglova suklja mrak koji se hrani bezvoljom

Uskoro ćemo, za pola sata, svi ujednom sljubiti lica uz prozore

u vlasti čudne vjere

da uz vlak, kroz anonimnu šumu

prateći naše osjećaje, čežnje, trče srne, divlje ptice

i bića koja se bude iz stabala

 

Na znak dirigenta, izmučene utrkom utvara

glave klonu u san

 

Mekana i crna ravan

dobiva ispupčine na kojima cvatu

noćni električni gradovi.

© Ana Brnardić