On the deck

by Ana Brnardić


On the deck

I lean over the ferry deck.

The wind snatches two locks of hair wildly flapping across the face.

The hood with fake fur is twice as thin as a petal.

This ordinary body is swarming with birds and bees,

Mother-bears with their young as well as coots and some other nondescript creatures.

There is no one on the deck yet it is noisy.

The unshackled tyrants walk about rustling their oversized sheepskins.

Their beards look thin against the wind – like an avalanche. 

 

Underneath the deck, beneath the stairs two are having coffee.

I am halfway there, an empty cup with the remains of a cold espresso.

My breath, my gift of speech and movement, mercy, is still halfway there.

One of them took off his coat. There is a hot stain on his forehead.

I left to see what the reflection on the sea surface will have to say,

Is it enough just to step aside a little bit

Otherwise the foam will smash you against its own bones.

© translated by Damir Šodan

Paluba

Naginjem se preko ograde trajekta.

Vjetar uzima dva pramena koja divlje palucaju preko lica.

Kapuljača s lažnim krznom tanja je od latice.

U tom običnom tijelu rastrčale su se ptice i pčele,

medvjedice s mladima, liske i još neka štura bića.

Na palubi nema nikoga, ali je buka.

Hodaju oslobođeni titani, škripe prevelikim kožusima.

Na vjetru im brade izgledaju krhko, kao lavina.

 

Pod palubom, ispod stuba, dvojica piju kavu.

Još sam dopola ondje, prazna šalica s par kapi hladnog espresa.

Moj dah, dar govora i pokreta, milost, još je dopola tamo.

Jedan od njih skinuo je kaput. Na čelu mu je vruća mrlja.

Otišla sam da bih vidjela što će reći odraz u moru,

je li dovoljno samo malo udaljiti se

ili će te pjena ipak razbiti o vlastite kosti.

© Ana Brnardić