The Ribs of Quiet Change

by Evelina Rudan


The Ribs of Quiet Change

Now and again it happens

someone declares anathema.

Anathema on seashells,

anathema on windows,

anathema on backyards,

with the trees

or paved one, in concrete,

whatever.

Thus we had the anathemas

on bones, oranges, pots and pans

plates, spoons, lawnmowers.

And, here, this last one, on fragrant pansies.

But I never minded the one on seashells,

since I don't eat them.

Nor the one on windows,

since I've got mine.

Nor the one for backyards,

what do I need it for

when I don't have a backyard..

Never minded the bones, plates, spoons, and lawnmowers.

I even thought it quite dumb,

sorry to say,

thought they'll figure it out.

But now, these pansies,

it bothers me,

I can't do without them.

I can't have my favorite scent,

I can't receive them for birthdays,

I can't draw them to a child,

I can't modestly put them away.

Not even a  poem can I write without them, well, that I cannot.

© translated by Boris Gregorić

Rebra tihe promjene

Bude tako svako malo

pa neko proglasi anatemu.

Anatemu na školjke,

anatemu na prozore,

anatemu na dvorišta,

ona s drvećem

ili ona asflatirana, betonirana,

svejedno.

Bile su tako već te anateme

na kosti, na naranče, na lonce

na tanjure, žlice i kosilice.

I, eto, sad ova na mirisave ljubice.

Ali nisam se bunila zbog školjki,

njih ne jedem.

Ni zbog prozora,

imam svoje.

Ni zbog dvorišta,

što će mi dvorište,

a i nemam ga.

Ni zbog kosti, tanjura žlica i kosilica.

Mislila sam to je tako glupo,

žalibože riječi,

već će valjda vidjeti.

Ali sad,  ove ljubice,

one me muče,

Bez njih ne mogu.

Ne mogu mi raditi omiljeni parfem,

ne mogu mi poklanjati rođendane,

ne mogu ih ne crtati djetetu,

ne mogu ih sklanjati uz skromnost.

Ni pjesmu napisati bez njih, eto, ne mogu.

© Evelina Rudan