Sebastopol

by Ivan Šamija


Sebastopol

The moment when you leave me sunflowers emerge

(this is that innocuous fleetingness, there are fragments of time wherein the narrative  thread never gets cut short)

It has come to this, it implied walking, the present perfect of mud,

We were followed by the village stray dogs, particles of reality for which there is no space in a poem

(refusal of hermeneutic symmetry as a zero point of modesty, I’m leaving something out for the poem to be completed, I leave out for... love)

Autumn means the description of an interior, this poem is a description of an event

The Sunflowers

You are returning into the event

Your repeated insertion into the scene, so gentle

Like train sliding down the railway track

Like a narrative that seeks the type of a reader invented by Turgenev

(such pretence in a poem is punishable)

Now I can write down that the initial crystallization of the dawn, the dew, seeps into sight and finally that your hair

That it is contained only in those dew-drops, that it had already been described by Turgenev

(now love is no longer possible, but the poem can be completed nevertheless) 

I am again catching the event seemingly into a butterfly net

(what is a gesture in a poem in reality is a word) 

Sebastopol, Sebastopol, Sebastopol

how far is Sebastopol,

when I write down far – I think of a journey by train, of horses sliding across

the steppe, of distance that is in time, of past being a blur that your hair creates inside of the event,

this poem is a description of an event,

distance is the method of poetry,

poetry is Sebastopol and the distance created when I write down – Sebastopol,

the sunflowers return into the scene, but now they are sliding into the background, your hair is in the foreground,

this poem may eventually complete itself

© translated by Damir Šodan

Sevastopolj

U trenutku kada me napuštaš izranjaju suncokreti

(ovo je ona bezazlena privremenost, postoje fragmenti vremena u kojima se narativna nit nikada ne prekida)

do ovoga smo došli, bilo je hodanje, perfekt blata

pratili su nas seoski psi lutalice, dijelovi stvarnosti za koje nema mjesta u pjesmi

(odbijanje hermeneutičke simetrije kao nulta točka skromnosti, izostavljam da bi se pjesma dovršila,  izostavljam da...ljubav)

jesen je opis interijera, ova pjesma je opis događaja

suncokreti

vraćaš se u događaj

tvoje ponovno smještanje u prizor, tako blago,

kao klizanje željeznice,

kao pripovijedanje koje traži čitatelja kakvog izmišlja Turgenjev

(ovakva pretencioznost u pjesmi se kažnjava)

sada mogu napisati da početna kristalizacija zore, da rosa, da sipi u pogled, i konačno da tvoja kosa,

da je samo u toj orošenosti, da ju je već opisao Turgenjev

(sada više nije moguća ljubav, ali možda se pjesma ipak dovrši)

kao mrežom za leptire ponovo hvatam događaj

(ono što je u pjesmi gesta u stvarnosti je riječ)

Sevastopolj, Sevastopolj, Sevastopolj

koliko je udaljen Sevastopolj,

kada napišem udaljen mislim na putovanje željeznicom, na konji klize stepom, na udaljenost je u vremenu, na prošlost je zamućenost koju tvoja kosa stvara u događaju,

ova pjesma je opis događaja,

udaljenost je metoda poezije,

poezija je Sevastopolj i udaljenost koja se stvara kada napišem Sevastopolj,

suncokreti su ponovo u prizoru, ali sada klize u drugi plan, u prvom planu je tvoja kosa,

ova pjesma se možda ipak dovrši

© Ivan Šamija