I have an unsolved issue
I have an unsolved issue with the city,
that is, I think that during the day we’re unable
to tell each other everything. I make up for it, willy
or nilly, at night, when the hedges draw closer
and the hills start rolling beneath my feet.
There is usually a lot of drives streets vaults arcades
also a lot of bronze, made green by the wet darkness
in the rarely mown parks.
It keeps sending me on errands from façade to façade
by inconveniently connected tram lines
and often it spells out the names of buildings and squares
in completely arcane languages.
It rolls me down sidewalks, chucks me over to entrances,
hiding, nonetheless, its inner courtyards –
the proof that it can dream lucidly, if I
clamber where I have to through passages and underpasses.
And then in the morning it makes me laugh
and deride, because I know that it multiplies braggingly
in me all night long, pulling wool over my eyes, blaring propaganda,
trying to appear larger blacker deeper
to build itself endlessly, illusively in vain.
Translated from the Croatian, or written in English by the Author