From Mature Landscapes

by Goran Čolakhodžić


From Mature Landscapes

1

In the morning, space is not yet healed 
from people, from errands, as are not
the mucosa of the lustful,
and already we wait for the day to return,
for the void to be filled.
In the throat, on the eyes: the acridity of early dawn,
the necessity to move, to start off, the breaking away
from sleep, the clenched fist in the stomach
before coming to visit, before climbing
the stairs, washed with dirty water, that lead
to school    (as child, as teacher)
to hospital    (I fear)
to prison    (I remember the dread in my dreams).
And those bare columns oblige us in some way, somehow they say
“It’s not that simple”,
they pierce, they exhaust. In the morning,
when we most directly face illness 
and its finality, 
when the bare dawn in our lungs
comforts us most and makes the harshest demands.*

Translated from the Croatian, or written in English by the Author