Marija Dejanović, Croatia

Marija Dejanović, Croatia

The Poems

 

Concrete

My friends live in gaps between the wardrobe and the wall
that are impossible to reach
as I stretch my arms, a web of silence
enters my mouth; they are the shady silence of plaster
I tell her: choose a picture frame
and stick your scalp through its hollow body
push the supple roots of hair untouched by sun
sprinkled with flour

sneak out of his kitchen or jump through the window
from the tenth floor, you’ll land on the atoms of possibilities
like the ashen flowers in the district park

Your eyes: symbols for bursting, heavy breasts
sagging from your father’s eyes, from equine milk, and presents
that shed from your skin instead of your husband’s cruel lips

His words gather in your bellybutton
and crawl to your neck, like cypresses in the cemetery
and suddenly, instead of dust, it is you hanging from the chandelier

My friends are mine because they are no one’s
they only listen to themselves and touch only themselves
my friend is the table leg
whose splinter pierces your thumb while moving house

My friend: a small plastic ball
filled with brown fluid

My friend is a curly hair
in the drain of her throat

He tells her: together we drew boundaries
to clean furniture together
She tells him: it’s easy to fall apart, it’s hard
to pierce a pea with your fork

My friends are the first sorrows
whom I genuinely loved

They are the first to make decisions
and the only ones to carry them through

My friends are tall buildings
whose hands hold the foundations

My friends are an airplane
with concrete legs

(Translated by Hana Samaržija)

 

*

Cementna

Moji prijatelji žive u prostorima između ormara i zida
koje je nemoguće dosegnuti

Koliko god istezala ruke, paučinasta šutnja
ulazi u moja usta; moji su prijatelji tamna tišina kreča
Kažem joj: odaberi okvir za sliku
i promoli kroz njegovo prazno tijelo
svoje tjeme
mekano korijenje kose do koje sunce ne dopire
posuto brašnom

iskradi se iz njegove kuhinje ili skoči kroz prozor
s desetog kata
dočekat će te čestice mogućnosti
kao pepeljasto cvijeće kvartovskog parka

Tvoje oči: simboli za prepune, otežale grudi
obješene od očevog pogleda
konjskog mlijeka i poklona
koji su izostali s tvoje kože
umjesto muževih okrutnih usana

Njegove riječi skupljaju se u tvom pupku
preko trbuha penju se do vrata
te su riječi čempresi s groblja

i odjednom, umjesto prašine
ti si ono što visi s lustera

Moji su prijatelji moji jer nisu ničiji
jedino sebe slušaju, sebe dodiruju
i samo sa sobom plaču
Moj je prijatelj noga stola
čija se špranja zabada u meso kažiprsta
pri selidbi

Moj prijatelj: mala plastična kugla
ispunjena smeđom tekućinom

Moj je prijatelj kovrčava dlaka
u odvodu njezinog grla

Kaže joj: skupa smo stvarali granice
da možemo zajedno brisati namještaj
Kaže mu: lako je raspasti se, teško je
vilicom nabosti grašak

Moji su prijatelji prve tuge
koje sam mogla istinski voljeti

Oni će prvi donijeti odluke
i jedini ih dosljedno provesti

Moji su prijatelji visoke zgrade
koje se rukama drže za temelje

Moji su prijatelji avion
s cementnim nogama

* * *

Tracing Straight Lines

Yellow inertia of arrival
of fruits, apples, pears
sprouted from a stone that was dug in like a heel
swam out of water

All fruit is yellow
and appears only in hints
thickness of noon approaches us like a tame train
regularly, with delicate deviations
and warn us to be careful
with mild smiles
clean surfaces, and heated steel hearts
ready to smother snakes with shovels
and to seek them under every stone

She has fireproof hands, and
hides them in the oven like a snake hides its legs
stretches her neck, scalp and chin tracing straight lines
and searches the sky for scars
coming out the back of an airplane

She can’t burn herself on me
she can’t learn my name
Our irises are fixed within eyelashes
that calibrate like flower buds
buds of May
escorting heads and tails

I’m so happy to have you
you stole a part of the car so nobody could drive it
and now you are hitchhiking, wondering
whether it was worth it

Your grassy tongue hides lies
sweet, summery slights that enable you to love me

When you melt my name in your mouth
I’d swear it’s not my name
When your mouth kisses my cheek
I’d swear it’s not my cheek

(Translated by Hana Samaržija)

 

*

Pravilne linije

Žuta tromost dolaska
plodova drveća, jabuka, krušaka
izniknula je iz kamena ukopanog kao peta
isplivala iz vode

Svo je voće žuto
i pojavljuje se samo u naznakama
Debljina podneva prilazi nam kao pitomi vlak
redovito, s blagim odstupanjima
i upozorava nas da moramo biti oprezne
blago nasmiješene, čiste površine
i metalnog, zagrijanog srca
spremne da motikom zatučemo bjelouške
i u pretrazi prevrnemo svaki kamen

Ona ima vatrostalne ruke
skriva ih u pećnici kao zmija noge
isteže vrat, tjeme i bradu slijedeći pravilne linije
Prati na nebu male ožiljke
ispuštene iz stražnjice aviona

Ne može se na mene opeći
ne može mi saznati ime
Zjenice su nam fiksirane, uokvirene trepavicama
koje kalibriraju kao pupoljci
pupoljci svibanjski
pogledom ispraćaju noge i glave

Tako sam sretna što te imam
ukrala si dio auta samo da ga ne može nitko voziti
i sad autostopiraš, misleći što li mi je
sve to trebalo

Travnati ti jezik skriva laži
slatke ljetne preinake kako bi me više voljela

Kad u ustima topiš moje ime
zaklela bih se da je to neko drugo ime

Kad mi ustima ljubiš obraz
zaklela bih se
da to nije moj obraz