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More, o more
1989.
u yugoslaviji
je konačno otkriven hamburger.

kristalna podmornica
izronila je noću kada je krizirao uštap i
ugledala, dugo gledala dubrovnik
sasvim nadomak svoje dobrostive usne.

svi su mornari
odmah pisali kući
svi su ti razgovori
odmah snimljeni na steriliziranu magnetofonsku vrpcu.
tada je jedan od njih doplivao do obale
i obrisao tu jednu jedinu suzu, vino amaro,
što je stoljeće po stoljeće
padala niz gradske zidine noću
kada se na pučini vidi 80 milijardi križeva
u samo jednome tvome amenu, o more!

ja sam svila prodana udaljenim glasovima, kopča u
žaluzini jednoga tako udaljenog dana.
na unutrašnjoj stijenki školjkinoga doma
napisano je proročanstvo o nama.
moj se grob vidi s krova toga grada, more
zašto te ne spale?

na kuli minčeti
nije bilo nikoga
ni tada ni sada
da zapleše na usijanome ugljevlju
i tako se naruga zrikavcima
čije su glasnice bile barbarske karavane
u kojima su se umivali i noćili
svi naši prosjaci.

u podne, na griču
top ispali tešku željeznu kuglu
koja je izorala očeva polja.

ukrast ću vrećicu juhe
i od nje si žlicu po žlicu
kupinu po kupinu
flash po flash
udahnuti nešto od te katarke o more
give me more
na tračnicama od dobro natopljene vate.

potom ćemo skupa
ti i ja
pročitati pismo
koje nam je netko
napisao na crnoj zastavi
njenoj jedinoj večernjoj haljini
poslano odavno

od usne do usne u tek načetoj boci.
Sea, oh sea
in 1989
yugoslavia
finally discovered the hamburger.

a crystal submarine
surfaced at night when the full moon was flipping,
it saw dubrovnik and glued its gaze to its towers for the longest time,
so close to its benevolent lips.

all the sailors
wrote home immediately
all those conversations
were recorded immediately on the sterilized magnetic tape.
and then one of them swam to the shore
to wipe away that one single tear, vino amaro,
that century by century
was falling down the city walls by night
when on the horizon you can see 80 billion crosses
in just one of yours amen, oh sea!  

I’m the silk sold to distant voices, the buckle in
Venetian blinds of a day so distant.
our prophecy was written
on the inside wall of the shell’s home.
my tomb could be seen from the roof of that city, oh sea
why can’t they burn you down?

but there was nobody
then or now
on the minčeta tower
who would dance on the red-hot coal
and mock crickets
whose voices were barbaric caravans
where all our beggars
washed and slept.

at noon, the cannon on the grič tower
fires a heavy iron ball
that ploughed through my father’s fields.

I will steal a bag of soup
and spoon by spoon,
berry by berry
flash by flash,
I will inhale some of it,
some of its mast, oh sea,
give me more
on the railways of well-watered cotton.  

and then
you and I
together will read the letter
that someone wrote to us
on the black flag
her only evening gown
sent a long time ago

from mouth to mouth in a brand new bottle.