qualche verso

(translations in English, Spanish, German, Slovenian, Croatian, Slovak)


Ora che tutto è deciso
L’aria si è fatta più spessa
Le gru hanno preso a cadere
I lupi hanno invaso le valli
Hai fatto i bagagli hai bruciato la casa
Ora che tutto è deciso
L’acqua ha inondato le vigne
I ponti hanno preso a saltare
Le rondini sfasciano i nidi
I vecchi ritornano in strada
Ciascuno si trova più solo di ieri
Ora che tutto è già stato deciso
Dici a tuo figlio di non aspettarti
E perdi parole e hai parole da dire
In fretta ti crescono alberi in gola
Hai sillabe aspre che sanno di resina
Le rughe ti corrono ripide in fronte
Essere pieni d’addio diceva tuo padre
Ora che tutto è già stato deciso
Penetri i campi attraversi i dirupi
Scuoti il sentiero depisti le pietre
Vegliare sui ceppi danzare tra i rovi
Stanare le ombre strisciare sui rami
Lavare le orme nei fiumi
Cospargersi il capo di cenere
Pianta la tenda nel baratro


Ti verrò in mente una domenica di fine estate
Mentre scopi con un uomo trasparente
Ti starà sopra come un cielo d’ottobre
Più entrerà dentro più uscirai fuori
Ti ricordi voglio solo dormire avevi detto
E dormimmo per settimane senza sosta
I nostri vicini ci davano per morti
Eppure non siamo mai stati così svegli


Se mi avessi detto abbi cura di me
Avrei trasformato il cancro in vino
E tutto il cancro a me tutto il vino a te
A me le tac le chemio le biopsie
I ceri accesi senza troppa convinzione
Gli elenchi del farò del non ho fatto ancora
L’ultima ora in piedi davanti alla soglia
A te i sintomi della gioia e tutto il resto


(English translation)

Love that are now no longer

love, collect your eyes

from the ground and lips and broken

nails on the bed and hair thick

in pipes and eyelashes

printed on glass and nipples

hanging from the ceiling and then leave.

Love that are now no longer

love, put back in the suitcase bones

and bundles of veins

hardened vessels and skin

dried in the garden and the vials

of blood and lactic acid

left in the cellar and then leave.

Love that are now no longer

love, remove from the walls

smells and silences and rupestral

drawings and ringmarks left

by fires and gaps dug

by fists and trails of messages

to encode and then leave.

Love that are now no longer

love, quickly forget

dedications and verses and poems

I’ve whispered you and murmurs

to put you to sleep and looks

of early morning and breaths

fixed to the cushions and then leave.

Love that are now no longer

love, deliver the porter

keys and locks and packs

of guard dogs and crys

while sleeping and nighttime escapes

on rooftops and exhausting struggles

with darkness and the dead and then leave.

Love that are now no longer

love, if you can wave goodbye

moons in the yard and lights

reflected on faces and leaves

fallen on wrists and shadows

grown in the grass and footprints

disappeared and wakings and then leave.

Love that are now no longer

love, scatter the mists

in wHich I forced you and the rains

in which I have collected you and the eclipses

from which I have rescued you and your time

that I no longer own and your name

I already don’t know, and then leave.

Love that are now no longer

love, turn into saline

land  that dries and bark

that burns in the summer and cliffs

that slide down and sweeps away and matter

that changes and becomes empty and disappears

into thin air and then move and leave.

Love that are now no longer

love, I ask you to tell me

if you still sigh and walk

on tiptoes and if you lose

words and if you bleed always

in the darkest  months and you remember

what the weather was that day.

Love that are now no longer,

reply if you can, then turn around, leave.

(translated by Daniela Sartogo)


And one day you wake up and wonder what am I doing amid this rubble

Thoughts flake off along my temples flow to the ground

How to resist and oppose those forces pushing and pressing bodies

Lifting landslides and reducing friction reversing the course of collapses

Hair thins out falls on your shoulders clogs up holes

Upside down you dig your head into the water, fade out and hold your breath

Breath in and out breath in and out breath in through your eyes and lungs

Setting fire to mirrors clearing the waste urging bacteria to fight

And one day you wake up and wonder what am I doing amid this rubble

You roll over consult maps seal drawers give back your keys to the ghosts

Walking on edges proceeding at a quick pace shunning greetings

How to jump ditches to glide on rivers to dance on river banks

Ankles bend tendons burn feet melt in the sun

Where to go if wherever you go nobody’s waiting for you

How many ways you must lose before losing yourself

And one day you wake up and you wonder what’s left

Of your father and mother no memory of whispers

to whom to make love and to offer your solitude

The nights are long in the morning what do you resemble

How to distinguish the dead from the living

How to fulfill the task of becoming human


That you must take more care of lonely men

Don’t call them by name nor shake their hands

Watch over them from the trees and wait for them behind bushes

Prevent them from entering sunsets rashly

That you must take more care of lonely men

Don’t ask them questions nor make them shiver

Visit them in winter listen to them sing in their sleep

Dim the lights leave doors half open

That you must take more care of lonely men

Remember them in their beds at the closing of eyes

Wish for them to complete their works

That you must take more care of lonely men

Secretly celebrate their death cremate them in the fields

Wait for the wind to scatter them in the sea


The man who fades into tables

Is a man who has lost his way

If he speaks he has mahogany words

He can’t see beyond corners

And smokes to pass the time

He feeds on stains he needs very little

He closes his eyelids with devotion

Turns a blind eye fades into corners

The man who fades into tables

Is a thin man who has lost his way

He lightly plunges into the gaps

He has no desires nor wounds

He stretches his arms once in a while

He consumes his lips as he clings to the corners

He says he has walked he is tired

He coughs gently and seldom washes

He has gnarled feet and roots which break stones

He climbs on walls and reaches the exit

Out of his mouth come commas and ellipses

He takes leave of the room he fades into lightning


Now that everything’s decided

The air has gotten thicker

Cranes have started to fall

Wolves have invaded the valleys

You have packed you have burned your house

Now that everything’s decided

The water has flooded the vines

Bridges have started to explode

Swallows undo their nests

Old people go back to the streets

Everyone is more lonely than yesterday

Now that everything’s decided

You tell your son not to wait for you

And you loose words and you have words to say

In a rush trees grow in your throat

You have harsh syllables tasting of resin

Your forehead is filled with steep wrinkles

To be full of farewells your father would say

Now that everything’s clear

You penetrate the fields you cross cliffs

You shake the tracks deviate stones

To keep watch over logs to dance among thorns

To hunt shadows out to creep along boughs

You wash footprints in rivers

To wear sackcloth and ashes

Pitch your tent in the chasm

(translated by Brunella Antomarini)


We hijack paper aeroplanes on windy days
The north wind takes us far away and the northwest wind 
makes us do a somersault
It is cold in the hold we freeze the eyes frost
We can’t see runways and landings are not planned
We cover ourselves with parcels- sheets and with blankets–
We lock glances but we don’t dare to speak
‘Cause the oxygen is little and the thought soon oxidizes
The jet that powerful spreads its song comforts us
And it is like the apnoea of the first swims in the swimming 
Or the face contorted on the window of the train leaving
We start to blow and blow thinking about the moon
If we could jump off clinging to some clouds with the nails
If we could say just once we had our head among the clouds

Every other day here houses fall down in all seasons
In the rubble we play hide and seek before the rescue operations
All’s out, the excavators sing and the gravediggers arrive
The crows write out the list of the missing persons with their trembling beaks

With bombs we practise ball control with the head the foot the hand
Pirouettes trips and passing until it falls to the ground
Fingers blow up it seems like on new year’s day
Everyone has the burst everyone has the jubilation of fires he 
Like streamers the fingers fall down each one at it’s own place
We hold hands tight and holding tight we wait for the morning 
to come
Limping we go back to our huts with less courage
And there is always somebody that arrives and controls and
 counts us and says to us
That in the camp you must be quiet you must sleep you must 
die even dreams are forbidden
We are wastes excess ruins of time rubbish burning
Why recycle us and who for recycle us what for
While he shouts in his eyes there are dozens of metres of  
barbed wire
With his wire we will make a rope reaching the vault of heaven
If we could say just once we had our heads among the clouds

Every other day here houses fall down in all seasons
In the rubble we play hide and seek before the rescue operations
All’s out, the excavators sing and the snipers shoot
The crows write out the list of the missing persons with their trembling beaks


We run aground in the rocks and carcasses of marine monsters
Trapped we wait for the other tide
Some fishing some praying some talking to the Pole Star
The mermaids don’t waste strokes of their tail for us
From the coast cries and light signals rise
The lighthouse keeper makes a sign to us to go away
Sharks pirates coastguard patrols
How many teeth does the shark have and how proud it is to 
show them

The frontier stands out against things and cuts them
Into two faces two glances two ways of batting eyelids

The lifeboats lower into the sea and reach safety
With the oars they light fires that warm the faces
Lost we rely on the helm and its good fortune
The sirocco pushes us we sweat and breath with difficulty
And in the salt that saturates the air we think about home
About the things left on the doorway and the customary
But among all the things the only one that doesn’t come to 
the mind is the land
The shark tears a man to pieces and is proud of the blood it 

The frontier stands out against things and cuts them
Into two faces two glances two ways of batting eyelids
Once they are cut the things develop partial shapes

Walking on the water debilitates shins and ankles
We march in a column avoiding the biggest waves
Land in sight is the sentence everyone would like to scream
Under the sun bodies are covered in sores and mirages
Like jonah by the dozen they let themselves go among the 
Refugees in the stomach of the fish we think about home
Helicopters ships and coastguard platoons
From the land we leave and to the land we will return

The frontier stands out against things and cuts them
Into two faces two glances two ways of batting eyelids
Once they are cut the things develop partial shapes
laconic orthogonal they wander away from one another

(translated by Janet L. Dubbini)


(Spanish translation)

Tendrás pocas cosas pero las tendrás:

la caspa en los tarritos, los mechones

de sebo, el pelo perdido en primavera.

La urna que me contendrá no la pongas

en el vestíbulo: destápala pronto, llénala

de viento, haz de ella un florero

de ciclones. Los vinos, descórchalos,

derrámalos por el suelo, inunda el pasillo:

invita a la fiesta al vecindario.

Tendrás pocas cosas pero las tendrás:

fiebres psicosomáticas, cirrosis

otoñales, ciáticas climáticas.

De mi colección de tumores

guarda los ejemplares más raros.

Un par de arritmias las he dejado

bajo el colchón de matrimonio:

arréglalas come puedas. Pero el infarto

bajo la almohada no, ése déjalo en paz.

Tendrás pocas cosas pero las tendrás:

el carteo con el enano, con el ogro,

con el viejo ciego del piso de abajo.

A los del circo no les digas nada,

llorarían demasiado. En mi lápida

escribe: aquí yace temporalmente

uno que estuvo a punto de salirse con la suya.

No añadas nada más.

Date la vuelta, aléjate rápidamente.

Tendrás pocas cosas pero las tendrás:

las multas de la biblioteca,

los marcapáginas de noche.

Te costará respirar

en verano. Más de siete, muchos, demasiados

serán los días de la semana.

Deshojarás calendarios como pétalos.

Construirás un columpio a escondidas

para buscarme en los toboganes.

Tendrás pocas cosas pero las tendrás:

los tenedores consumidos, los manteles

de cuadros, las migas bailarinas.

Las marejadas en las copas

no deberán asustarte,

ni los terremotos en la lavadora:

la paz vendrá después del funeral.

Poco a poco el apetito volverá.

Llegará el día en que no sabrás mi nombre.

Tendrás pocas cosas pero las tendrás:

en los marcos fotos no sacadas,

el claqué de los clavos en las paredes.

Quita las rejas de las ventanas,

que entren a robar.

A los ladrones llévales al tiovivo,

diviérteles hasta reventar,

luego cierra los ojos: cuenta hasta cien,

a ciento cincuenta los puedes abrir.

Tendrás pocas cosas pero las tendrás:

las monedas de chocolate,

la hucha con la fruta confitada.

No te olvides de la propina al cartero,

devuelve el correo al remitente.

Vacía la casa, regala las cosas

al hombre que vive enfrente.

Dormir sobre el mármol es bueno para la hernia.

Sé gordo, no pesado.

Tendrás pocas cosas pero las tendrás:

la mecedora de roble

para las decisiones importantes;

el taburete giratorio de acero

para tambaleantes fantasías;

el silloncito de haya

para los desmayos repentinos;

pero elegirás el sofá cama de piel,

el viejo, el de los bordes gastados.

Tendrás pocas cosas pero las tendrás:

los soldaditos de hojalata hambrientos

a marchas forzadas hacia la despensa.

Aliados tuyos serán los ositos

de peluche, los diccionarios de sinónimos

y contrarios, el papel pintado

de flores, media caja de puros

fumados. Las guerras las perderás

todas. Consolarás a los amotinados.

Tendrás pocas cosas pero las tendrás:

mapamundis adelgazados por las dietas,

mapas de carretera caducados.

Vivirás en trenes oxidados,

entre las redes de los pesqueros,

sobre las alas de los aviones.

Te preguntarán dónde está tu casa.

Responderás encogiéndote de hombros.

Pasará un instante y pensarás en mí.

Tendrás pocas cosas pero las tendrás:

las mosquiteras por desenrollar,

las colonias de polillas en los armarios.

Da de beber a las arañas del sótano.

Alimenta a las golondrinas en invierno.

Abre a las palomas la cocina.

Habla en el balcón a los girasoles.

Si tiene que venir, vendrá con el viento

la vocación.

Tendrás pocas cosas pero las tendrás:

Las bombillas fundidas,

La oscuridad, los fantasmas fosforescentes.

Con los ojos cerrados te pondrás en camino.

Vivirás bajo los puentes de día.

Pescarás al vuelo a la gente.

Llamarás a la luna desde los tejados.

Convertirás en nubes al humo.

Entre los gatos estarás solo, como un dios.

Tendrás pocas cosas, entre esas cosas

estaré yo.


Secuestramos aviones de papel en días de viento
Tramontana nos lleva lejos y mistral nos eleva
En la estiba hace un frío que hiela se congelan los ojos
No hay pistas a la vista ni aterrizajes previstos
Nos cubrimos con paquetes-sábana y manta-equipajes
Cruzamos las miradas sin atrevernos a hablar
Que el oxígeno es poco y el pensamiento se oxida pronto
Nos consuela el reactor que propaga con fuerza su canto
Y es como la apnea de los primeros chapuzones en la piscina
O el rostro contraído en el cristal del tren que parte
Nos ponemos a soplar a soplar pensando en la luna
Quién pudiera saltar agarrarse con las uñas a los cirros
Poder tener por una vez la cabeza entre las nubes

En días alternos aquí las casas se desploman en todas las estaciones
Entre los escombros se juega al escondite antes de los auxilios
Correquetepillo cantan las excavadoras y llegan los enterradores
Con trémulos picos los cuervos escriben la lista de los desaparecidos

Con las bombas hacemos pases de cabeza de pie de mano
Piruetas zancadillas y peloteos hasta que caen al suelo
En una explosión de dedos como cohetes de fin de año
A cada uno le toca su estallido a cada uno su alborozo de fuegos
Como serpentinas los dedos vuelven a caer cada uno a su sitio
Se estrechan las manos y apretándolas se espera el amanecer
Cojeando volvemos a nuestras chabolas con menos valor
Y siempre hay alguien que viene y controla y nos cuenta y nos dice
Que en el campo se calla se duerme se muere hasta soñar está prohibido
Somos escorias desechos ruinas del tiempo chatarra que arde
Reciclarnos para qué y para quién reciclarnos para hacer qué
Mientras grita tiene en los ojos decenas de metros de alambre de espino
Con su alambre haremos una cuerda que suba a la bóveda celeste
Poder tener por una vez la cabeza entre las nubes

En días alternos aquí las casas se desploman en todas las estaciones
Entre los escombros se juega al escondite antes de los auxilios
Correquetepillo cantan las excavadoras y llegan los enterradores
Con trémulos picos los cuervos escriben la lista de los desaparecidos

(traducido por Xenia Isabel Docio Altuna)


(German translation)

Welch ein Schneegestöber und wie wenig Schnee auf deinem Grab

als wäre dein Tod Feuer.

Ich brauche dich nicht. Du sagst mir nicht, wie es dort ist.

Du nervst mich mit deinem ständigen Mahnen, forderst

frische Geranien für deine Gold gezierte Vase, die mit dem

vergilbten Foto, als du noch Haare hattest.

Ich werde dir nicht sagen, wer nicht gekommen ist. Wer nicht geweint hat.

Wer schwarz gekleidet war. Frag doch, wie es mir zumute war.

Wie ich den Sarg auf der Schulter trug. Wie er auf mir lastete.

Ob ich bis zum Ende der Predigt ausgehalten habe.

Wo ich die erste Nacht geschlafen habe. Wie viel geschlafen.

Wann mir die Idee gekommen ist wegzugehen, ins Wasser,

in die Sümpfe, oder in die Breschen der Mauern

entlang des Tuffsteinpfades und der Hunde auf Zehenspitzen

Rad schlagend von Trullo zu Trullo bis eine Feige

mir unter den Sohlen nicht wie Seife zu Brei wird

und zwanzig Jahre hinterwärts kollern bis zu deiner Brust

mit geballter Faust. Dein Gebet hat es zu dem gemacht

was dann zu deinem Schlafrock geworden ist. Du bist nur Erde.

Du bist nichts als ein in einer Grube verscharrter Leib ohne Waffen.

Du entsinnst dich nicht jenes Mals, als sie mich mit ihren Nadeln

gestochen haben. Du hast mit dem kurzen Atem des Verräters

hinter der Tür zugesehen, der schwarze Odem des Partisanen

der seinen Anteil für ein Klaps getauscht hat und nur in tiefer Nacht

zwischen Magenkrämpfen und tauben Armen bereut. Du hast mich verloren

wie einen Eimer, der in den Brunnenschacht kracht,

wie einen Gedanken ans Böse oder an das, was bleibt

von Sehnsucht, die im Aufkeimen erstickt.

Noch vor dir lösen sich deine Verse auf.

Da draußen ist Frühling, blaue Städte,

Honig und Symphonien von Prachtbauten,

Flüsse von Milch, die sich auf die Plätze ergießen

und im Überschwang Leben auf den Dächern und in den Buden

und in allen Gassen quillt das Leben.

Du jedoch bist Winter und Herbst in einem

Du bist das vertrocknete, dürre Blatt, das abfallen muss,

fallen und immer wieder nur fällt.

Und ich werde nicht da sein, dich aufzulesen.

 (translated by Reinhard Kacianka)


Unsere Lichter das Licht der Vernunft und des Rechts dessen der immer im Recht ist

Sie haben uns kaum erleuchtet nur wenig mehr als die Totenlichter

Und du der hier die Liebe anruft sag mir was du damit erntest

Dir zerfallen die Worte du willst etwas sagen die Liebe ist tot die Liebe ist tot

Und legst du gewissenhaft Bomben in Banken was wirst du ernten

Und streikst du schreibst stilvolle Verse bereitest den Aufruhr vor tot ist die Liebe

Dieses Land der Väter und Paten der ehrbaren Familienoberhäupter

Dieses Land der Strickknoten Massengräber und internationalen Anleihen

Unsere Lichter das Licht der Vernunft und des Rechts des Rechts auf der Seite der Starken

Sie haben uns kaum erleuchtet fast gar nicht nur wenig mehr als die Totenlichter

Und läufst du auf Stacheldraht Fahnen schwenkend was wirst du ernten

Dir zerfallen die Worte du willst etwas sagen die Liebe ist tot die Liebe ist tot

Und bekehrst du die Bürokraten begräbst die Fanatiker was wirst du ernten

Und öffnest du den Ketzern das Haus tust was du kannst die Liebe bleibt tot

Dieses Land der Mütter Madonnen und Massaker der Mütter-mit-abgeschnittenen-Zungen

Dieses Land der blühenden Renditenraten und traurigen Hypotheken auf die Zukunft

(translated by Jan Koneffke)


(Slovenian translation)

Težko bi rekli, da je ta čas deževalo

Včasih dež niti ne pada in ne zmoči

Ko se povsod pojavljajo mlakuže

se poskrijejo stvari in bolni ljudje

In med prebliski domnev

Bi težko trdili, da zunaj dežuje

Bili smo v krčmi Pri zgubi časa

Kjer stari očakom, sirotam brez vnukov in novcev

Pripoveduje prazen kozarec tisočinenonoč

Nama dvema, ko sva na mizi nadelana kot trdi kruh peklenski

Ker rajskih kruhkov tu res niso nikoli nosili

Pa da bi komu kdaj kak hvala izustili

Krčmarju recimo ali njegovi slabo plačani dekli

Ubožnosti, najlepši Materi božji

Med gubami najbolj nemarnih božjepotnih kramarjev

V krčmi Pri zgubi časa in Novih Proleterov

Komaj da je še brlela neskončnost na prtih preproščine

In misli so bile vse poniglave od neskončne revščine

Med palicami mladosti in poskončnimi berglami

Smo se še komaj držali na gladini v vrčih

Z vinom, ki postane, ko ga okušaš, čudežna voda

mlakužna, ki se od povsod naceja

Kot naša ljubezen

Pravice žejna in lačna

Kjer kraljuje psovka namesto plačila

V krčmah ki jih dež zamaka

Dež ki pada na stiske ljudi

Ki so kdove kako izginili

Po norem skoku in v zasvinjani obleki

Kar dajte zdaj o tem

Kar z besedo na dan, če zunaj dežuje


Debela stekla na oknih

Spuščene navojnice

Sveče utripavke brez voska

Gluhonemi telefoni

Slepi televizorji

Ure, ki bijejo večnost

V klovne našemljene knjige

Pijane vinske steklenice

Naslanjači na invalidskem vozičku

Leteče blazine, predane svobodi

Neposnete fotografije v okvirju

Pajaci na nepretrganem zasedanju

Obleka, ki pomerja nova telesa

Ogledala, ki jih čaka psihoanaliza

Kocke z enim samim licem

Nadležna igra na karte s Smrtjo

Mrak, ki se zaganja v pisma mračnjakov

Vojaček pri dvigovanju zastave

Nekaj, kar je bilo in česar ni več


Pustite me, kjer sem

Kot pozabljeno aktovko

V prazni podzemski

Ne ljubi se mi z nje

Da bi splaval spet na površje

Zgoraj rinejo vame, da bi kaj rekel

In ne opazijo, da ni več kaj povedati

Ko sem opeval muke nesmrtnih pošasti

so mislili, da pesnim o nadrealnosti

Ko sem predaval med grobovi

O vlogi živih v kraljestvu smrti

Je v krstah zadonelo iskreno ploskanje

Ko sem napisal naporne mirovne pogodbe

Da bi se duhovi v dveh dimenzijah

Sporazumeli s tistimi v treh, ki jih je več

Ko sem spravil svoj šibki glas

V poštni paket brez oznak

In ga odposlal na drugi, pravi svet

In ko so me končno izkušnje

Skozi celo življenje naučile molčati

Sem končno pozabil govoriti

Tu me pustite

Kot pozabljeno aktovko

V prazni podzemski

Prišel bo ropar posebej pome

Prišel bo pome in me kam daleč odnesel

Pustite me, pustite me pri miru

Tudi če bi bilo v moji moči, vas ne bi prosil pomoči

Pustite me, kjer sem

Samo molk samo mir

 (translated by Marko Kravos)


(Croatian translation)

Kad vjetar puše skrećemo avione od papira
Sjeverac nas nosi daleko i propinje maestral
U potpalublju je hladno smrzava se lede oči
Nema piste na vidiku i slijetanja izgledna nisu
Pokrivaju nas paketi-plahte i prtljaga-deke
Razmjenjujemo poglede ali govoriti je rizik
Jer kisika je malo i misao oksidira začas
Tješi nas reaktor što moćno prostire svoju pjesmu
I poput zarona je za prvih kupanja u bazenu
Ili zgrčenog lica na prozoru vlaka što kreće
I onda pušemo i pušemo misleći na mjesec
Kad bi skočiti se moglo noktima zakačit za cirus
Bar jednom reći da nam je u oblacima bila glava

Svaki drugi dan tu padaju kuće u svako doba
U ruševinama se igra skrivača dok pomoć dođe
Svislobodni pjevuše bageri i grobari stižu
Drhtava kljuna gavrani popise nestalih pišu

Kao loptu bombe udaramo glavom nogom rukom
Uz piruete uklizavanja i driblanja dok ne padne
Frcaju prsti kao da je novogodišnje slavlje
Svakom njegov prasak svakom vatromet koji ga ide
Ko zvijezde padalice prsti padaju natrag na mjesto
Držimo se za ruke i tako iščekujemo jutro
Šepamo natrag u svoje daščare sve manje hrabri
I stalno netko dolazi i provjerava i broji nas i kaže
Da u logoru se šuti spava umire i zabranjeni su i snovi
Mi smo otpad višak razvaline vremena prnje što gore
Reciklirati nas zašto i za koga reciklirati nas u što
Dok urla u očima mu deseci metara bodljikave žice
Od te ćemo žice isplesti uže do nebeskog svoda
Bar jednom reći da nam je u oblacima bila glava

Svaki drugi dan tu padaju kuće u svako doba
U ruševinama se igra skrivača dok pomoć dođe
Svislobodni pjevuše bageri i grobari stižu
Drhtava kljuna gavrani popise nestalih pišu


Da ne smetamo prolaznicima na prstima se vraćamo s fronta
Pred školama i pred vrtićima prikrivamo krvave mrlje
Poput opsjenara pokazujemo djeci kacige-cilindre
Izlaze tužni kunići i golubice koje jedva lete
Žustro se umiješaju majke da nas otjeraju odatle
Dok nas očevi pomno drže na nišanu svoje puške
I s krovova tad po nama zapljušte blistave antene-strijele
Zbijenih redova navrat-nanos u vrsti dajemo se u bijeg
Prespori zbog ranaca dupkom punih tijela i granata
Težine svih neispaljenih hitaca u krutoj cijevi
Progone nas slijepe ulice raskrižja zabačena parkirna mjesta
Grad se previja i cijepa i usisava i najniža nebesa
U rasjedima zaglavljene stvari kao da je shrvao umor
Polegavši uz rubove sanjamo da lovimo kolumbra
Na prstima marširamo ruševinama da ne ometamo mrtve
Polako se otkoči puška među hrpama kreča i žbuke
Krišom ispod oka sudrug pozdravlja sudruga do sebe
Detonirani u predvečerje ništa smo doli bljesak


Odbačeni i već polumrtvi na otvoru peći
Odvojeni od onih koji gore loše ili nikako
Dižu nas kranovi koji će reći da su slušali naredbe
Spuštaju nas u rasutim grozdovima na vrele rešetke

Bjesne šikljaji zraka pod tlakom i metana
Što uvelike pospješuju proces rasplinjavanja
Pržimo se nekoliko sekundi no kao da su sati
Dok pripovijedamo si priče proljetnih lahora

Vrelina isušuje svaki nagovještaj suze
Kirurški dehidrira uspomene na more

Tko ne radi taj ni ljubit neće
Blažen pjeva tko u peći meće


(Slovak translation)

Spomenieš si na mňa v jednu nedeľu koncom leta

Zatiaľ čo súložiš s priesvitným chlapom

Bude ťa gniaviť ako októbrová obloha

Čím hlbšie pôjde dnu tým väčšmi ty vyjdeš von

Spomínaš chcem len spať povedala si

A spali sme bezprestania celé týždne

Naši susedia si mysleli že sme umreli

A my sme pritom nikdy neboli takí živí


Vstupujeme jeden do druhého robíme veci posvätné

Povedala si pop prvý raz a stisla si mi ruku

V jeden z tých večerov keď praskajú zárubne

Vyzerala si ako kus krásneho skla pred zemetrasením

Veci posvätné vravel som si veci posvätné

Potom si rozvinula jazyk ako pole roztiahnutých plachiet

Nekonečný jazyk purpurovú rieku

Prestaň povedala si a nechala si mi svoj tieň


Si jednou z tých ktoré prichádzajú s granátmi pod plášťom

A zrazu sa rozletia na franforce

Nato sa začne čas veľkého upratovania

Údržby kotla

Generálky elektrických rozvodov

Maľovanie stien

No vždy zostane skrytý nápis

Niečo ako tvoj dom som ja


Mám v hlave niečo iné hlavu mám plnú iného

Povedala si usadená pri rozheganom stole

Zo sukne ti viseli sladké ručné granáty

Rozprávala si a tárala rozprávala si a rátala padlých

Krv striekala na všetky strany bola si ruža červená

Tvrdé ostne čo som mal potom cumľať celú noc

Som prímerie zabudnuté zákopy

Vyškriab mi zrenice pozeraj na moje vojny


Ty nie si sám ty chceš byť sám

Povedala si na schodíku prázdneho vlaku

Lístok si zvieral v dlani ako amulet

Stisni ho silnejšie pomyslel som si roztrhaj ho

Vráťme sa pešo domov zhasnime svetlo

Potom zaznel hvizd dvere sa zavreli

Tvoj nehybný pohľad cez zarosené sklo

A každý kufor ako keby ti dával zapravdu


Posledný raz čo si povedasla my

Stála si pred sprchou

Vlasy zopnuté husia koža

Za tebou stúpejúci príliv

Kachličky rozožraté soľou

Budeme sa navždy ľúbiť povedala si

A pomaly si sa stratila medzi chaluhami

Ako ten kto od mora prichádza a k moru sa vracia


Keby si mi povedala staraj sa o mňa

Premenil by som rakovinu na víno

A všetka rakovina mne a všetko víno tebe

Mne cétečka chemoterapie biopsie

Sviečky zapálené len tak nasilu

Zoznamy toho čo ešte urobím čo som ešte neurobil

Posledná hodina postojačky pred prahom

Tebe príznaky radosti a všetko ostatné

(translated by  Miroslava Vallová)