Starci su zurili u nebo.
Već dva dana se očekuje oluja sa zapada.
Jutros kada su se probudili
kosti su im ponovno predskazivale.
Sada očekuju poput Šimuna
u ovo jutro trećeg dana.
Spremni su.
Jednomu sivi klobuk na glavi,
drugom, novine umetnute u potplate.
Kad jedan zadrijema, drugi ga gurka.
Nijedan ne vjeruje u bistrinu svog uma:
misli kolebljive, sjećanja nepouzdana.
Na tijelo se također ne mogu pouzdati:
Oči suze na hladnom zraku a
srce tegobno, gotovo rezignirano.
Jedino kosti daju pouzdanu procjenu
i starci osluškuju oprezno svako škriputanje.
Znaju oni to odavno
da će kosti ostati čiste i suhe
još dugo nakon što se ostatak tijela rastopi.
Znaju oni za to rastapanje već godinama,
koje dolazi polagano iz njihovog očajanja
a prema novoj vjeri u čvrstu vječnost kostiju.
Starci zure u nebo u iščekivanju.
Onaj sa sivim klobukom začuje prve kapi kiše
no ne reće ništa svom prijatelju.
Prosto se nasmješi i postane pozorniji.
Onaj drugi, bez riječi, također se nasmješi.
Michael Hogan
(Translated by
Darko Kotevski)
WAITING
by Michael Hogan
The old men have been watching the sky.
From the West the storm has been two days coming.
This morning when they awoke
their bones prophesied it again.
Now they wait like Simon
on the morning of the third day.
They are prepared.
One has a gray fedora,
the other, newspapers lining his soles.
If one begins to nod, the other nudges him.
Neither puts any trust in the mind:
thoughts waver, memories are unreliable.
The flesh, too, cannot be depended upon:
eyes weep from the cold air and
the heart is weary, almost resigned.
Only the bones give an accurate account
and the old men listen carefully to each creak.
They have known for a long time
that the bones will be clear and dry
long after the rest has melted.
They have known the melting for years,
coming slowly from its despair
to a new faith in the hard endlessness of bone.
The old men watch the sky expectantly.
The one in the gray fedora hears the first drops
but says nothing to his friend.
He merely smiles and becomes more attentive.
The other, without a word, smiles too.
(From Making Our Own Rules by Michael Hogan, Copyright 1989.)
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