Očekujem dan smaknuća.
Dolaze mi u šarenim haljinama
toliko tudđi da ih ne mogu osjetiti
i nude nešto između zraka i nepostojanja.
Poželim da sam odjeven u haljine kakvoga junaka,
zavjerenik možda kojeg će spasiti
vratolomijom.
Ali uglavnom ne želim.
Još kada me zidovi salete tjeskobom
i ne mogu krenuti velike betonske jezike.
Hito bih da ih nestane.
Ne da se valjam po zelenoj livadi,
ne da se napijem bistre vode, jer toga je bilo
i suviše
već da sam razrijelen, bez tragova,
da samog sebe ne pritištem.
Što bih još želio?
Kakav položaj sjedenja i gledanja?
Kako još da izvrnem svoje dlanove?
Koko još da uvteredim svoju kosu?
Očekujem, kažu, smrt,
ali ja znam da mene više nema i sve je izlišno.
Generally speaking, I do not want
I await the day of execution.
They come in colorful robes,
they are so strange that I cannot stand them
and they offer something between air and nonexistence.
I wish to be dressed in a hero's robe,
a conspirator who will perhaps be saved
by some hazardous adventure.
But generally speaking, I do not want.
Moreover, when the walls assail me with anxiety
and I cannot set in motion the cement's great tongues.
I would like them to disappear.
Not because I would like to roll on the green meadow,
not because I would like to drink clear water, for
there was too much of all that,
but to be released without a trace, so that I don't
press on myself.
What more could I want?
A new kind of sitting and watching posture? a way
to reverse the Palms of my hands?
Or a way to disentangle my hair?
I await, they say, death,
but I know that I don't exist anymore, and that all
is useless.
