Dubravko Detoni

Zaogrnut ću se tvojim glasom, tvojim glasom, i nevidljiv izići na ulicu. Stajat ću tamo s tvojim glasom, s tvojim glasom u sebi, a kuće će promicati pokraj mene kao umorni, napola potonuli parobrodi. I to će tako trajati stotinu, stotinu godina, sve dok ptice na preuzmu tvoj glas, tvoj glas, i ne podsjete me da bih i ja morao krenuti.
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I will clothe myself in your voice, in your voice, and invisibly I will go out into the street. I will stand there with your voice, with your voice inside me, and houses will pass me by like tired, half-sunken steamships. And it will last a hundred years, a hundred years, until birds take over your voice, your voice, to remind me I have to move on.
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to je za pomislim drvenim glasom; već me vukao. stražar ništavila zalutao u bubnju.

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proklinjanje grmlja, pogledaj, bilje nas ismijava. odbijena strijela našoj gadosti ono će odsad rasti iznutra. kuga male nesreće, vi šarenci mutni sanci i vi oparene slatke male ptice bjegunice.

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(debata)

nepredviđeni mladi neprijatelj ili dolazak kao pljuckavo pjenušavi dio govora vojske suglasnika nasuprot ljepoti bande natapiranih samoglasnika pjevane s repovima sve u mišićavoj brzini jutra

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(Betold Brecht)

gledajući desno i lijevo gledajući desno i lijevo ne videći ništa ne videći ama baš ništa do maglene dolame do puta crne šume do puta crne šume uspostavi drvo nit drma zlo

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Ljepota prolazaše ulicom na jednoj nozi. Crveni čuperak namaljan put neba, neki skrovit znak, u zlu i muci dostignuto pitanje.

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policijska muha udari u gong. meso kaplje s prozora. doviknuti da sam se rasuo.

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pjesma je cluster užasa zatočen u stupu

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Čujem da se smanjujete (neki grad se javio pod imenom zime). Kako je samo ispustio melodiju? Svi pate od rasporeda; naravno, zaboravljaju cvijeće. A tamo se svak potiho sladi (pažnja, ispravak). Istjerali su je čim shvatiš, smije se, tja, gotovo je.

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(Rodoljublje)

Uzet ću sablju i u komad zraka upisati zvuk. To je neka melodija državnosti, u stazu ugrađen tuđi hod. To je neko jato s dušama iz regala. To je neki posao u basu, sivozelenkasti operetni duh.
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for me, it is thinking with a wooden voice; it has ambushed me. guardian of nothingness, astray in a drum.

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cursing the scrub, look, plants are mocking us. ricocheted arrow of our disgust will now grow from within. plague of small misfortune, oh you colorful dim dreams and you steamed little runaway birds.

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(a debate)

unforeseen young enemy or an arrival like a spitting bubbly part of the speech of the consonant army opposite the beauty of the gang of coiffure vowels singing with their tails in the muscular speed of morning

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(Bertolt Brecht)

looking right and left looking right and left not seeing anything really not seeing anything until the misty coat until the path through black woods the path through black woods establishes a tree a thread a shivering evil

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Beauty passing down the street on one leg. Red tufts paint the sky, a hidden sign, a question of evil and torment raised.

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a police fly hits the gong. flesh drips from the window. call out that I have dissipated.

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a poem is a cluster of horror imprisoned in a pillar

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I hear you are shrinking (some city went under the name winter). How did it let out its melody? Everyone suffers from routine, indeed, forgetting the flowers. And everyone there quietly feasts (attention, correction). They kicked her out and as soon as you realize, she laughs, well, it's over.

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(Patriotism)

I will take the sabre and inscribe a sound in a piece of air. A kind of stately melody, foreigner's gait planted in the path. A flock of souls from the shrank. A kind of job in bass, a gray-greenish operatic ghost.
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Sada još mogu općiti samo s tvojim glasom. Dotiču me blijeda vlakna tvojih uzvika, žare se nabubrjele bradavice dlakavog telefona, cijedi mi se po koljenima i gnjatu kipuć sok iz tvojih riječi, bulji u mene glatko otvorena rupa daljine. Istiskujem se kao pasta iz tube vremena, sjedim u mokro-mirisavim udubinama tvojih šutnja. Nitko na svijetu ne može na staro mjesto utisnuti antene na uzdignutu gorostasu mojega slučaja.
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Now I can only make love to your voice. The pale fibres of your cries touch me, burned by the swollen nipples of the hairy telephone, the piping hot juice of your words dripping on my knees and feet, the smoothly opened void of distance gazes at me. I'm squeezing myself out like paste from the tube of time, I'm sitting in wet-fragrant hollows of your silences. Nobody in the world could press antennae back into their old place on the erected giant my case has become.
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Sve me podmuklije obuzima geometrija tvojega tijela: gluha zavrzlama trokuta i krugova, partitura bespuća i staza biblijskih prokletstava, splet bubrenja izvan kemije i vremena, otvori svemirskih vokala koji u mene sipaju sve mutniji nepokret znakova, sve opasniji strah ukraden dolini mrtve straže.
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The geometry of your body always comes over me insidiously: deaf entanglement of triangles and circles, a musical score to the pathless paths of biblical curses, a web of swelling beyond chemistry, openings of the cosmos' vocals filling me with dimmer and dimmer signs, immobile, ever dangerous fear stolen from the valley of dead guards.
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Ljubav negdje ispušta; čujem grozno šištanje upregnutih sekundi koje me iskreći i frkćući odvlače od tebe. Kaldrma puna okamenjenih srdaca nemilosrdno uzvraća bubotcima. Sve su deblje korice sjećanja; već ih i jedva otvaram. Sa strane put otromboljeni Kupido, ovlaš nagnut, traži i ne traži strjelicu zagubljenu na odlagalištu ljubavnih otpadaka. Lažno zabrinut grad, slikan iz sve veće udaljenosti, zbunjeno se smješka.
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Love leaks somewhere; I can hear the horrible hissing of yoked seconds, sparkling and snorting, dragging me away from you. A cobbled street full of petrified hearts strikes back without mercy. Memory's covers are growing thicker; I can hardly open them. Flabby Cupid slouches near by the roadside, looking for but not looking for a small arrow lost in the pile of love's leftovers. The town captured at a growing distance fakes its concern, smiles in confusion.
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Tvoja gola noga proveze se usporeno kao grana obučena u bijelo kroz moju pamet i zaustavi se sedam centimetara od izlaza. Ograničena trajanja, ne odgovara joj nijedan kut, pa od rana jutra psuje gospodara. Usta su joj na koljenima i ne mogu zaustaviti neprestano kešenje i cvokotanje unutarnjih zubi; za hitne potrebe upotrebljava smeđe mirisav muški ruž.
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Your naked leg drives slowly through my mind as a branch dressed up in white, and stops seven centimetres from the exit. It has a best before end, no angle suits it, and from early morning it curses its mistress. With its mouth on its knee it couldn't stop grinning and rattling its back teeth; in an emergency it will use a man's lipstick, fragrant brown.
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