Marko Pogačar

Kako se malim kandžama popeti gore u maslinu,
ostati crna gušterica i preživjeti propast sunca?
svaka je maslina ugasla zvijezda,
a male kandže su sve što imamo.

i to je tajna gravitacije, nestanak svjetlosti koja se njiše
zgusnuta u našim metalnim tijelima.
naše su kandže naša taština, otac ih jednim potezom strese
s čipkaste balkonske zavjese.

svijet je ogromna pedikerka Milena, ona ih sigurnom rukom tamani,
ona pjeva o sole mio, naše kandže su prezrela, gola ljepota
ljubav je naš dug prema mrtvima.
...

How to climb the olive tree with those little claws,
stay a black lizard and survive the sun's collapse?
every olive is an extinguished star,
and little claws are all we have.

and that's the secret of gravity, the disappearance of light that swings
condensed in our metal bodies.
our claws are our vanity, the father shakes them off
the laced balcony curtain in one move.

the world is the giant pedicurist Milena, she eradicates them with a safe hand,
she sings o sole mio, our claws are an over-ripe, naked beauty
love is our debt to the dead.
...

Razmišljao sam o tome kako ćemo preživjeti noć.
vožnja je bila glatka i anestezija je
polako djelovala.
bio je četvrtak,
nekako sam se
osjećao kao Andrija. artiljerijski anđeo
je obećavao samoću.
nikad se nisam osjećao gore. debla su promicala
i mislio sam da ih više nikada neću vidjeti.
kondukter je ušao dok smo još bili u zemlji.
tražio sam restoran ali ga nije bilo.
skuhao sam čaj na kamperskom kuhalu
i podbočio se rebrima. vani je titrao listopad.
jednom sam u vlaku zaspao
i probudio se u Vinkovcima.
jesen je bila na pomolu. hotelske sale i
saksofonska sola do ponoći, a onda
telefoni koji polako izumiru. poslije tišina.
šine koje razmiču prostor i postaju
pasivni princip povratka.
razmišljao sam o tome kako su krave napuhane.
kako po definiciji
ne podnosim završetke.
...

I wondered how we were going to survive the night.
the ride was smooth and the anaesthetic
slowly took effect.
it was a Thursday,
somehow I felt
like Andrew. the angel of artillery
promised solitude.
never have I felt worse. trees swept by
and I thought I'd never see them again.
the conductor came in while we were still on the ground.
I looked for a restaurant, but there was none.
I made tea on the camping stove
and propped myself on my ribs. outside October quivered.
once I fell asleep on the train
and woke up in Vinkovci.
autumn was looming. hotel lobbies
and saxophone solos until midnight, and then
telephones that are slowly becoming extinct. after that silence.
the rails that set space apart and become
the passive principle of return.
I thought about bloated cows.
since by definition
I can't stand closure.
...

Netko priprema gradele.
zrak posut pečenim lovorom
uvlači se u jedra. nitko ne namjerava
ploviti. u krevetima od padobranske svile
meso čeka da netko palucne jezikom. bit će da je
onaj tko priprema gradele
Toni. na palubi bujaju puževi. tuga ne može podnijeti
kućice koje se lome. zato kuhamo samo golaće.
eventualno zagrebemo
površinu noktima i onda do dugo u noć
vadimo iverje. tvrđava boli je konj.
čistilište čežnje je u čegrtušama
i baš me briga za
maniere. život je san.
ping-pong je umjetnost. ako baš
hoćete.
...

Someone's grilling fish.
the air sprinkled with roasted bay leaves is
sneaking into sails. no one has any intention of
sailing. in beds of parachute silk
the flesh waits for someone to flick his tongue. the one
grilling the fish must be
Toni. the deck is bursting with snails. sadness cannot stand
the shells breaking. so we cook only slugs.
sometimes we scratch
the surface with our fingernails and then until late in the night
we pick out splinters. the fortress of pain is a horse.
the purgatory of yearning is in rattlesnakes
and I don't give a damn about
maniere. life is a dream.
ping-pong is art. if you really
want it.
...

Izleti u nepoznato su uvijek ono
što nas može učiniti sretnim.
Pritom je potrebno sreću promatrati
kao fazu, a nepoznato kao prvo što
oko sebe primijetiš.

Primijetiti stvar kao nepoznatu
jer ono što je čini
istovremeno dalekom i bliskom.

Obale s kojih se otiskuješ su
sasvim individualna stvar.
Ishodište po prirodi ostaje nezaštićeno.
Sve što smo bili pretvara se u naftu.
Otkopčaj košulju i
pogledaj preko ograde, meduze su
preuzele pučinu.

Nepoznata stvar zahtijeva da je zagrliš
kao želju za padanjem
i pomoć kad ti je potrebna.
Tvoj izlet mora postati
Kolumbova osveta,
ekspedicija koja će te uspostaviti kao
umirovljenog oficira ili
kameleona između ljubavi i šutnje.
...

A trip into the unknown is always something
that can make us happy.
Therefore it's important to see happiness
as a phase, and the unknown as the first thing
you see around.

See something as the unknown
because what makes it
distant makes it close at the same time.

The shores from which you set sail are
a completely individual matter.
The point of departure stays unprotected by nature.
Everything we were turns into oil.
Unbutton your shirt and
take a look over the fence, jellyfish are taking
over the sea.

The unknown demands that you embrace it
as the desire to fall
or help when you need it
Your trip must become
Columbus' revenge,
an expedition that will institute you as
a retired officer or a
chameleon between love and silence.
...

Med se topi u čaju, potpuno, za razliku od mene u tebi
i tebe u ozbiljnoj glazbi,

predugi telefonski pozivi, nikada mjesta kada trebaš
slobodan stol, uvijek pokvareni liftovi,

stepenice razmotane u beskonačnost, kao razgovor o politici,
i baš kada netko primijeti da se totalitarizam i demokracija

razlikuju samo u brojevnom sustavu
nestane slike i sve nanovo počinje: glasovi cure iz zidova,

potpuno bestjelesni, večer se spušta na dlanove, kao rudar
u jamu, ipak, cipele ostavljene

pred vratima dokazuju da postoje živi, ali što znači živjeti,
dok zima dolazi kotrljajući se kao hladni dah iz mog grla,

i svija gnijezdo u tamnom alfabetu; svi ti užurbani nepoznati
ljudi s poznatim imenom, popodne prelomljeno na dvoje, kao Koreja,

čaj u kojem je med već do kraja otopljen, nerazdvojivo,
i ta viskozna otopina je ljubav; kako stići do tebe; kako te dohvatiti?
...

Honey is melting in tea, completely, unlike me in you
and you in classical music,

never-ending phone calls, no room when you need
a clear table, elevators that are always broken

stairs unfolding into eternity, like talking about politics,
just as someone notices that totalitarianism and democracy

differ only in the system of numbers
the picture disappears and everything starts all over again: voices seep from walls,

completely bodiless, evening descends on palms, like a miner
into a hole, still, the shoes left

at the doorstep prove that the living exist, but what does it mean to live,
as winter comes rolling like cold breath from my throat,

and builds its nest in the dark alphabet; all those hurried unknown
people with known names, afternoons split in two, like Korea,

the tea in which honey had already melted, inseparable,
and this viscous solution is love; how to get to you; how to reach you?
...

Kada su željezni ždralovi bacili posljednju nuklearnu elektranu na grad
tvoje se origami srce rasprslo kao staklena kugla

koju Ted Nugentov visoki C zaogrne u sjajnu prazninu. da. tako je počelo:
film u kojem žena, nepristojno pristala mlada žena,

pronađe svoju izgubljenu polovicu, da, tako je počelo.
ulica pretvorena u Finsku, papirnata sjeverna flota

guta asfalt brže od pukotina koje zemlja šalje
iznutra da ga nasmije, krvnik, odsijeca britke replike

kao prste; zrak toliko proziran da ga poželim vidjeti. odsutnost,
temeljno obilježje pjesme, uvlači se u tijela djece, oprezno

jednim pozivom povučene u kuće. miris upravo spuštene vode koja,
kokainizirani liftboy, neumorno odlazi gore, skriva se, u nosnicama

osniva odvratno liberalni sindikat, na kraju miruje, nedugo, negdje visoko,
i opet pada. odsutnost. trijumfalni odmor na koji ne odeš.

čaj: mrvice umočene u zube i površina koja je mirovala kreće se,
naše polovice nas pronalaze ili ostaju skrivene. sve što je stvarno nas nadilazi.

glas, tvoj vlastiti pripovjedač, kaže sada si potpuna
sigurnim tonom prelazi preko slike, kao psihoanalitički Buda, i zna

zna da nikada nije sve izgubljeno. retorički vadičep koji ti probuši oči. isiše
mozak, tako završi. i psihoanalitičari i zombiji i budisti čim se pojave

unište svaki pokušaj kraja. jedino su gori kršćani. čak i nakon apokalipse
nešto se dešava.
...

When steel cranes dropped the last nuclear power plant on the city
your origami heart burst like a glass ball

which Ted Nugent's high C capes into shiny emptiness. yes. that's how it started:
a film in which a woman, a vulgarly fit young woman,

finds her lost half, yes, that's how it started.
a street turned into Finland, the northern fleet made of paper

swallows the asphalt faster than the cracks the earth sends
from inside to make it smile, an executioner, cuts sharp replies

like fingers; the air so transparent I want to see it. absence,
the poem's main feature, makes way for the bodies of children, who retreated

back into houses, carefully, after one call. the smell of just flushed water which,
a bellhop on cocaine, tirelessly goes up, hides, in nostrils

founds a disgustingly liberal syndicate, in the end stays calm, for a second, somewhere high,
and falls down again. absence. a triumphal vacation which you never take.

tea: crumbs dipped into teeth and the surface that stood still is on the move,
our halves find us or remain hidden. all that is real surpasses us.

voice, your own narrator, says that you are now complete
in a safe tone it moves across the canvas, like a psychoanalytic Buddha, and knows

knows that all is never lost. a rhetorical corkscrew that pierces your eyes. sucks your
brain out, that's how it ends. all the psychoanalysts and zombies and Buddhists the moment they appear

destroy every attempt at an end. only Christians are worse. even after the Apocalypse
something happens.
...

Zagrli me i dozvolit ću ti da me zamisliš golog.
od danas sam
Judith Butler muške emancipacije.
prestao sam razmišljati jer to ne vodi nikuda. od sada gledam
kada je potrebno gledati.
ako bih baš morao sada misliti, to bi bilo o bogu.
ili, još jednom, o praznini. prostoru između ruku,
tamnoj tvari,
onom ostalom između povrća, sasvim svejedno,
bit je u ničijoj zemlji.
o tome kako je kosa lijepa dok otpada. o zadnjim danima svibnja,
prostoru kada praznina pocrni.
kad me zamisliš to je, isto tako, popunjavanje praznine.
u ključnoj točki
sve se svede na egzotične čestice. minestrone. nemaš pojma
što je unutra, ali sve funkcionira. stvar je, vjeruj mi,
u onom između.
dobro popunjena praznina je granica ljubavi.
princip je plivaća kožica, zamisli me
prije nego što ja to učinim tebi.
zagrli me nekako samo ne rukama. ruke su ruralno oružje.
ostavi ih Hrvatima.
izvuci sav silikon i od toga napravi kuću. pribij se uza zid
kao virtualna sjena, korak naprijed,
u volumen obrane i vrijeme bezuvjetne slobode, točku jasne opasnosti.
dok miješaš taj minestrone budi obazriva.
neka bude što gušći. prazninu reduciraj na najmanju moguću mjeru.
i oni koji sad čuče u tim biljkama postanu ponekad depresivni
od svog tog prostora oko njih.
...

Put your arms around me and I'll let you imagine me naked.
from this day on I'm a
Judith Butler of male emancipation.
I stopped thinking because it leads nowhere. from now on I look
when looking is necessary.
if I really had to think now, it would be about God.
or, once again, about emptiness. the space between arms,
dark matter,
what's left between the vegetables, it doesn't matter,
the point is in no-man's-land.
about how beautiful the hair is when it's falling out. about the last days in May,
the space when emptiness goes black.
when you imagine me, that's the filling up of emptiness, again.
at the key point
everything is brought down to exotic particles. minestrone. you have no clue
what's inside, but everything works. the thing is, believe me,
in what's in between.
well-filled emptiness is the limit of love.
the principle is webbed toes, imagine me
before I do that to you.
embrace me somehow not only with your arms. arms are rural weapons.
leave them to the Croats.
take out all the silicone and make a house from it. nail yourself to the wall
like a virtual shadow, a step forward,
into the volume of defense and time of unconditional freedom, point of clear danger.
be considerate as you're mixing the minestrone.
let it be as thick as possible. reduce emptiness to the smallest possible measure.
even those who cower in those plants sometimes become depressed
from all that space around them.
...