Miroslav Kirin

The ground - still wet from the afternoon shower. Each little grass-blade
persistently returns the raindrops to the sky.
Having overheard this harmless dialogue, we failed to notice
the nightfall - suddenly it was there, between two cups of tea.
...

THE BOAT WAS PACKED FULL,
the coast deserted, soon to be lost from sight.

We were rowing for hours,
we were departing and arriving.
...

Unfathomable, just like when I rinse the dirty dishes in the warm, gushing water,
put them aside to dry, and my face is aglow with happiness.
With an unmeant easiness I open the window to let in the fresh morning air.
The water is boiling, and from the silvery box I add four teaspoons of coffee.
...

my tongue falls out of my mouth
it is no longer a tongue, it is a huge calf's liver
of the calf we slaughtered yesterday
...

They don't allow me to read on the tram, especially you, with your hair swinging
left-right.
You're tossing it onto the page I am reading, splaaash, all the words vanish
and I have to look up at you.
...

Early in the morning a naked woman kneels on the kitchen floor praying.
The smoke from the heating plant rises steadily.
A soprano from Schnittke's madrigal interferes with the voice of the potato vendor coming from the street.
The chill descends to the root of a plant
...

Allegedly, God crouches by each newborn child whispering all sorts of tales into his ear, inducing him to scream. The child's silence stands for the defeat of God. However, all is bound to end up in the denial of silence. John Cage set a limit to 4' 33'';
...

What is a shoe doing in the grass of the park? Ask her at once.
Let her know it is outrageous. Ask her why she's alone,
where her left or right match is, why she's not looking for it.
Why she has agreed to be alone. After the shower she's full of
...

JEDINI SI KOME svaki dan
propadne i nestane.

Da je barem tako, pomisli samo,
nitko drugi ne bi sjeo za ispražnjeni stol i zaplakao.

Vidi (kaže): Ovdje nema ničega.
Za sve što će doći već sada vrijedi otići spavati.

Spava mi se zaista,
bez objašnjenja, kaže

taj Portugalac.
(A ti potom pjevaj

s one strane, u društvu
šepavih i mutavih.)
...

YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE for whom every day
is ruined and then gone.

If it could be so, think for a moment,
no one else would sit down at the vacant table and start crying.

Look (he says): There is nothing here.
For all that will come you have to go to bed right now.

I'm sleepy, really,
without any reason, says

that Portuguese man.
(So, go on singing

on the other side, in the company
of the lame and mute.)
...

NEŠTO SE KRASNO DOGAĐA:
zlo je kratko poput zvuka.

snijeg se odrekao bjeline,
dodir tijela.

a da bi tijelo umrljano
krvlju ponovno bilo

bijelo, odrekli smo se
mjerenja & uvjerenja:

priuštili smo si radost
sljepoće, gluhoće & nijemosti.

u novostvorenoj lakoći stvari
odskakuju i ne vraćaju se.
...

A BEAUTIFUL THING takes place:
the evil as short as the sound.

the snow has abandoned its whiteness,
the touch its body.

in order to make a blood-
bathed body white again,

we have abandoned
our measures & persuasions:

we have afforded ourselves a joy
of being blind, deaf & dumb.

in their newly created lightness
things bounce and never come back.
...

PO ŽICI IDE - ptica
spaljenih krila:

zimski san:
vjetar obavijen

oko tišine:
idemo tvrdi

u svojoj upornosti:
dižemo kamenje

i ubijamo
sve čega još

uvijek ima:
dok ubijamo -

ima nade:
dok ima

nade -
...

A BIRD WITH SCORCHED wings makes its
way on the wire:

winter dream:
wind coiled

around silence:
there we go hard

in our persistence:
we pick up rocks

and murder all
that remains:

while we murder -
there is some hope:

while there is
some hope -
...

KROZ ZRAK ŠIŠTE svjetlucava
bića: plova riba, jato ptica, roj mušica -

otkidaju me od težine hodanja,
otkidaju me od prisile disanja.

Jesi li ih vidio?
Znaš, otvoriš li prozor i, ako si sretan,

ugledat ćeš ih. Ne,
ništa nisam vidio.

Jesi li otvorio prozor? Jesam.
Znači, prozor imaš. Da.

Pa kako ih onda nisi
vidio. Jesi

li slijep? Nisam. Jesi
li sretan? Ne

mogu odgovoriti. Ne
možeš odgovoriti? Da.
...

A SWISH OF GLITTERING creatures in
the air: a school of fish, a flock of birds, a swarm of flies -

they deprive me of heaviness of walking,
they deprive me of compulsion of breathing.

Have you seen them?
You know, you just open the window and, if you're lucky enough,

you'll see them. No,
I haven't seen anything.

Did you open the window? Yes.
Well, you do have the window? Yes.

How come you haven't
seen them? Are you

blind? No. Are you
happy? No, I can

not answer this. You can
not answer this? Yes.
...

BEZ OSTATAKA. KAO iz žrvnja.
Zdrobljen. Izmožden. Istjeran.

Moje sjeme vesla zrakom. Ja sam
zrela prilika da se upozna šupljina,

da se žudnja i polet usidre u točci.
Bijesan sam i nemoćan: zašto se

sve ovo događa? Ljubavnici su se
smežurali i isušili poput krajobraza.

Njihova šuplja tijela nadlijeću rascvale
livade. Tu ih redovito požanje lovac

sklon sladogleđu. Dok se njegovo
sjeme rasprskava, sjene ljubavnika

zastru njegovo tijelo. Nema ga više.
Zemljom klizi led i zasijeca disanje.

U tijela se potom ulije voda i još
malo se otrpi život sve dok ne. Znam.

U sve stavljam udio vlastite krivnje.
Još se ništa nije dogodilo a da ne bih

osjetio tugu, razočaranje što ništa
nisam mogao učiniti. Kao, recimo, to

s tobom. Dok si me voljela, bio sam
ravnodušan prema tvojoj ljubavi.

Kao rijeka. Ravnodušna prema svojim
obalama. Potajice ih miluje. Ništa

ne iskazuje. Prešutni snošaj. Povremeno
iskrenje. A onda se obale uruše.

Sve je sad jezero. Nema više granica. Nema
uzbuđenja. Trijumf nezainteresiranosti.

Nijemost ljubavi. Gdje je sada moja obala,
pita rijeka, pita jezero.

Stežeš se sa svih strana, više ti ne raspoznajem
tijelo. Što se dogodilo? Tijela

se rađaju noću a danju umiru. Noćni narod ne
poznaje danji. Granicama teku tanke, studene

vode. U zoru, nad njih se nagnu žene i plaču
ne bi li ih toplinom svojih suza učinile

prohodnima. Ponekad mlaz svjetlosti zablista
u oko žene. Ispruži ruku i dotakne ljubavnikovo

bedro. On zadrhti. Ruka joj potom uklizne u
njegovu nutrinu, ščepa srce i iščupa ga. Opet

poteče granica studeni. Ljubavnik se smežura
i uzalud zove upomoć. Nitko mu više neće

doći u onkraj. Osim hladnih tijela drugih
osakaćenih ljubavnika, prepuštenih ravnodušnosti.

Vježbanju samoće. Udisanju ostataka
samih sebe, ostataka vlastite ljubavi.

Izlaz? Biti epigon vlastite ljubavi.
imitirati nečiji unutarnju život.

Evo ih, stižu. Solidarnost u međusobnoj poraženosti.
Tiha milovanja i tapšanja bez značenja.

Nepomućeni pogledi puni čežnje.
Srca nemoćna da zalupaju.
...

NOTHING REMAINS. As if under a millstone.
Crushed. Ravaged. Expelled.

My seed is rowing through the air. I present
a splendid opportunity to get to know hollowness,

to see desire and zeal anchored in a dot.
I feel furious and impotent: why should

this happen? Lovers shriveled and parched
like the landscape. Given up to emptiness.

Their hollow bodies fly over the meadows
in bloom. There they are regularly reaped

by a hunter prone to voyeurism. While his
seed is sprinkled around, the shadows

of lovers veil his body. He's gone. Ice
glides along earth and enters breathing.

Later, water enters bodies.
A little longer life can be endured. I know.

I feel to blame for everything. I feel a deep
grief, a disappointment for not being able

to do something. Take, for instance, you.
When you loved me I was indifferent, though. Like

a river. Indifferent to its banks. Caressing
them secretly. Declaring nothing. A tacit

intercourse. Occasional sparks. Then banks
collapse. All is a lake now. No boundaries. No thrills.

A triumph of indifference. A muteness of love.
Where's my bank, says the river, says the lake.

You've surrounded me from all sides. I can't recognize
your body any more. What went wrong? Bodies

are born by night, and die by day. Night people
don't recognize day people. Thin, icy waters

flow along borderlines. At daybreak, women
bend over them and weep. The warmth of their tears

will make waters passable. Once in a while a beam
of light twinkles in the eye of a woman. She extends

her hand and touches her lover's thigh. He begins
to shiver. Her hand slides inside his body,

grabs his heart and plucks it out. The cold border
runs again. The lover shrivels and calls for help.

In vain. No one will ever come to see him there,
on the other side. Except for cold bodies

of other mutilated lovers, left to a growing
indifference. The training of loneliness.

Inhaling the remnants of themselves,
the remnants of their love.

A way out. Being an imitation
of love. Impersonate someone's inner life.

Here they come. A solidarity in mutual defeat.
Silent caressing and futile

tapping on the shoulder.
An immaculate gaze full of longing.

Hearts unable to beat.
...

ČITAČ JE DODIRA ostao bez posla.
Zapravo, zaboravio je vlastiti jezik.

Jer tamo gdje se radilo o dodiru
sada se izvija nemilosrdni stisak,

poput onoga od udava, gmizi posteljom
i šušlja govoreći, daveći umjesto milujući.

I govornik je tijela ostao bez posla.
Zapravo, nikad ni nije bio zaposlen.

Jer tamo gdje se radilo o tijelu
bujale su riječi,

milujući umjesto da dave,
govoreći umjesto dodirujući.
...

THE READER OF THE TOUCH was fired.
Actually, he forgot his own language.

For there where the touch was
now a merciless clutch coils,

python-like, crawling in the bed and stammering
instead of talking, strangling instead of caressing.

And the speaker of the body was fired, too.
Actually, he never really had a job.

For there where the body mattered,
words were overflowing,

caressing instead of strangling,
talking instead of touching.
...