DALJINE
Budi jutro
na mom dlanu,
kap vode
na prah što se gubi.
Daleki sever,
vetar nad pučinom nemira,
iskra u oku
pod otvorenim nebom.
Sad kada sanjam
o visini
i kad sve sam video,
neverujem ponovnosti.
Budi visina
do koje ja bih,
kameni svetionik umara.
Kunem se
sad bih daleko,što dalje.
Među lišće požutelo
što pod dahom jesenjim
tumara.
Ja nisam bio tu,ti budi.
DISTANCE
Be morning
the palm of my hand,
water drop
the powder is to be lost.
Far North,
wind over the open sea of unrest,
spark in the eye
under the open sky.
Now that dream
on the amount of
when all I saw,
I do not believe again.
Be height
I would do that,
stone lighthouse tired.
I swear
I would now far away.
Among the yellowing of leaves
as the breath of autumn
roams.
I was not there, you be.
SVE PRIČE
Mi smo zatočenici
ovoga brda na kojem vjetrovi biju,
traga duge poslije kiše
moja tiha pjesmo,
u ruci trag rose,
rano jutro se prikrada
preko usana napola riječ.
Klizi prema tebi
kao pero tragom
na bijelom papiru,
ja sam tu negdje
na pola puta prema snu.
S ključem skrivenim u njedrima
kada se vratim,
kada ponekad svratim
sa žutim cvjetovima za tebe
moja tiha pjesmo.
Mi smo zatočeni
s pogledom u nepoznatu daljinu,
obamrli od nestvarne slutnje
i posustalog daha.
Hoću do vrha,
korakom za korakom u ovom plesu,
pijanom.
Mi smo zatočenici ovoga brda
gdje slike su nestvarno vatrene,
kao brodolomstvo preko valova,
s potopljenim mjesecom u pjeni.
Dok strune violina
se čuju,
ponirem,poniremo
u trenu kad poželjena je tišina
i kad bijeg je nestvarna potreba,
nestvarni ples povlači.
Vino ljubi
tamo gdje najviše zalutali smo
u izgubljenom trenu starog romantika,
kad kiše prate dugo
smišljenu nakanu
i kad srušeni su svi prelazi.
Sami smo
među mnogim obespokojenjima
i pitanjima gdje se uspeti ?
Ponirati bez bola,
neka sagori nebo ispod kojeg smo
zalutali !.
U lavirintu
u voćnjaku utočište prećutali,
gdje smo,šta je pod kaputom starim ?
U džepu skrito
toliko snažno na dohvatu.
Moja tiha pjesmo.
ALL STORIES
We are prisoners
this hill where the winds beat,
mark long after the rain
my silent songs
trail of rose in her hand,
early morning stalking
through word of mouth half.
Glides toward you
footsteps as a feather
on white paper,
I'm here somewhere
halfway to the dream.
On the key hidden in the bosom
when I get back,
Sometimes when you stop by
with yellow flowers for you
my silent song.
We have detained
with a view to an unknown distance
fainted from fanciful conjecture
and the stalled breath.
I want to tip,
step by step in this dance,
drunk.
We are prisoners of this hill
where the pictures are surreal fire,
as a ship wreckage over the waves,
flooded with moon in the foam.
While the violin strings
be heard,
sinks, delves
in an instant when the silence is highly recommended:
and when the flight is unreal needs,
unreal dance retreats.
Wine loves
where we wandered up
lost in the moment of the old romance,
when rains follow a long
premeditated intent
if all transitions have been destroyed.
We ourselves
among many undead
and issues where they succeed?
Sink without pain,
Let burn the sky under which we
stray!.
In the labyrinth
suppressed in the orchard shelter,
where we are, what was the old coat?
The stash pocket
so hard to reach.
My silent song.
TO JE IMAGINACIJA KAMILLE
Pusti neka voda nosi,
kiša spira sve,
a ja ?
Ja sam već otišao.
Kamille ti si već zvala.
Tvoji doušnici plave vatre
potirali su tragove
i uzglavlje razmeštali
obično kada odem,
s ledenim vetrom u leđima.
Sada slobodno reci
Kamille !
To je tvoj glas
i ne ostavljaj žute cvetove
na mojim dlanovima,
slobodna kao ptica
nad mirišljavim liparom.
Šta si odgovorila ?
Ništa,
samo stara,bleda fotografija
u tvojoj ruci govori.
A ja učim nepostojanost
i svoje loše navike ostavljam
na ulazu.
TO THE IMAGINATION KAMILLE
Let the water carry,
rain washes all,
I?
I am already gone.
Kamille you've already called.
Your informants blue fire
suppressed the evidence
and arranging the head
usually when I go,
the icy wind at their backs.
Now feel free to tell
Kamille!
It's your voice,
and have yellow flowers
on my palms
Free as a bird
the scents of Lipari.
What did you respond?
nothing
just an old, faded photos
in your hand speaks.
And I am learning volatility
and leave their bad habits
at the entrance.
