Breath-hold diving

/, Blesok no. 71-73/Breath-hold diving

Breath-hold diving

The Color of the Bura, the Exuberance of Hair
The Island Sightseeing
Breath-Hold Diving
Dramatic Peaks on Fridays after the Fish in the Workplace Canteen
Foam of the Day
A Picture

i can’t stand left-wingers.
i can’t stand right-wingers.
Sickles, hammers, swastikas and
the perpetually smiling faces in damned depressing mines.
i can’t stand pussies that wait
for me to turn my back
so they can continue their chat undisturbed.
i can’t stand those that inebriated
grab their electro-stimulated hearts,
nor those from the croatian tv screen
who drill me with their ‘proudly held brows’.
i can’t stand the fat wise men
with eye circles made of clay,
nor hysterical, needle-like
reptiles, after whom always remains
a pallid and sleazy trail.
i can’t stand the solicitors
of own political past,
i can’t stand the distinguished and loyal citizens
of this ‘one and only’ country who never can
figure out WHICH
i can’t stand the media empires
of former party bureaucrats,
in which the aging communists and
young, angry fascists
wash their bloody hands.
i can’t stand bright union activists,
who smell of garlic and slivovitz,
whose teeth are rotten,
and whose breath is ‘the breath of the faded empire’.
i can’t stand blasé leaders.
i can’t stand neither skaters nor scooters.
i can’t stand mopes and i can’t stand crybabies
the phonies with loosened ties
at the base, with stuffy, with gaunt faces.
i can’t stand the crowd in between,
in the middle and around.
i can’t stand either european bureaucrats
or domestic leaders: the bald, hairy, bearded ones and those others.
i can’t stand the president of the republic,
the minister of defense, the prime minister and the entire government
with the attached retinues.
i can’t stand myself either, i don’t see the innocent ones
not even in my own skin.
and i seem mean to myself, and rotten:
each time i slam-dunk one down
while any normal creature would fire a three-pointer
to those under the opposite hoop,
and triumphantly flutter into eternity
on the plastic ‘wings of democracy’.


Translated by: Boris Gregorić

2018-08-21T17:22:55+00:00 June 30th, 2010|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 71-73|0 Comments