Our street is quiet but at night
I can hear the city snoring
Its monotonous sound in the background
And the munching when it turns on its side
This evening all the admirals from Matejuška are leaving
They will untie the ropes on their litttle boats
And seek for a new world
Quietly while the heavy town is asleep
Without pomp quite covertly
They will slide onto the dark sea
Cut the night wave
Somewhere in the open sea the engines will start roaring
The heavy odour of oil and of the stale sea
The smell swaying in the ship’s womb
Will return to the harbour with the wind
And in the morning
What are we going to do without them
That is why my chest is always prepared
To a desert island I would carry
A metaphor
Market Day
AuthorOlja Savičević Ivančević