Translated by: Elizabeta Bakovska
Last night million crackers deflated
million balloons
we watch not to step on them
as if they were condoms filled
with explosive
magical are these first-yearly morning
walks along the deserted empty streets
only old men and lost celebration guests
who drink the first morning sun
as a raw egg
last night here they counted down scrubbed
their faces and sprayed each other with foamy hope
there were as many of them as F-words
in mother’s dictionary
now they sleep as babies with their bibs
of bicarbonate in their cribs
both flowers and winter rest
dances and dawn and cabbage rolls and ladies
the mayor rests and
the first baby and the TV and the doctor
only us with eyes thick with sleep
searching for an open store
we pass by the trees with multicoloured
shiny fruits
by the needles of evergreen trees stuck in
white hairs of the beards of the red
by nice decoration papers (probably)
impatiently torn away from beautiful gifts
by the taxi driver who does not react to thumbs
by the only open store
where we buy a loaf of bread
and with an unjustified uneasiness
we take the small change
that might be useful
later
for the Christmas Eve bread.
Book by Jovica Ivanovski published by Blesok:
¤ Selected Poems