Njujork 1943, foto: Roger Smith/LoC
Njujork 1943, foto: Roger Smith/LoC

Upozorenje propovednika

Naš mirni svet je spreman za uništenje

Pa ipak sunce sija, vrapci dolaze

Svakog jutra u pekaru po mrve.

U komšiluku dvojica donose krevet tek venčanima

U prolazu se diveći biciklu vezanom za stub za parkiranje.

Čiji vlasnik sprema ručak bolesnoj baki

Podgreva supu i iznosi je u tanjiru.

Otvoreni su prozori, vetrić topao.

Mlada drveta u našoj ulici oduševljena su što imaju lišće.

Italijanska opera na radiju svira preglasno.

Brevi e tristi giorni visse, peva bariton.

Svi duž i preko našeg kvarta mogu čuti.

Nešto o tom da su dani ostavljeni nam na uživanje

Kratki i tužni. Ne danas, Maestro Verdi!

Kod frizera devojka đipa sa stolice,

Plava kosa odskače od golih ramena.

Dok istrčava na štiklama.

“Moram da idem” kaže lepi dečko baki.

Bicikl čeka gde ga je i ostavio

On vozi pažljivo kroz saobraćajnu gužvu

Repovi bele košulje vijore za njim

Dugo nakon što su se svi drugi naprasno zaustavili.

Preveo (za tren oka) Vladimir Pištalo

Preachers Warn

This peaceful world of ours is ready for destruction –

And still the sun shines, the sparrows come

Each morning to the bakery for crumbs.

Next door, two men deliver a bed for a pair of newlyweds

And stop to admire a bicycle chained to a parking meter.

Its owner is making lunch for his ailing grandmother.

He heats the soup and serves it to her in a bowl.

The windows are open, there’s a warm breeze.

The young trees on our street are delirious to have leaves.

Italian opera is on the radio, the volume too high.

Brevi e tristi giorni visse, a baritone sings.

Everyone up and down our block can hear him.

Something about the days that remain for us to enjoy

Being few and sad. Not today, Maestro Verdi!

At the hairdresser’s a girl leaps out of a chair,

Her blond hair bouncing off her bare shoulders

As she runs out the door in her high heels.

“I must be off,” says the handsome boy to his grandmother.

His bicycle is where he left it.

He rides it casually through the heavy traffic

His white shirttails fluttering behind him

Long after everyone else has come to a sudden stop.

The New Yorker , 01.03.2010.

Peščanik.net, 15.03.2010.

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