Humbert
by Olja Savičević IvančevićProšlo je i više vremena od onog koje je trebalo
Da može sjesti do tebe i potapšati ti glavu
S obje ruke sretna, kao bongo. Moj oče, stari ljubavniče.
Počinje period u kojem se u mislima spušta u luku
Uz bedem, ali zavoj je oštar, trga se koža sa lijeve plećke i puca karoserija
Ti svakih nekoliko ljeta tražiš ime za svoj brod
Nazoveš je i pitaš za mišljenje, govorite o roditeljima i djeci, o brakovima
Koji su uglavnom sretni i zdravlju, poslovima
Kaže ti: bio si u pravu, zaboravila sam te kao i svoje grudi prije četrnaeste
Na tebe pomisli kad vidi konduktera: bijele hlače, nikad suviše čiste
I češće se vezano uz tebe sjeti tvog malog psa koji je po dugom hodniku
Kuće kotrljao kosti. I vodoskoka.
Ali otkad se dogodila nesreća iz njenih su snova kao miševi pobjegli svi—osim tebe.
I eto te gdje se pokrećeš po čudnom nalogu, njenom
Pušiš i povlačiš klompe na krivim dlakavim nogama
A ona ide pored tebe u košuljici bez rukava
Prekratkoj da joj se ne bi vidjela stražnjica pička bedra
Uzalud je navlači i ti iako ravnodušan uviđaš njen problem
To su samo njeni snovi, ali i na javi bi joj rekao:
Ne brini, normalno hodaj, pa ja idem ispred tebe,
Uostalom, moja stara kćeri, moja mlada ljubavnice,
Sami smo na cesti, uostalom.
Humbert
by Olja Savičević IvančevićMore time passed than was necessary
For her to sit beside you and happily with both hands
tap your head like a bongo. My father, old lover.
That time starts when she imagines going down to the harbor
By the rampart, but the turn is sharp, the skin from her left shoulder tears and the chassis breaks
Every few summers you seek names for your boat
You call and ask her opinion, talk about parents and kids, about marriages
That are mostly happy and about health, work
She says: you were right, I forgot you like I forgot my fourteen-year-old breasts
She thinks of you when she sees a bus conductor: white pants, never too clean
And more often she remembers your little dog that rolled bones down the long hallway
Of the house. And the waterfalls.
But since the accident everyone ran out of her dreams like mice—except you.
And look, you now march under a strange order, hers
You smoke and drag clogs on crooked hairy legs
And she walks beside you in a sleeveless shirt
Too short to cover her ass snatch thighs
Hopelessly she pulls it down, and you, even though indifferent, see her problem
These are just her dreams, but even in reality you’d say to her:
Don’t worry, walk naturally, I’m next to you,
After all, my old daughter, my young lover,
We’re alone on the road, after all.
translated from Croatian by Andrea Jurjević