| Diwan Special issue|

Zvonko Kovač

Born in 1951 in Donja Dubrava (Croatia), lives in Zagreb (Croatia).

I am thinking, you are leafy inside me like the most beautiful southern tree

I am thinking, you are leafy inside me like the most beautiful southern tree, your uneven knees, long neck, careless hair, warm-coloured dress, are more real than any other woman’s, in a picture. I am calm, I am only sporadically excited by my work, which torments me beyond its awards, because of the misery, the moral misery of the country we live in, our homeland. No, you do not have the allure of a superficial, sensual woman, in you the fire of fine wisdom kindles, of a lucid gaze, of unfaithful eyes that run away in a dreamy direction. I love to complete abandon, carelessness, your lips, face, more meaningful and more sure of itself. Stay, without vanity in your countenance, my quiet pain, distant suffering, happiness in being. The very soul of my better years, the kindness, that bound us. In the distant, unreal space, the meaning and cause of love still hover above me, like the final oath, of unspent faith. Although we have not talked about fidelity for a long time now.

With the remains of consciousness I touch the unreality of the world

With the remains of consciousness I touch the unreality of the world, its cold happiness and warm pain. With seemingly senseless words, I touch the trees. Love is when you love a city without leaves, an unbathed woman, a friend in need, when you love their naked essence. On the other side, in books, in spaces between words: an egg white in a glass, a snowflake in a dream, knees. Laughter in streams, a great heart of strength, energy. Somewhat tipsy, we are inaccessible to ourselves, in the confusion of the world, the disorder of emotions. We could still love each other, somewhere in mountain vacation houses, but you forget, though alone, about the valley and city. And I kiss you in my thoughts, in the distances. The one to whom I belong falls into my embraces. Between the blue heavens and the black night a glimmer of redemption rises. In the curtains warm air twitches its nostrils. I feign, sleepless solitude in abundance.

Translated by Ulvija Tanović

 

[predhodna stranica][sadržaj][sljedeća stranica]

©Copyright Diwan 2002. Sva prava zadržana.
Preporučeno 800*600 ili više, Central European Windows-1250 encoding.

Sve primjedbe i prijedloge šaljite na diwanmagazine@hotmail.com