O NEKIM GRADOVIMA U MOJIM STIHOVIMA
NEĆU VAM REĆI IME GRADA
Neću vam reći ime grada
u kom me moji koraci još traže.
Neću vam reći ime grada
čiji su mostovi duži i od života.
Neću vam reći ime grada
nad kojim je nebo bilo kao šatorsko krilo.
Neću vam reći ime grada
u kome naučih da kad stignem uvek ponovo krenem.
Neću vam reći ime grada
koji nikad ne podleže zubu vremena.
Neću vam reći ime grada
u kome sretoh i one druge oči boje oblaka.
Neću vam reći ime grada
u kome sam kucala na svoja vrata iznutra.
Neću vam reći ime grada
koji bejaše premali kavez za moja krila.
I AM NOT GOING TO TELL YOU THE NAME OF THE CITY
I am not going to tell you the name of the city
in which my steps are still searching for me.
I am not going to tell you the name of the city
whose bridges are longer than life.
I am not going to tell you the name of the city
under whom even the sky was like a canvas tent.
I am not going to tell you the name of the city
in which I learned to start up a new journey as soon as I arrive.
I am not going to tell you the name of the city
which is never to grow old.
I am not going to tell you the name of the city
in which I met the eyes with the color of the sky.
I am not going to tell you the name of the city
in which I was knocking on my own doors from inside.
I am not going to tell you the name of the city
which was a cage far too small for my wings.
TEBI GOVORIM
Neću da ti gledam ograde.
Ne zanima me
ni da li je trava zelenija
sa druge strane
Neću da se
dok sam tu,
kockam sa životom
i gubim u tvom mraku!
Neću ni da preskačem
sve te žive ograde.
Tebi govorim!
hej, grade!
I dok ulice tvoje
tuđe korake broje,
ja se vraćam sebi
u tebi.
I AM TALKING TO YOU
I will not look at your fences.
I do not want to know
if the grass is really greener
on the other side!
I will not, while here
play with my life.
I will not get lost
in your darkness!
I will not jump over
your fences.
I am talking to you,
my dear town!
And while your streets
are counting
somebody else’s steeps,
it is in you
that I am returning
to … myself.
MAKARSKA
Makarska
još nodi
beskrajne nizove
naših koraka
i more
naših uzdaha.
U Makraskoj
doživesmo i to
da vidimo
kako tužno
na moru
umire leto.
RIM
Jeseni jedne
ostale su iza mene
fontane,
parkovi,
trgovi
popločane ulice
i sva istorija
večnog Rima.
Tog novembra
Rim je
ušao u moje rime.
Volim te,
Rime!
Volim i tebe,
i tvoje ruine
i tvoje ime.
U LONDONU
Na rubu zaborava
igraju se senke
i gase mi sećanja.
Dah novog vremena
puni mi grudi.
London je stvaran
i u njemu su stvarni ljudi,
jer dele sudbinu onih,
koje je nekakva muka
naterala da polete…
Onih, koji žele
da zaborave
devetsto devedesete…
IN LONDON
On the edges
of forgetfulness
there are some shadows
playing
and erasing
my memories.
The new time
is in my chest.
London is as real
as the people in it.
People,
shearing the same fate.
People,
that arrived to London
too late.
People, wishing to forget
the pain
which the wars meant.
I ON HOĆE U LONDON
On prati
svaku moju stopu.
I uvek se
mota oko mene.
I on hoće u London.
A nema ni pasoša,
niti može stati
u moje kofere.
I on hoće u London.
On je iz Srbije.
Njegovo ime je Džoni.
Džoni je moje kuče.
HE WANTS TO GO TO LONDON, TOO
He follows me
and always
stays around me.
He wants to go to London.
Yet he has no passport,
nor can I put him in my suitcases.
He wants to go to London, too.
He is from Serbia.
His name is Johnny.
Johnny is my doggy.
ŽIVOT U PROVINCIJI
Danas
nekako
teško pričamo,
jer pritisnuti brigama
mnogo mislimo.
Danas
je provincija u nama
mnogo više
nego
mi u njoj.
LIFE IN THE PROVINCE
Today,
here
in the west of Serbia,
we talk with the difficulties.
Pressed with the worries
we think a lot.
Today
the province
is in us
even more
than we are
in it.
NIŠTA VIŠE NIJE KAO PRE
Iako na prvi pogled izgleda isto,
ovo je ipak neki drugi London.
Pun je miševa. I pacova.
Baš im odgovara klima ova.
Ovo je London bezmalo bez turista.
Uplašili se novih terorista.
Gledamo se u nedoumici. Ovo je isti grad,
samo su sad u njemu drugi glumci.
A ja dođoh opet, preko sivih drumova
i sivih oblaka, do ovih uspavanih umova.
Ovde sam, jer neću da budem glas
požutele slike sa zida.
Hoću da na njeno mesto
okačim sve svoje zablude. Što pre.
Ovde sam već dugo.
Dobar dan engleska recesijo. I tugo.
I hladno mi je. Ni zimi ni leti
ovde čizme ne izlaze iz mode.
Znam, ne uklapam se
u već napravljene ramove.
Ostaću ja samo jeka
što povremeno odzvanja. Izdaleka.
Kad kažem: Ovde sam…
Kao i da nisam. A biću. I jesam.
London, 8-08-2008
NOTHING IS AS IT USED TO BE
Although on first sight it looks the same.
this is a different London.
It is full of mice. And rats.
They do like this climate.
This London is without tourists.
They must be afraid of the new terrorists.
We are exchanging silent looks.
The city is still the same. The actors are not.
I arrived again over grey roads with the rains
to the society of sleeping brains.
I am here because I do not want to be the voice
from the wall’s picture, which is gone yellow.
I wish to hang up all my illusion instead.
Right on that wall! Before I am dead.
I have been here far too long .
Hello to the English credit crunch. Hello to its sadness.
I should be constantly wearing boots.
Hello to the unbearable coldness.
I know. I am different by my name.
I do not fit in the already made a frame.
I will remain as an echo sound,
just occasionally touching the ground.
When I say that I am here it sounds that am not.
Still I will remain. No matter what.
London, 8-08-2008
I am talking to you
I will not look at your fences.
I do not want to know
if the grass is really greener
on the other side!
I will not, while here
play with my life.
I will not get lost
in your darkness!
I will not jump over
your live fences.
hedges
I am talking to you,
my dear town!
And while your streets
are counting
somebody else’s steeps,
it is in you
that I am returning
…to myself.
radio gornji grad 
