H
e a r t S o n s & H e a r t D a u g h t e r s of A l l e n G i n s
b e r g
N
a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 4 : A r c h i
v e s E d i t i o n
SERHIY ZHADAN
Serbo-Croatian
The Serbian girl crosses the street
avoiding the autumn
bazaar and its hanging merchandise
she notices, that this fall there's plenty
of gold in the kerchiefs and vegetables -
the warm onion is so golden;
there's a lot of light
in the restaurants
where portraits of
Franz Joseph
hang on the walls.
The warmth of this autumn touches you too
and so does this young woman who searches
for something in her back pack,
pulling out her phone
and pencils and placing them on the table;
you'll have your
winter yet
you'll have your
dreams
but the sky grows heavier every autumn
and the devil
grabs sinners
like sugar plums
in brightly colored wrappers.
Bitter Slavic syntagmas;
she tells you she bought envelopes in the
tobacco store,
and walked to the subway
and the doves, flew down and beat against
her like rain;
because of her tale,
no one notices the sun has set,
they only notice that her cheeks
have grown somewhat darker.
Try to explain to her,
that if you don't collect
the autumn clocks in time
they simply grow over-ripe and squirt
juice on your
clothes and hands
which later attract
bees
that pierce their stingers
straight into your heart.
[Originally
published in NHS 2004, http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs04/Serhiy_Zhadan.html.]