Morse, My Deaf Friend

Miloš Ðurđević
Croacia

"I'm sure somebody is speaking against me at this moment."
Josef K.

*

southern winds upon the town, the sky resembling unwashed windows
looking towards nothing – spit on the tongue, fingers in his ears


*

and the white-gray light of day seeps through again, scattered in
empty capsules it oscillates and ticks; pale rays of the false sun linger
on, as if hanging in the air, not reaching anything bringing nothing,
the murky, non-white non-dark face of the dough sun sucks in and
squeezes out the remains of the dead trees, dead grass, dead air, dead
soil, thundering without sound all night long, it can't stop, it has never
begun


*

thin, pallid cover wrapped around bare tree branches in this part of
town, over there it seems night is not over, here we are looking at the
dead light of a different sun, empty drawing, washed out contours in
dull air wrapping around the very same, too weak death, and then it
will drop it, touch it


*

from early morning silence is everywhere, with the second step we are
knee deep in water, the river without estuary springs out beneath us,
climbs up and is already frozen, it is impossible to touch that icy crust,
it bursts forth in ever larger, wet flakes, hovers for a while and then
slides around the edge, and then it is back, and then we are standing at
this and that side of the midday alone


*

and then it withdraws suddenly, two days of fierce vertigo, the loss of
basic orientation, shiftlessness and confusion like at the end of the
tunnel that suddenly ends: that side road you have somehow been sure
you should take, for a while, suddenly forces you out, into the ball of
liquid light that doesn't spill over, you are blinking, waiting, not
knowing where to go next; above you thunder echoes in waves that are
not spreading out nor flowing, not a breath of wind from anywhere


*

earth exhausts air fitfully now, flashes, slow, slowly, fettered tongue,
shadows are too deep, cold, if there are any, thin line at the bottom of
the tree trunk, of the wall: you can not hold that difference in your
mind, maybe because of the headache that gets stronger and stronger,
that flows and falls with sunrays and lifts up in the moment you enter
the shadow (which one? for how long?)


_______


*

južni vjetrovi nad gradom, nebo nalik na neoprane prozore gleda prema
ničemu – pljuvačka na jeziku, prsti u njegovim ušima


*

i opet dopire sivobijela svjetlost dana, rasuta u praznim kapsulama titra i
kucka; blijede zrake lažnog sunca zadržavaju se i kao da vise u zraku ne
dopirući ni do čega ne donoseći ništa, tmurno, ne-bijelo ne-tamno lice
sunca od tijesta upija i istiskuje ostatke mrtvih stabala, mrtvih trava,
mrtvog zraka, mrtve zemlje, nečujno tutnji i ječi cijele noći, ne može
prestati, nikada nije započelo


*

tanki, bljedunjavi pokrov ovio je gole grane stabala u ovom dijelu grada,
tamo se čini da noć još traje, ovdje gledamo mrtvu svjetlost drugog sunca,
prazan crtež, izblijedjele obrise u tupom zraku koji se omotava oko one
iste, preslabe smrti i onda će je ispustiti, dotaknuti


*

od ranog jutra tišina je posvuda, na drugom koraku do koljena smo u
vodi, rijeka bez ušća izvire ispod nas, penje i već se smrzava, tu je ledenu
koru nemoguće dotaknuti, pršti u sve većim, mokrim pahuljama, zakratko
lebdi i zatim klizi po obrubu, zatim se vraća, zatim stojimo s ove i one
strane sredine dana nasamo


*

zatim se naglo povuklo, dva dana žestoke vrtoglavice, gubitak osnovne
orijentacije, nesnalaženje i zbunjenost kao na izlazu iz tunela koji je
odjednom prekinut: taj odvojak za koji si nekako bio siguran da bi njime
trebalo nastaviti dalje, još neko vrijeme, odjednom te izbacuje van, u
kuglu žitke svjetlosti koja se ne razlijeva, žmirkaš, čekaš i ne znaš kamo
sad; iznad tebe u valovima koji se ne šire niti uviru dopiru odjeci tutnjave,
ni daška vjetra


*

zemlja sada na mahove ispušta zrak, bljeska, sporo, još sporije, sapeti
jezik, sjene su preduboke, hladne, ili ih uopće nema, tanka crta pri dnu
debla, zida: tu je razliku nemoguće zadržati u mislima, možda i zbog sve
jače glavobolje koja struji i pada sa sunčevim zrakama i podigne se u
trenutku kada se skloniš u sjenu (koju? koliko dugo?)


(Note: this is excerpt from a larger collection of poems)