Smrt puši moje cigare

Znaš: Ponovo sam ovde

Ineke Kamps

I pijan

I slušam Čajkovskog na radiju.

Isuse, čuo sam ga pre 47 godina

Kada sam bio izgladneli pisac

I sada evo ga

Ponovo

Sada kada sam stekao delimičnu slavu

Kao pisac

I smrt šeta ovom sobom

Gore-dole

Pušeći moje cigare

Cirkajući moje vino

Dok Čajk uporno odrađuje

Svoju Pathetique,

Kakav je to samo put bio

I sva sreća koja me je zadesila bila je

Samo zato što sam kockice bacio

Kako treba:

Ginuo sam za svoju umetnost,

Ginuo sam da se dokopam

5 prokletih minuta, 5 sati

5 dana -

Sve što sam želeo bilo je da izbacim

Reč iz sebe

Slava, novac nisu bili važni:

Ja sam želeo da izbacim tu reč iz sebe

A oni su me želeli za štanc-presom,

Fabričkom trakom

Želeli su da budem magacioner u

Robnoj kući.

Pa, kaže smrt, prolazeći sobom,

Svejedno ću te ščepati

Ma šta bio:

Pisac, taksista, svodnik, kasapin,

Padobranac, ščepaću te.

Važi, srce, kažem joj.

I sada pijemo zajedno

Dok jedan po ponoći polako prelazi u dva

Po ponoći i

Samo ona zna pravi trenutak

Ali sam je ipak zajebao:

Izvukao sam svojih

5 prokletih minuta

i još mnogo

preko toga.

_____________

You know: I’m drunk once again
here
listening to Tchaikovsky
on the radio.
Jesus, I heard him 47 years
ago
when I was a starving writer
and here he is
again
and now I am a minor success as
a writer
and death is walking
up and down
this room
smoking my cigars
taking hits of my
wine
as Tchaik is working away
at the Pathetique,
it’s been some journey
and any luck I’ve had was
because I rolled the dice
right:
I starved for my art, I starved to
gain 5 god-damned minutes, 5 hours,
5 days-
I just wanted to get the word
down;
fame, money, didn’t matter:
I wanted the word down;
And “they” wanted me to be a stock boy in a
department store.

well, death says, as he walks by,
I’m going to get you anyhow
no matter what you’ve been:
writer, cab driver, pimp, butcher,
sky-diver, I’m going to get
you….

o.k. baby, I tell him.

We drink together now
As one a.m. slides to 2
a.m. and
only he knows the
moment, but I worked a con
on him: I got my
5 god-damned minutes
and much
more.

smrt puši moje cigare / death is smoking my cigars  

Charles Bukowski