Psychedelic Fur

 

Doing business with God
I became his street dealer
waiting for
the lonely & the desperate
always in the same spot
always in the same leather jacket
always in same dusty shoes

I grew up in the dark
watching the light flicker
around the chosen ones
and I was ready to explode in my corner  
and save my soul and maybe yours too
and the souls of all souls
but someone did that long before me
he was given a chance and crucified
all what’s left for me are
these four walls & the city
and that’s all I’ve got

exiled among people
I sell love
to blind passers-by
hell’s symphonies
and fat children
always hungry
I walk
always down the same street
always with chapped lips
always in the same dirty jeans

you know me
but you never say: hello
your breasts
graze me in passing
your touch
reminds me of futility
your T-shirt says :
poets always mess around with eternity

God’s phone is ringing
but he doesn’t have the time
to pick up the receiver
he packs and sends suffering to the faithful
humanitarian aid to the saints
he really takes good care
of his sad circus    

the phone rings
but he’s busy
and lets things happen
the way they will happen
and I carry
my hairy heart
in a wooden box
always on the same street
always in the same park
always in the same leather jacket
with a raised collar

I wanted to tell you
sometimes I feel so lonely
when I stand
I look people straight in the eyes
that mirror sorrow                    
sad violins
from the grey suburbs
lust is everywhere
the earth’s weary with the weight
my T-shirt says:
only suffering belongs to the people

I stand
always in the same park
bit by bit I sell
my life away
always to the same people
your breasts graze me in passing
and the dark whirl of passion
lingers behind
toothless elegies

I wanted to tell you that
I’m used to the solitude
it doesn’t hurt
just smolders
and if desire’s flame sparks up
that will be the end
fire is the devil
Satan of a thousand greedy tongues
he comes for the soul
personally
and vanishes with it

doing business with God
I’m still his street dealer
exiled among people
I wait for
the lonely & the desperate
that’s my only job
I don’t own a watch
or keys
I parked
my rusty used car
behind the building over there
I wait
always in the same place
always in same dusty shoes
always with the raised collar
you know me
but you never say: hello

I grew up in the dark
envying painters
who turned earthly figures
into heavenly beings
envying
the bums & the madmen
they never              
messed around with people
communism & real estate
they never
applauded the victors

my park is my workplace
I have to fill the quota
I stand and look around
always on guard
my days
scattered like confetti
tossed off the roof of a skyscraper
you know
things have reached their limit
when longing becomes lust
and suicide
hunger for life

I still travel within myself
I entered the world of crooked lines
my mirrors
have become vistas
my head
is still my only home

sixteen hours of thinking a day
why did all the greatest philosophers
long to be poets
in my room
a dented tin plate
full of cigarette butts
and empty beer bottles
patiently awaiting their bags

the future is bright & insufferable
as I crawl along solitude’s walls
I hear bells
sometimes I wish someone would kiss
my chapped lips
sometimes I see
shadows leave their objects

I’ll demand
a shorter workday
higher daily wage
a foot massage
I need attention
a velvet theater with feathers
and high heels
that
that’s exactly what I wanted to tell you

suffering isn’t noble
and it’s so hard
when you turn your head away
and pass me by
your breasts
touch me in passing
your T-shirt says
something that really disturbs me

you know what I mean

 

[Translated from Serbian to English by Ana Božićević]

 

 

Psihodelično krzno

 

Trgujući s Bogom
postao sam njegov ulični diler
čekam
usamljene i očajne
uvek na istom mestu
uvek u istoj kožnoj jakni
uvek u istim prašnjavim cipelama

odrastao sam u mraku
i gledao kako treperi svetlost
oko izabranih
i bio spreman da eksplodiram u svom uglu
i spasim svoju a možda i tvoju dušu
i duše svih duša
ali to je jedan već učinio davno pre mene
njemu su dali šansu i razapeli ga
meni su ostala samo
četiri zida i grad
i to je jedino što imam

proteran među ljude
prodajem
ljubav slepim prolaznicima
simfonije iz pakla
i debelu decu
uvek gladnu
prolazim
uvek istom ulicom
uvek ispucalih usana
uvek u istim prljavim farmerkama

ti me poznaješ
ali mi nikad ne kažeš: zdravo
tvoje grudi
me okrznu u prolazu
tvoj dodir
me podseti na uzaludnost
na tvojoj majici piše:
pesnici uvek nešto petljaju s večnošću

telefon zvoni kod Boga
ali on nema vremena
da podigne slušalicu
pakuje i šalje patnju vernicima
humanitarnu pomoć svecima
on zaista brine o svom
tužnom cirkusu

telefon zvoni
ali on je zauzet
i pušta da se stvari dešavaju
onako kako se dešavaju
a ja nosim svoje
dlakavo srce u drvenoj kutiji
uvek u istoj ulici
uvek u istom parku
uvek u istoj kožnoj jakni
s podignutom kragnom

hteo sam da ti kažem
da se ponekad osećam
tako usamljen
dok stojim
gledam ljude pravo u oči
one su ogledala tuge
tužne violine
iz sivih predgrađa
požuda je svuda
zemlja je umorna od tolike težine
na mojoj majici piše :
jedino patnja pripada ljudima

stojim
uvek u istom parku
prodajem parče po parče
svog života
uvek istim ljudima
tvoje grudi me okrznu u prolazu
i tamni vrtlog strasti ostaje
iza bezubih elegija

hteo sam da ti kažem
da sam naviknut na samoću
ona ne boli
samo tinja
i ako se pojavi plamen požude
biće to kraj
vatra je đavo
sotona sa hiljadu pohlepnih jezika
koji dolazi po dušu
lično
i nestaje s njom

trgujući s Bogom
i dalje sam njegov ulični diler
proteran među ljude
čekam
usamljene i očajne
to je moj jedini posao
ne posedujem sat
ni ključeve
parkirao sam
zarđali polovni automobil
iza susedne zgrade
čekam
uvek na istom mestu
uvek u istim prašnjavim cipelama
uvek s podignutom kragnom
ti me poznaješ
ali mi nikada ne kažeš: zdravo

odrastao sam u mraku
i zavideo slikarima
koji su zemaljske likove
pretvarali u nebeska bića
zavideo
skitnicama i ludacima
oni nikada nisu
petljali s ljudima
komunizmom i nekretninama
oni nikada nisu
aplaudirali pobednicima

moj park je moje radno mesto
moram da ispunim normu
stojim i osvrćem se
uvek na oprezu
moji dani
rasuti su kao konfete
bačene sa krova solitera
znaš
stvari su doterane do granice
kad čeznja postaje požuda
a samoubistvo
glad za životom

još uvek putujem kroz sebe
ušao sam u svet krivih linija
moja ogledala
postala su predeli
moja glava
i dalje je
moja jedina kuća

šesnaest sati razmišljanja dnevno
zašto su svi najveći filozofi
žudeli da budu pesnici
u mojoj sobi
iskrivljen limeni tanjir
pun je opušaka
i prazne boce od piva
strpljivo čekaju svoje kese

budućnost je svetla i nepodnošljiva
dok puzim uz zidove samoće
čuju se zvona
ponekad poželim da neko poljubi
moje ispucale usne
ponekad vidim
kako senke napuštaju predmete

tražiću
skraćivanje radnog vremena
povećanje dnevnice
masiranje stopala
potrebna mi je pažnja
plišano pozorište s perjem
i visokim potpeticama
to
baš to sam želeo da ti kažem

patnja nije otmena
i tako je teško kad okreneš glavu
i prođeš pored mene
tvoje grudi
me dodirnu u prolazu
na tvojoj majci piše nešto
što me zaista uznemiruje

znaš na šta mislim