Our old monk dropped in to buy shoelaces,
salt, met­al nails for a large wood­en table,
sal­ad vinegar;
but­tons for his waistcoat,
cloth for a calotte and a coat
dark silk for pocket
lining.
Rub­ber boots.

He car­ried his leather bag,
creased and dam­aged on some road,
a long belt crossed his chest
gloss­ing in that position.

Apples with thick, rough skin
lay at the bot­tom of his bag.
Doc­u­ments, on marriages,
On deaths, births.

He was pro­tect­ed by a sweater with tiny black braids
woven dur­ing a long vigil.

Long walk to his cham­bers awaited
through the woods, silence, tranquility.

Smoke from the chim­ney went up in the air.
Clear and sunny
weath­er from tomorrow.

Warm room in a small for­est house
was ready,
with kin­dling of a stove fire.

 

Trans­lat­ed by Ivana Maksić

 

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