Kao što se i u prošlosti dešavalo
opet će požutjeti smokvino lišće
u vrtu sestrine mi kuće
na uglu Kasla i Adanac streeta
i opet će sablasno ogoljele grane
rastjerati izgladnjele dugokljune čvorke
Potom će ubrzo ispod gustih obrva oblaka
zasuziti zelene oči Grouse Mountaina
jer ovdje i kad ne kiši kiši u duši
i zluradi Pacifik ne miruje nikada
Sve će se ponoviti iz ranijih vremena
oronulo i uvenulo cvijeće opet će nicati
upijajući čarolije svjetlosti sunca
i opet će se sav ovaj prazni prostor
ispuniti drskošću onih istih ptica
A ja ću već tada u dosluhu s mojim morem
biti najbliži sebi makar ću snivati
prve snjegove na vrhovima ovih bregova
samo ne znam hoće li biti mjesta za čuđenje?
(Vancouver, 21. 9. 1988.)
_____________________________________
IN EXPECTATION OF THE FIRST SNOW
Like it used to happen in the past
again the fig leaf will go sere
in the house of my cousin’s house
on the corner of Kasla and Adanac
and again the spectrally bared branches
will drive away the famished
long-beaked starlings
Then soon below the thick brows of clouds
the green eyes of Grouse Mountain fill with tears
for here when it does not rain it rains in spirit
the ill-boding Pacific never stills
All from earlier times will be repeated
the decrepit and faded flowers will sprout again
imbibing the magic of the solar light
and again this entire empty space
will fill with the brazenness of those birds
But then shall I complicit with my sea
be closest to myself at least I’ll dream
the first snow on the peaks of these hills
only I know not if there’ll be room for wonder.
(Vancouver, September 21, 1988
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