All the languages are hers
and I remain mute.
Every street outside these borders
is polluted
with my damned thoughts.
I jerk and resist
pressed by the inertia,
if only I could get away,
air out,
wash off,
have it pass…
Why do I think
that I have no right?
That someone can possess
curiosity?
Svi su jezici njeni
i ostajem nema.
Svaka ulica izvan ovih granica
je zagađena
mojim prokletim mislima.
Gibam se i opirem
pritisnuta tromošću
samo da se udaljim,
da izvetrim,
da isperem,
da prođe…
Zašto mislim
da ja nemam prava?
Otkud da neko poseduje pokret
i pogled
i radoznalost?