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Original:
See original

Translation(s):
The Bliss of Departure (English)
[Translator: Charles Simic]
[Published at this site: 03.01.2009 12:28:02]

The Bliss of Departure
Radmila Lazić

Pages: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18 

Dorothy Parker Blues

Unloved. Long uncaressed.
Forgotten like washing on the line.
Neither a mad woman nor a go–getter
With my dry honeypot, my sheared something,
I want you now
You whom I never yet met.

I’m putting my black panties,
Covering my still hairy crotch
I paint my lips, fluff my hair
Climb on a pair of heels.
I’m ready for you.
Now I just have to squeeze into a tight dress
To make you gasp,
Have your heart skip a beat
When you see me like that.

We’ll meet by chance–intentionally
There were I can only be,
Where men like you don’t usually go.
That’s the kind I need, a fellow
Who’ll take me home right away
Knowing what he wants to do.

I don’t need any preliminaries.
Like: Have you read so and so?
Would you like to hear something classical
Or do you prefer the blues?
I heard all that before
Like weather forecasts and correct time announcements.

Let me get to the matter at hand:
I give you the visa
To my body––my homeland,
Once a good piece,
Even now to be discarded just like that.
My skin is velvet on the inside,
Like iris.
Smell it. Taste it.
The moment you lock the door
Press me against it
And start kissing me
Lower and lower.
If you won’t do it to me, I’ll do it to you.
My body, so wintry a moment ago,
Is now a bush full of wild bees.

I squandered this and that
But I know what I know.
It’s high time—I’m in a panic.
My years rode an express train
Loaded with all kinds of luggage
A romance or two, an occasional flirt
Then off to old clothes shop.

I need you, sugar.
I’m offering you a chance,
Rub, cross out
The chalk marks on a blackboard,
Wipe my gloomy days, my empty days.
Add a few needed words,
Unlock where I was bolted.

I don’t need a drink.
No music, mo sweet nothings.
What I want is a good a fuck
In the dark or with the lights on—it doesn’t matter
I’m writing my life hour by hour

I don’t care about other people’s stories
I like to grab and scratch
Like that cat on a hot tin roof
Sizzling with desire.
Oh, I don’t know how to hold my tongue.
I talk too much, yelp about private things.

 


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