JANKO "oLle KAMOV
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I cannot draw one conclusion out of all this! One idea! One feeling!
One beliefl One dt:cision'
Analysis has made me distracted , lost, impotent and confused. At the
funeral I walked as properly, normally and mechanically like everyone else,
even though I felt so distractt:d and lost. Those steps still resound in my
ears; they resound to eternity. If I think of the future and if I remember
the past.
I wander through tht: wood. It is getting dark. My brothers are gone.
My mother invited my aunt to stay with her. Leaves are rustling. The path
is white. The lamps are shining. Stars are emerging in the sky. I search for
forgetfulness and a synthesis. The warm summer night is creeping through
the branches, through my senses, through my disappointed youth, and I
think of Anka. I go to the brothel again. Again I get color in my cheeks,
I come to life and become stronger. Synthesis is in forgetfulness.
Forgetfulness is in passion .
I'm holding Zora and in my fervor I pretend
to
be holding Anka.
No, tonight I am not going home. My house is here, where there are
no considerations, no uneasiness and bad conscience.
My body is flourishing. My energy solidifying. My ego synthesizing.
It only costs ten crowns, but is worth the whole dowry and beauty of
my beloved.
No, I'm not going homt:.
Seven in the morning. My knees are giving in. My youth is dying.
['11
sleep like the dead. Slet:p too is both forgetfulness and synthesis. The red
and rising morning sun reflects ofT me just like the setting sun reflected
the lighted death candles ofT the window.
I had a few glasses of plum brandy. I'll sleep even deeper and longer.
All my youth shall pass in forgetfulness, passion and sleep; and if I grow
old, I shall give Jdvice to my children .
Translated from the Croatian
by
Ljiljana Scuric
