JEDNA PRIJE TRUMPOVOG KRAJA CIVILIZACIJE

 

 

DRINKING BEER, THINKING OF JEFFERS

 

Drinking beer, watching the stone wall I just finished,
and thinking of Jeffers.

Sometimes what people do
with their lives
is far better
than any art they produce—
paintings, sculptures,
a book of poems,
a novel… 

Jeffers was a good poet. 

One of the few
who ended up
on the cover of Time magazine
back in the 1930s.
Of course, it means nothing,
it proves nothing.

Jeffers—
a man with a chiseled, determined face,
a tough, sinewy body,
and a voice of slow tempo, leaning on the first syllable
and long pauses at the end of the line,
as if laying stone upon stone.

Later to be
dismissed,
rejected,
pushed aside
by the literary world,
called old-fashioned,
and forgotten.

The Beat Generation
climbed up onto the stage.

Maybe Kenneth Patchen before them,
or alongside—
a different voice anyway.

But I'm drinking beer, watching my stone wall,
and thinking of Jeffers.

I always liked his
Be Angry at the Sun

But what I like the most
is how he built Hawk Tower
on a rugged coastline of Big Sur
with his own hands.

Stone by stone.

A four-floor granite tower—
each year another level.

A Tower of Songs
at the edge of the world!

Each evening, after
writing,
he would climb up
to the top,
smoke his pipe,
watching the ocean,
watching the light fade.

Contemplating.
Or just enjoying
his way of life. His existence.

He goes down,
walks a minute to his home, Tor House,
the place he also built with his own hands,
and a little help from a local builder.

His beautiful wife, Una, who never cut her hair
puts food on the table.
Vegetables from the garden, eggs and meat
from her chicken coop.

They eat. He, she,
and their twin boys. 

By the fire, they rest.
He reads his work.
Afterward, she reads aloud.
The boys read after her.

Then radio, or the gramophone. Stravinsky.
And the late-night news.

"This morning Hitler spoke in Danzig, we hear his voice."

Time to sleep now.

Maybe fuck, not to be polite.

And dream… 

Hawk Tower, Tor House,
Jeffers and his life at Big Sur.

 

A poet’s magnum opus.

 

 

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AI - translation from English

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PIJEM PIVO I RAZMIŠLJAM O ROBINSONU JEFFERSU

 

Pijem pivo, gledam kameni zid koji sam upravo dovršio,
i mislim na Jeffersa.

Kadkad je ono što ljudi rade
sa svojim životima
daleko bolje
od bilo koje umjetnosti koju stvaraju—
slike, skulpture,
knjiga poezije,
romani…

Jeffers je bio dobar pjesnik.

Jedan od rijetkih
koji je završio
na naslovnici Time Magazina
tamo negdje 1930-ih.
Naravno, to ne znači ništa,
niti dokazuje što.

Jeffers—
čovjek isklesanog, odlučnog lica,
žilavog, snažnog tijela,
i glasa sporog ritma, koji se naslanja na prvi slog,
s dugim stankama na kraju stiha,
kao da polaže kamen na kamen.

Kasnije
odbačen,
gurnut u stranu
od književnog svijeta,
proglašen zastarjelim,
izvan vremena —
zaboravljen…

Na scenu dolazi Beat Generation.

Možda Kenneth Patchen prije njih,
ili usporedno s njima —
u svakom slučaju drugačiji glas.

Ali ja pijem pivo, gledam svoj kameni zid,
i mislim na Jeffersa.

Uvijek mi se sviđala njegova
Be Angry at the Sun.

Ali ono što mi se najviše sviđa
jest kako je sagradio Hawk Tower
na surovoj obali Big Sura
vlastitim rukama.

Kamen po kamen.

Četverokatni granitni toranj—
jedna godina, jedan kat.

The tower of Songs,
na rubu svijeta!

Svake večeri, nakon
pisanja,
penjao bi se
na vrh,
pušio lulu,
gledao ocean,
i svjetlost kako isčezava.

Kontemplirao.
Ili jednostavno uživao
u svom načinu života. U svojoj egzistenciji.

Potom bi se spustio i pošao do svog doma.
Imao je svega par minuta do Tor Housa,
kuće koju je također, uz malu pomoć lokalnog majstora,
sagradio vlastitim rukama.

Njegova lijepa žena Una,
koja nikada nije šišala kosu
stavlja hranu na stol—
povrće iz svoga vrta, jaja i meso
iz kokošinjca.

Jedu. On, ona,
i njihovi sinovi blizanci.

Zatim odmaraju uz kamin.
On čita svoje radove.
Zatim ona čita naglas.
Dječaci čitaju nakon nje.

 Svira radio ili glazba s gramofona. Stravinski.

 Onda kasne vijesti.

“Ovog jutra Adolf Hitler govorio je u Gdanjsku—čujemo njegov glas.”

Vrijeme je za spavanje.

Možda jebanje, da ne budemo pristojni.

I snove.

 

Hawk Tower, Tor House,
Jeffers i njegov život u Big Suru.

 

Pjesnikov magnum opus.