Woman from Srebrenica
by Hadzem Hajdarevic
Srebrenicanka
Moja je kuca strijeljana u ratu
i ni za mezar njezin ne znam.
A danas se pitam je li to zaista
bila moja kuca, u kuci moj otac,
uz oca moja majka, i moja
vec davno pomrla braca,
i sestre, jesam li to bila ja
u kuci ciju urnu pod jezikom
nosim. U kuci sam sretala
rodake koji vec davno bjezahu
od zavicaja, a danas u dalekim
vodama vec postaju ribe sa skrgama
od zlata. Zato, sve cesce u ribljim
restoranima od Kolna do Kuala Lumpura
iz tanjira vadim sjetne oci prijatelja
iz djetinjstva. Niz grlo klize njihova
topla riblja srca. Pitam se jesam li to bila ja
u zemlji ciju okrvavljenu glavu
pod tudim pazuhom nosim.
Ni�ta vise nije moje, niti je ikad
bilo moje. I sjecanje trpim kao rijeku
ponornicu koja me razdvaja
u dvoje, koja me raznosi u hiljadu
i jednu deltu, na sve cetiri strane
svijeta, da nikada vise
ne pomislim na prag preko kojeg
u posljednjem trenu utekoh u svijet.
Woman from Srebrenica
My house was shot in the war
And I don't know where even its grave lies.
But today I wonder if it really was
my house, in the house my father,
my mother beside him, and my
brothers and sisters long ago
extinct, was it I
in the house whose urn I bear
beneath my tongue. In the house I would meet
cousins, who long ago fled
their birthplace and today in distant
waters are already becoming fish with
golden gills. That is why, ever more often in
fish restaurants from Cologne to Kuala Lumpur,
I take from my plate the melancholy eyes of my childhood
friends. Their warm fish hearts
slide down my throat. I wonder if it was I
in the land whose bloodied head I bear
beneath another's arm.
Nothing is mine any longer, nor
has ever been mine. I endure even memory like
a lost river that divides me into two,
that tears me apart into a thousand
and one deltas, to the four corners of the
earth, so that I may never more
give a thought to the threshold over which
at the last moment I escaped into the world.
11 July 1997
English translation by Andrea Lesic
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