Darko Rundek

na trgu
između štandova posranih golubova
bogati starac je pronašao dijete
malo crno dijete
koje je s golubovima letjelo iznad trga i sletjelo u njegov džep
ah
tko će ponijeti ovo dijete ako neću ja
rekao je bogati starac i ponio ga na svoje imanje na sjeveru Škotske

OVA RUKA NIJE MIRNA
OVA KOSA NIJE SVILA
GLAVA NEPRESTANO SVIRA
JER JOJ MAJMUN DIRIGIRA

TO ŠTO ŽELI TOGA NEMA
VANI NEVRIJEME SE SPREMA
ON BI URLAO AL ŠUTI
JER GA NITKO NEĆE ČUTI

ON JE STIGAO SA JUGA
U TIM OČIMA JE TUGA
SRCE PALE ČEZNJE VRUĆE
ALI SVE JE NEMOGUĆE

NEMA OCA, NEMA MAJKE
UVIJEK SLOMI SVE ŠTO TAKNE
SVE ŠTO BILO MU JE SVETO
SAD JE BAČENO U GETO

Istambul na Grenlandu
pingvini sa fotoaparatima
i grenlandski Turci
hladnih ruku
zaleđenih brkova
jašući na svojim bijelim medvjedima
sa plamenim mačevima u ruci
prodaju led
prodaju led
a onda se tu pojavi lažni sin
nezakoniti prestolonasljednik
ciganka
dimnjačar
i dvoje lukave dječice
koja vode cijelu igru
dvoje lukave dječice
 

in the square
between the stands where pigeons crap
a rich old man
found a little black baby
who flew over the square with the pigeons
and landed in his pocket
ah
who will take this baby if I don’t
said the rich old man and took it to his
property in the north of Scotland

this hand is not peaceful
this hair is not silken
the head plays music all the time
because a monkey is conducting
what he wants exists no more
outside the storm is brewing
he would like to scream but doesn’t
because there’s no-one to hear

he came from the South
in these eyes is sadness
the heart burns with hot desires
but nothing is possible
no father, no mother
he breaks everything he touches
all that was sacred to him
has been thrown into the ghetto

Istambul in Greenland
Penguins with cameras
And Greenlandish Turks
With cold hands
Frozen moustaches
Riding on white bears
With burning swords in hand
Selling ice
Selling ice
And then a false son appears
Illegal heir to the throne
A gipsy woman
A chimney-sweep
And two crafty children
Who are calling the shots
Two crafty children