09/12/2014

Prica jednog jastuka

Kada bi jastuci progovorili nebo bi se smejalo i plakalo . Mnoge bi se knjige

mogle napisati.
Stavljam glavu na jastuk s namerom da spavam, ali ipak budna sanjam neke
skrivene zelje i tajne.
Znam da nije san , ali isto tako nije ni java.
U parku sam , citam kjigu i zamisljeno gledam u nebesko plavetnilo.
Osecam samo ruke na ocima , poznate i daleke. Cujem melodicni glas koji mi
dira najdublje delove srca. Znam da je to covek kog sam cekala i o kome sam
mastala dok ga nije bilo, za kojim sam nocima plakala i ujutru bila nasmejana da
niko ne vidi tugu u ocima . Taj dodir mami suze na mom licu i padam , mrtva ,
gubim sve i postajem mrtvac. Posle toliko cekanja i masatanja dosao je davno
odbegli gost mog vecito zaljubljenog srca. Ne pitam ko je , vec mu odmah
pruzam ruku , koju vise ne osecam , jer odavno nije moja. Neko kog sam davno
zakopala oziveo je i opet je tu , padam mu u zagrljaj . Osecam se kao neko ko je
pobegao od opasnosti i sad uziva u toplini sigurnog doma . Bez razmisljanja
prihvatam da ostarimo zajedno sa nasim unucicima.
A onda se cuje zvuk mobilnog telefona i eto je surova realnost . Nema vise parka
ni onih toplih ruku ,niti tople zagrljaja.

When he spoke pillows sky would be laughing and crying. Many would be able
to write a book.
I rest my head on the pillow with the intent to sleep, but daydreamed some
hidden desires and secrets.
I know it's not a dream, but I also did not java.
In the park I read the book and stares wistfully into the clear sky.
I feel just hands on the eyes, known and distant. I hear melodic voice that
touches the deepest parts of my heart. I know this is a man you've been waiting
for and about which I dreamed while he was gone, for the nights that I cried and
smiling in the morning was that no one could see the sadness in his eyes. That
touch lures tears on my face and I fall dead, I lose everything and become
defunct. After so much waiting and masatanja came long ago escaped guest
eternally in love of my heart. Do not ask who he is, but he immediately stretched
out his hand, you no longer feel as long ago not mine. Someone whom I have
long ago buried and was revived again here, I fall into his arms. I feel like
someone who has escaped from danger and now enjoys the warmth of a safe
home. Without hesitating, I accept to grow old together with our grandchildren.
And then I heard the sound of a mobile phone and there is a harsh reality. No
more stock is not the warm hand, neither warm embrace