Palce na nohách som mala modré, no aj tak sa mi ľudia hnusili.

Napísala som báseň,

takú tu

               ready-made

ako o nich hovorí Kolenič,

no telo si stále trávilo tie

steny

okná

dvere.

Dvere! Tak zbytočné, keď aj tak nikde nebolo miesto

kde by som sa za nimi mohla skrútiť,

zavzlykať si ako ženy zvyknú.

Nikde nebol pár rúk,

taký čisto

                 home-made

čo by ma vedel zabiť z tohto

pop-art fungovania.

Chcela som si vygúgliť nový nos medzi očami,

priateľov,

nové lavičky pred bytovkou.

Na nič neboli peniaze!

Piť za tie obrázky nahraté v stenách

a telách okolo.

Zohriať si nohy vo veľkých papučiach.

Žiadny deň sa nevtesnal do nohavíc.

Všetko bolo príliš na mieru.

The toes on my feet were blue and still people made me sick

I wrote a kind of

                  ready – made poem

as Kolenič says,

but my body

was still digesting

walls,

windows,

door.

Door! So useless because there was no place for me

to curl up and sob

behind them

like women use to do.

There was nowhere a pair of hands

so purely

                  home – made

that would be able to kill me

from my pop – art living.

I wanted to google for a new nose between my eyes,

friends,

new benches in front of my block of flats.

There was no money for that!

I wanted to drink for those pictures

recorded on walls and in the bodies around,

I wanted to warm up my feet in big slippers.

None of the days fit into trousers.

Everything was tailor – made.

Sme ako oči, cez ktoré vidíš skafandre

ticho sú klince ktoré sa zasekávajú medzi prsty

keď už nevládzeš počúvať ľudí.

keď ti z nich odpadávajú nechty ako gombíky na hrdzavom klarinete

a ty chrčíš,

obchádzaš pokožky ,mokré pavučiny vyrastené na telách

ktoré už od dávna oblizuješ od ľudí.

v tichu ti obočie vráža priťažké šraubováky do tela

vyrastá do priúzkych potrubí

a prikrátke vlasy mu padajú z očí,

akoby ich chceli obliznúť celkom do prázdna.

ticho sú dva poltóny celkom krehkého poprsia baleríny

zaveseného nad našimi hlavami

necháš ho v dvojpohlavných poliach kysnúť,

vyťahať korienky do šediva a líca do modra,

odkvapkať napriek všetkému vrstveniu informácií priamo

do tela

We are like eyes that can see spacesuits

Silence is like nails that are getting stuck between fingers,

when you have hardly enough strength

to listen to people,

when nails drop down from them like buttons on a rusty clarinet,

and you make a rough noise

while bypassing skins, wet cobwebs grown on bodies

that you have been licking for a long time

in order to find people.

In silence the eyebrows are stabbing screwdrivers too hard into the body.

it grows into too narrow pipings

and hair too short are falling from its eyes

as if they wanted to lick them entirely into the emptiness.

Silence is like two semitones of a quite fragile bosom of a ballerina

hung over our heads

you will let it ferment in the bisexual fields,

colour the roots grey and cheeks blue

and although all the interlaced information

you will let it drain straight

into the body.

Všetko sa dá, len treba nemať peniaze. .

Dnes poobede som sedela v tom našom trojizbovom byte

a zatúžila po garzónke.

Odrezala som dve izby.

Zostalo mi na chleba.

Everything is possible, it needs only not to have money .

Today in the afternoon I was sitting in our three – room flat

and began longing for a kitchenette apartment.

I cutoff two rooms

and still had enough for bread.