WHAT THE GOOD OR EVIL IS, NO ONE CAN KNOW. ONLY THE ONE THAT CREATES, MAYBE.
Janko Polić Kamov: Selected Short Stories and Poems (1997)
I shall rape you, you white, innocent paper;
huge is my passion and you’ll hardly be able to take it;
you’re dodging my rage and you’re white with terror;
a kiss on your paleness — my kisses are black.
There is no law above you and all the laws are dead for me;
I flee from them and my flight is swift;
I passed the place where bent necks do crawl,
where dogs rejoice in orgies and where licking is their harlotry.
You’re eluding me, you timid hind, trembling like the first shame;
Tempting is the innocence and insanity is its echo;
I’m frantic, oh, my paper, and rage flickers in my eye.
Pious is this nation, with tails between their legs;
there’s no sincerity in their eyes and wandering is their walk;
sniffing’s their job, richly paid for it;
there’s no place for me among them and my word’s offensive;
I’m swallowing my thougts and I’ll be drowned by my shame.
Halt, my love, and listen to my pain;
you admit the human word and an ass does not yet understand the man;
oxen drag the plow and the enslavement brings them hay;
a little horse carrying a boyar, its hair is shiny;
a hog is feeding richly, its meat nice and tasty:
the laws are slender and harsh and the stables are filled with oats.
Do not elude me, you kissed girl, there’s no woman for me;
they don’t give themselves for nervous pecks and tense complexion;
oh, I have no gold, and can have no diplomas without it.
I love you, my paper, and warm is my love;
warm as my blood and frantic as my fury.
Give yourself forever — black are my kisses;
black are my kisses, with rosy blood within them.
Translated by Damir Biličić