Život penzionera
A Pensioner's Life
Penzioner svakog danapismonošu željno čeka.Za nagradu svome radušto je rint'o pola vijeka.
Every day the pensionerwaits for when the postman's due:his reward for all the slavinghalf a century right through.
Cijelo vrijeme mašta, sanja,što će moći sve da kupi."Kupit ću si drva sada,dok još zima ne nastupi."
All the time he dreams and museswhat he'll buy, the things he'll get:"Now I'll buy myself some firewood,while the winter's not here yet."
"A za drugu mirovinu,graha, luka i krumpira."Tako mašta penzioner,da u zimu ima mira.
"With the pension after that:onions, beans, potatoes, too."So the pensioner is dreaming,peace to see the winter through.
Oko prvog vrat izvijastalno gleda na ulicu."Opet kasni listonoša,da mi dade penzijicu."
On the first he cranes his neck,keeps the street in constant view:"Once again the postman's late,with my little pension due."
Kad mu poštar sve izbroji,penzioner se prekrsti:"Zar su ovu crkavicu,zaradili moji prsti?"
When the postman counts it out,he will cross himself, and say:"Is this pittance what these fingersearned me, working day by day?"
U bradu se gnjevno smrsii na prste nešto broji:mlijeko, struja, plin i voda,gdje su drva, ljudi moji?
In his beard he mutters, cross,counts on fingers, one by one:milk and power, gas and water;where's the firewood, folks? There's none!
"Što ću sada za zimnicui za ova drva skupa?"Od muke se penzioner,u vlastitom znoju kupa.
"How will I buy winter stores,and this pricey wood?" he'll fret;in his anguish the pensionerbathes all over in his sweat.
Na to krene na ulicu,da si malko živce smiri.Tu dućani načičkani,pa kroz izlog on proviri.
So he goes out in the street,just to calm his nerves somehow;shops are crammed there, row on row,and he peeks through a window now.
Kad ugleda strašne cijene,u šaku se zgrče prsti.On drhtavu ruku digne,drugi put se tad prekrsti.
When he sees the frightful prices,his fingers clench up, and thenhe will lift his trembling hand,crossing himself once again.
Sav umoran i bez volje,kraj radija tad će sjesti.Mirovine malo rastu,na radiju nove vijesti.
Weary, with his spirit spent,by the radio he'll stay;"Pensions will go up a little,"the news bulletins now say.
Pa i dalje spiker viče:raste struja, kava, pićei benzinski derivati.Tko da ovo sada shvati?
And the newsman further cries:power, coffee, drinks, all rise,and the petrol products too:who can understand it, who?
Sve u krug se vrti čigra,i ovo je takva igra.Sve što daju, Bože sveti,eto to će i uzeti.
Round and round the spinning top,it's a game that doesn't stop;all they give us, God, it's true,they will take back from us, too.
Još jedino pred izbore,sve partije nas se sjete.Obećanja, prazne fraze,sa svih strana pljušte, lete.
Only just before electionsdo the parties call us friend;promises and empty phrasespour and fly from end to end.
A izbori kada prođu,nastavlja se priča stara.Penzioner k'o i prijemali je k'o bubamara.
When elections have gone by,back comes the old tale, word for word:and the pensioner, as ever,is as small as a ladybird.
Valpovo, 04. 04. 1992.
Valpovo, April 4, 1992