Ovo je pesma jedne košulje, zaljubljene do okovratnika u jednu sasvim banalnu drvenu štipaljku i glasi:
Držiš me na ovoj ljuljašci da se ne okliznem. Da mi suze ispare na suncu.
Zahvaljujući tebi, moći ću malo da se našalim sa stokom i živinom u ovom dvorištu.
Nadimaću se. Raskopčaću svu dugmad na svom platnenom telu.
Celo popodne biću zastava koja rukavima šamara vetar i miriše na sapunicu i nebo.
Drži me čvrsto, ali nemoj da mi zavidiš.
Mene popodne peglaju
English Translation
This is a poem by a shirt, up to its collar in love with a completely banal wooden clothespin and it goes like this:
You’re holding me on this swing so that I wouldn’t slip. Making my tears evaporate in the sun.
Thanks to you, I will be able to fool around with the cattle and poultry in this yard.
I’ll get swollen. I’ll unbutton all the buttons on my linen body.
The entire afternoon, I’ll be a flag that slaps the wind with its sleeves and smells like soap and the sky.
Hold me tight, but don’t envy me.
I’m being ironed in the afternoon.