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, head over collar in love with a completely banal wooden clothespin, and it goes like this:
You’re holding me on this swing so I don’t slip. Letting 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 puff up. I’ll unbutton all the buttons on my linen body.
All afternoon, I’ll be a flag slapping the wind with its sleeves, smelling of soap and sky.
Hold me tight, but don’t envy me.
I’m being ironed in the afternoon.



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