Friday, June 1, 2012

Pascale Petit, Zoo Father, cover and illustration



Dizajn korica i 11 ilustracija za knjigu pesama Zoo otac, autorke Paskal Peti.
Prevod sa engleskog: Milan Dobričić, izdavač: Treći Trg.

Ilustracije su izložene u okviru 6. Beogradskog festivala poezije i knjige u
UK Vuk Karadžić, Bulevar kralja Aleksandra 77a
od 30.maja do 2. juna 2012.

Više o autorki:
www.pascalepetit.blogspot.com

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Cover design and 11 illustration for the poetry book Zoo Father by Pascale Petit. 
Translation from English: Milan Dobričić, publisher: Treći Trg, Belgrade, Serbia.

The illustration are exhibited at the 6th Belgrade Poetry and Book Festival
UK Vuk Karadžić, Bulevar kralja Aleksandra 77a
from May 30th until June 2nd 2012.

More about the author:














THE STRAIT-JACKETS

I lay the suitcase on Father’s bed
and unzip it slowly, gently.
Inside, packed in cloth strait-jackets
lie forty live hummingbirds
tied down in rows, each tiny head
cushioned on a swaddled body.
I feed them from a flask of sugar water,
inserting every bill into the pipette,
then unwind their bindings
so Father can see their changing colours
as they dart around his room.
They hover inches from his face
as if he’s a flower, their humming
just audible above the oxygen recycler.
For the first time since I’ve arrived
he’s breathing easily, the cannula
attached to his nostrils almost slips out.
I don’t know how long we sit there
but when I next glance at his face
he’s asleep, lights from their feathers
still playing on his eyelids and cheeks.
It takes me hours to catch them all
and wrap them in their strait-jackets.
I work quietly, he’s in such
a deep sleep he doesn’t wake once.


LUDAČKE KOŠULJE

Polažem kofer na Očev krevet
i odšniravam lagano, nežno.
Unutra, spakovani u suknene ludačke košulje,
leži četrdeset živih kolibrija
svezanih u redove, svaka majušna glava
položena na povijeno telo.
Pojim ih iz pljoske šećernom vodicom,
uvlačeći svaki kljun u pipetu,
zatim odmotavam njihove poveze
kako bi Otac mogao da vidi promenu njihovih boja
dok lepršaju po njegovoj sobi.
Oni lebde tik iznad njegovog lica
kao da je on cvet, njihovo zujanje
jedva čujno iznad aparata za kiseonik.
Po prvi put od kada sam stigla
on diše lako, kanila
zakačena za njegove nozdrve gotovo isklizava.
Ne znam koliko dugo tako sedimo
ali kada sledeći put bacim pogled na njegovo lice
on je zaspao, svetla s njihovih pera
još uvek igraju na njegovim kapcima i obrazima.
Potrebni su mi sati da ih sve pohvatam
i uvijem u njihove ludačke košulje.
Radim tiho, on je tako
duboko u snu da se nijednom ne budi.

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