In my dreams, there’s not enough
Of New Belgrade’s block’s
I always start at 70th
Because once upon a time
Everyone mine used to live here
At the skyscraper at Yuri Gagarin street
(In my dreams)
Between bus stop and the block
There are hyper markets, bazaars, kebab sellers
If I go to bed hungry
(in my dreams)
I go there so often,
That I know precisely what’s placed where at the bazaar
And at the hypermarkets
Sometimes there are pharmacies, fairs, fish markets , and also
A department store in which all stuff is designed by me and is sold
Exclusivey here
Behind the fish market, just before block 70, is Knez- Mihajlova street,
A half of it here, another half in Podgorica, and then it stretches all the way to Zagreb’s suburbs
Promenade Lázaro Cárdenas which ( really)spreads across the block, starts somewhere in Ljubljana at Cankar Hall…
Via Mostecka street from block 70 i continue into the night,
There are no street lights
But, luckily, ( in my dreams)
Sun sets late
If it sets at all
The problem is with transportation
Last bus is leaving at midnight
And while distraught tourists in Prague in vain look into the abyss
At the end of Charl’s bridge
Where Mostecka street used to be
And they wonder why on earth
Would a historic Prague street
Ran away to the concrete blocks of some other city
Which even isn’t situated in Czechs
( and its name itself says the street belongs to a bridge!)
( in my dream)
The street looks at me silently and it is as if it’s doubting the decision it made
I am comforting it
I am telling her that for a long time in its midsts
At number 15 was an Embassy
Of a country which exists no more
This part of the city to which we are fleeing
Mostecká street and me
It also has a river and a bridge
And everyone speaks the language
Which has almost forgotten
And thus stone by stone
Street by street
I rebuild magical city from my childhood
Fairy city in which
Miracles are still possible
I am still a little girl
Bubbe is still alive
We cross the river by raft
Bubbe takes me to Mediterranean gardens
We eat delicious ripe figs at any time of the year
And we inhale the scent of a rose garden in bloom
While Zdravko Colic in the garden (in a dream)
sings “…Beautiful, you’re welcome into my life
Beautiful, the ice has already broken
Here, I’ll shoot three times into the air
Let them ask whats is the celebration. “
Cunning card player in a black coat
In his hand holds a small Hungarian deck of cards
he’s looking for a third player for preference game
My grandmother turns into a girl
Quite young young and polite
She’s telling me I’ll miss the last bus
(in my dreaam) I recall my mother’s dream
That morning she got up all scared
Two Hunfarian men wearing long dark coats
Came to take away Pishta, our cat
He belongs to them, they said
My mother is screaming (in her dream )
She won’t let the cat
He’s name by passport is Davidi
Little David
We call him Pishta just like that
They say, Pishta is deminutiv of Ishtvan
The cat is coming with us
Full stop
( I am forgetting to ask my mother in which language did they converse..)
The nice girl who used to be my grandma
Discreetly points her ornate Longines watch
I’ll miss the last bus
Somewhere nearby the bells ring
The wind carries the smell of roasted chestnuts…
moderndayruth 