Svetionik / Lighthouse

! This post was written long ago. What you're reading is not necessarily how I feel about things in 2017. This blog was started by an 18-year-old in 2001. Please, keep that in mind before you freak out.

For this episode, Wrong Star is moving to the north...and to the east...crossing a border that wasn't always a border, it's taking a step below its usual intensity. If you speak many languages, the title is a dead giveaway when translated to the right language. I mean, if you have a clue. This is a p..m about how it's like when someone gives you an impression that you're a giant trash can full of everything they rejected and full of everything they don't bother with. Like, the biggest garbage can in the world for such matter.

Svetionik

Ako ne blistam,
onda nisam tu
jer ne sijam ti,
ne sijam ti.

Ako nisam zelena,
onda sam plava i nestvarna
i ne sijam ti,
ne sijam ti.

Ne znaš više ništa,
iako tvrdiš da znaš,
jer si nekad nešto znao.

Kao slika na pločniku oslikana mlazom iz boce s vodom kišnog dana,
nisam tu.
Sve je mnogo lepše nego što je to pre bilo,
stoga nisam tu.
Nisam tu.

Ako ne letim,
onda sam nevidljiva
i ne sijam ti,
ne, ne sijam ti.

Ako ne bulaznim,
onda sam nema i nezanimljiva,
i ne sijam ti,
ne, ne sijam ti.

Ne znaš više nikoga,
iako tvrdiš da znaš,
jer si nekad znao bolje.

Kao basna koja se priča i onda se ugrizeš za jezik kad je shvatiš,
nisam tu.
Sve će biti mnogo gore jednog dana,
stoga nisam tu.
Nisam tu.

I šta ti ja onda dođem,
kao, neki svetionik?
Ili možda Svetionik?
Niže biće u svetu gde viših bića više nema,
jer su isuviše dobra da traće život tu.
Otpad, otpad, pravi pravcijati otpad.
Sa svih strana sveta, meni u ruke...đubre, đubre, đubre.

Kao slika na pločniku oslikana mlazom iz boce s vodom kišnog dana,
Kao basna koja se priča i onda se ugrizeš za jezik kad je shvatiš,
kao odgovor na pitanje koji razumeš samo ako si i sam toliko uvredljiv,
nisam tu. Ne, nisam tu i ne sijam ti.

____________________________________________

Lighthouse

If I'm not glowing
Then I'm not here
Cause I don't shine to you,
Shine to you.

If I'm not green,
I'm blue and unreal,
And I don't shine to you,
Shine to you.

You don't know anything anymore
Though you claim you do
Because you used to.

Like a painting on the pavement with a water bottle on a rainy day,
I'm not there.
Everything is more beautiful than it used to be beforehand,
So I'm not there,
I'm not there.

If I'm not flying,
Then I'm invisible,
And I don't shine to you,
Shine to you.

If I'm not saying gibberish,
Then I'm mute and uninteresting,
And I don't shine to you,
Shine to you.

You don't know anyone anymore,
Though you claim you do
Because you used to know better.

Like a fable being told and then you bite your tongue when you get it,
I'm not there.
Everything will be much worse some other day,
So I'm not there,
I'm not there.

And what purpose do I serve then?
Like, some sort of a lighthouse?
Or, perhaps a Lighthouse?
A lower form of life in a world with higher forms of life gone,
Because they're too good to be wasting their life around here.
Waste, waste, true, genuine waste.
From all sides of the world, straight into my hands...trash, trash, trash.

Like a painting on the pavement with a water bottle on a rainy day,
Like a fable being told and then you bite your tongue when you get it,
Like a response to a question you understand only if you're as easy to offend.
I'm not there. No, I'm not there and I don't shine to you.

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