May 16, 2011 » I opet, ona leti na Mesec / Yet Again, She’s Flying To The Moon
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This was somewhat inspired by a rather plain children's story that appeared in one of my Russian language exercise books sometime in 1993. There were two little boys, one of whom was called Vovka and they were, in their imagination, flying to the moon, as always. There was a girl named Lenka who was, as always, staying on Earth. It was pretty much ridiculous, albeit the appropriate reading material for 10-year-olds being introduced to a foreign language.
Fast forward to the mid-2000s and lacking some basic freedoms that every human has, wondering what it's like to have those basic freedoms and unintentionally holding on to people who make the most out of their freedoms. And, at some point, once you have that basic freedom, it does not matter. You aren't even using it.
I opet, ona leti na Mesec
Dan kao i svaki drugi što je,
ustanem, jedem, sedam za sto i ceo dan sanjam.
Ne idem ni korak dalje.
Morala bih to napismeno da imam.
I opet, ona leti na Mesec
i priča mi kako je tamo gde se oblaci gnezde.
I opet, ona zaranja u lagun
i otkriva mi tajnu boje morske zvezde.
A ja ostanem ovde.
Ja ostanem ovde.
Ja ostanem ovde.
Dan kao i svaki drugi što je,
ustanem, jedem, sedam za sto i ceo dan radim.
Ne idem ni korak dalje.
Kad se obogatim, ima vreme da kupim.
I opet, ona leti na Mesec,
ne priča mi ništa, jer sve sam već čula.
I opet, ona zaranja u lagunu,
a ja bih da mi kaže da li su joj peraja utrnula.
A ja ostanem ovde.
Ja ostanem ovde.
Ja ostanem ovde.
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Yet Again, She's Flying To The Moon
It's a day like any other,
I wake up, eat and sit down to dream full-time.
Not going any further,
Would need it written, otherwise it's a crime.
Yet again, she's flying to the Moon
And she tells me what it's like up in the clouds.
Yet again, she dives into a lagoon
And she reveals me the true colour of sea stars.
And I stay here.
I stay here.
I stay here.
It's a day like any other,
I will wake up, eat and sit down to earn my dime.
Not thinking any further.
Once I'm rich, I'll buy a pack of time.
Yet again, she's flying to the moon
And she won't tell me a thing, I heard it all before.
Yet again, she dives into a lagoon
And I just want to know if her fins are sore.
And I stay here.
I stay here.
I stay here.
Iva is the owner of this blog. She's a web designer who loves poetry way too much and won't stop writing it. She also runs a couple of other websites, such as this one.
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