neka ljeto drhti ispred naših vrata

nemoj mu otvoriti nek umre od želje

mi cemo se smijati gole i crne

i probavati gospodine haljine

plesat & cemo citav dan djevojcice

pokraj starog gramofona

lijeno kao macke

na prstima na petama okret

tvoje su ruke u zraku

moje su ruke na struku

dozivaju nas mornari pod prozorom

oni znaju naša imena

ti si marmelada od šljive

ja od gorke narance

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Bossanova

let the summer tremble before our door

don’t open let it die from desire

we will laugh naked and tanned

and keep trying on the lady’s dresses

we will dance all day little girls

by the old gramophone

lazily like cats

turn on toes on heels

your arms raised

my hands at my waist

now sailors call us beneath the window

they know our names

you’re plum jam

and I bitter orange

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For more great writing in its native tongue and translations, purchase Gulf Coast 28.2 here.