Don't touch my mother...

Don't touch my mother. Words, looks, fists. Never touch my mother because I will defend her: with words, a look, fists. Let her be full of flaws, let her make mistakes, let her not understand her ... Who cares? Don't touch my mother, don't point at her, don't count her sins, don't measure her words. Her hands, weak as poplar branches, greet me when I fall, save me from fractures. She is the only one who praises me and is the only one who supports me even when she doesn't understand me. Don't touch my mother so that the hurricane doesn't wake up in me, so that all my beasts don't go crazy and devour your malice and peace. Let her give birth to me too young or too old, let her not set rich tables, let her not dress according to your taste, let her be too thin or too fat, do not touch my mother! She sat alone at night to comfort the tears in my dreams, tired to exhaustion, gathering grains of strength to praise me, calm me down, advise me or just keep quiet with me. Only she sighs and before the sadness creeps up on me, she worries if I'm hungry, because I stayed, she waits for me in the night with the light on and she says with her cheeks that everything will be fine. She praises me even when there is no reason, she hides her painful places from my eyes, she protects me even when I am stronger than her, she gives more than she has. Let it be barking, silent, prznica or gentle, capable or static, let it be. Healthy and alive, my only safe harbor, a jukebox with solutions to my doubts that doesn't work on a coin but on a feeling. Don't touch my mother, because I will rise higher than I am, stronger than I think, worse than you suspect, and I will silence you with those three words that are neither a threat nor a request. Don't touch my mother with words, eyes, fists. I'll blow you away like a soap bubble to smash your unimportant opinion about granite. May she be nothing to you, she is holy to me and light, if you touch my mother, you challenged me to a duel, not her. Being a child next to her lap made me a dragon in front of mice.

Just don't touch my mother...

Ne diraj mi majku.

Rečima, pogledom, šakama.

Nikad mi ne diraj majku jer braniću je ja: rečima, pogledom, šakama.

Neka je ona puna mana, neka je grešila, nek je ne razumeš...Koga briga? Majku mi ne diraj, na nju ne pokazuj, ne broji joj grehe, ne meri joj reči.

Njene me ruke, slabe poput grana topole, dočekaju kad padam, spašavaju od lomova.

Ona me jedina grdnjom hvali i jedina me podrži i kad me ne razume.

Majku mi ne diraj da se u meni ne probudi orkan, da ne polude sve moje zveri i prožderu ti zlobu i spokoj.

Neka me je ona premlada ili prestara rodila, neka ne postavlja bogate trpeze, ne oblači se po tvom ukusu, neka je premršava ili predebela, majku mi ne diraj!

Ona je sama sedela noćima da teši suze u mojim snovima, umorna do iznemoglosti skupljala zrnca snage da me pohvali, umiri, posavetuje ili tek ćuti sa mnom. Jedino ona uzdiše i pre nego što mi se tuga mučki prikrade, brine da li sam gladna, što sam se zadržala, čeka me u noći upaljenm svetlom i obrazima govori da će sve biti u redu.

Ona me hvali i kad nema razloga, sakriva njena bolna mesta od mojih očiju, čuva me i kada sam jača od nje, daje i više nego što ima.

Neka je lajava, ćutljiva, prznica ili nežna, sposobna ili statična, neka je. Zdrave i žive, moje jedine sigurne luke, džuboksa s rešenjima za moje nedoumice koji ne radi na novčić već na osećaj.

Majku mi ne diraj, jer ustaću viša nego što jesam, jača nego što mislim, gora nego što slutiš i ućutkaću te sa te tri reči koje nisu ni pretnja ni molba.

Ne diraj mi majku, rečima, očima, šakama.

Oduvaću te poput balona od sapunice da se o granit razbije tvoje nevažno mišljenje.

Neka je ona za tebe nikakva, meni je svetinja i svetlost,

diraš li mi majku, na dvoboj si izazvao mene, ne nju.

To što sam uz njene skute dete, učinilo me je zmajem pred miševima.