Sudnji dan

I Bog pogleda dole, promotri celu Zemlju, i bi mu zlo.
- OK! - progovori on. – U redu! Ja sam sit, preselo mi je. Ogorčen sam. Već mi je na vrh glave. Što je previše, previše je.
- Gabrijele! – prodere se – zasviraj tu svoju prokletu trubu! Želim da dotučem to smeće tamo dole.
- Ma, već je i bilo vreme – reče Gabrijel vadeći trubu iz navlake. – Želiš li neki zgodan moderan hit, ili možda nešto vojnički, recimo kakav marš, ili možda samo jedan dobri, glasni..
- Baš me briga šta ćeš odsvirati – reče Bog – samo sviraj! I neka bude glasno; neka bude uverljivo, i konačno za svoju večnost.. neka odzvanja od neba do pakla i natrag; neka ispuni duše svih ljudi, neka ih ispuni spoznajom da je to to, da je kucnuo čas. NEKA GRUNE!
- T.S.Eliot kaže, da kraj sveta izgleda...
- Šta se mene, do đavola, tiče šta kaže taj T.S.Eliot! Tamo sviraj kako ti ja kažem. – reče Bog.
- U redu, u redu – složi se Gabrijel – u redu, nije potrebno da se izdireš na mene. Konačno, ja sam ipak muzičar, a ne vodoinstalater. Bar sam se ja načekao da svane ovaj dan. Budi siguran da neću upropastiti stvar! Ti samo reci kakav si kraj zamislio, a ja ću već naći nešto što odgovara.
I on namesti pisak na svoju trubu.
- Hoćeš li opet izvesti da kiši četrdeset dana i noći?
- Paaaa, zapravo, nisam razmišljao o tome – reče Bog.
- Ha, ako si mislio da kiši, bolje da na to zaboraviš. Oni dole su usavršili melioraciju.
- Možda ću ih dobro zatresti – reče Bog. – To će ih zaista dobro..
- Ne pali – reče Gabrijel. – Ja bih ti, doduše mogao odsvirati nešto zbilja potresno, ali one kuće dole su uglavnom sigurne od potresa, a verujem da si naumio da ode sve odjednom.
- Pa, naravno, naravno – reče Bog. – Znam ja to. Pa nisam ni mislio na potres, to sam samo rekao tek tako.. jedna dobra kuga više odgovara mojem stilu.. možda jedna kuga koja će..
- Ali oni su vakcinisani!
- Vakcinisani? Hmm.. naravno.. ipak, šteta... U staro vreme, znaš, mogao si ih okružiti i tako pokositi svu mušku decu i...
- Mogao bih ih možda potući gromovima – predloži Gabrijel.
- TO JE TO! Bravo! – reče Bog. – Nekoliko poštenih gromova bi zaista..
- Ne, neće ići – reče Gabrijel. Njihove bi rakete verovatno zaustavile oblake s gromovima.
Bog se ućuta, zavali se u naslonjač i razmišljaše dugo, dugo.
Gabrijel je prebirao bezvezno po tipkama trube.
- Pretpostavljam da su im kuće nezapaljive – promrmlja konačno Bog.
- Sve osim predgrađa – reče Gabrijel – a ako ih spališ, podići će moderna naselja.
- Bog ponovo ćutaše dugo, dugo.
- Slušaj, - reče, izvinjavajući se. – Ma nema veze. Možda... možda ih za sad pustimo na miru. Možda ću im dati još malo vremena. Na posletku, pa oni su svi moja deca, moji jaganjci zar ne?
- U redu, što se mene tiče – reče Gabrijel. – Meni je svejedno. Nego, da ti ipak nešto odsviram? Hocu reći... kad sam već izvadio trubu?
Opet muk.
- U redu, važi – konačno reče Bog umornim glasom, zavali se u naslonjač i zaklopi oči.
- Sviraj mi.. bluz!

Kraj

Giving tree

There was once a great apple tree and a little boy.
They would spend hours and hours together.
The boy would play in the tree's branches,
sleep at her roots and eat of her apples.
And the tree loved the boy.

One day, the boy came to the tree.
The tree was delighted and beckoned, "Come and play!"
But the boy was no longer a boy; he was now a young man,
and he was interested in making a living, but he didn't know how.
"Here," the tree said, "take my apples and sell them."
The young man did just that, and the tree was happy.

Years passed, and the tree was lonely without the young man.
One day, he returned, and the tree was delighted,
but he was now interested in settling down.
He wanted to build a house.
"Here," the tree said, "Cut off my branches and build your house."
The young man did just that, and the tree was happy.

Years passed, and the tree still missed her friend.
One day, the man returned, and the tree was again overjoyed.
But the man was now older and tired of life;
he wanted to get away from it all.
"Here," the tree offered, "Cut me down.
Make for yourself a boat, and sail the world in it."
The man did just that, and the tree was happy.

Many years passed, seasons came and went, and the tree was very lonely.
She missed her friend, and she often thought about the old days, when they had such fun.
Finally, she saw her friend coming over the hill, and she was delighted.
But the boy was now an old man, no longer able to play or make money or to sail away.
And he was tired. "Here, my friend," the tree said,
"I still have a pretty good stump left. Won't you sit and rest?"
The old man did that, and the tree was happy.

Shel Silvestein