Every Sunday they were standing in front of the church
Old Grandpas,
Smoking pipes,
scratching their beards seriously
and talking,
stories of seas and worlds:
- So long ago,
at Biscay, my dear,...
hundreds of devils danced.
First mast was destroyed
and the rudder flew away,
it was damned horrible,
and the boat was already full of water.
Tonka's Vice perished there,...
(note: Tonka is a female name, and Vice is pronounced Veetze)
I don't know
how I survived.
- Late captain Frane,
that happened in Havana,...
Every Sunday they were standing in front of the church
old Grandpas,
and telling stories of seas and worlds.
But now and then, on Sunday one Grandpa was missing
in front of the church,
because yesterday they carried him
and people walked behind him.
Prayed,
slowly walked
and forgot.
And there were no more old Grandpas.
Here I tried to illustrate a poem by Drago Gervais (Opatija, Croatia, 18th of April 1904 – Sežana, Slovenia, 1st July 1957), famous Croatian poet whose poems written in north-adriatic Croatian dialect are pure gems. Poems with lots of sympathy and compassion for ordinary men. This poem, "Old Grandpas" describes the late days of local men who were mainly seamen, how they meet on Sundays in front of the church and talk about days of youth. And after a while, there are fewer of them. And with them gone, all their stories are gone, too.
I tried to translate the poem so you could follow the images, but it is impossible to translate the music of words written in local dialect.
Here I used graphic paint and roller, with pen and ink. All are in A4 format.
I hope you'll enjoy it!
Thank you for watching :-)
