FOTOGRAFIJA: DETINJSTVO

Fotografija Eni Koukole iz knjige Elusive time

FOTOGRAFIJA: DETINJSTVO
(str 11)

Grčka jeste detinjstvo Evrope

ali ova fotografija nije o tome

prepoznajem tu letnju svetlost

na golom telu dečaka

nekada sam je skupljao

u dvorištu

u praznim konzervama sardine

koje sam vukao između kula

od peska

prepoznajem tu vedrinu

početka

dana koji traje duže od mnogih

godina koje su usledile

kasnije

i onda sam izvrtao konzerve

i ispadale su svetlosne

ciglice

za čitavu mračnu budućnost

kasnije

prepoznajem miris sobe

u kojoj ti je obećana

velika igračka

neodoljivog smisla

Iz rukopisa ELUSIVE TIME

WHEN WE HAVE A ROAD AHEAD

Fotografija: Maja

Sand has the will of sand no more
and the wind is mild to heel me in
all mixed sounds
have split into the sources
and only mine is clear and vivid
my voice is mine to me

The stone has lost the hope of stone
and a crumbling desert was overcome by darkness
distances don’t exist
and all the sites are soulless in the crowd
I’ve seen so much of empty compassion
oh, God, only my colours are colours to me

And time has no faith of time any more
strung plentitude interwoven into a ball
and poor memories are suddenly all there
my heart has been wounded countlessly
its throb is its and mine is to me

Destiny got lost pointlessly
so many wretched years behind us
and no and no and no there is no
flame in the soul
humpbacked civilizations are dying away
the battle is renewed
and what’s there left for me my mien
only mine to me

Mirrors have disappeared without the reflections
the woods and lakes in the mountain
scents are the churches we pray in
and lindens and blood and sweat
sometimes it seems that love what is love
my voice is vivid to me only mine
what is my love only mine
before the trip without scorn pure sorrow
sorrow has no longer the eternity of sorrow
loveless sorrow sometimes better

Na engleski prevela Maja

KAD JE PRED NAMA PUT

Pesak nema više volju peska
i vetar je mlak da me zatrpa
svi izmešani zvuci
podelili se na izvore
i čist i jasan samo je moj
moj je glas meni moj

Kamen je izgubio nadu kamena
i trošnu je pustinju savladao mrak
daljine ne postoje
i svi su krajevi bezdušni u gužvi
nagledah se prazne samilosti
o, Bože, boje su meni samo moje

I vreme nema više veru vremena
nanizano mnoštvo splelo se u klupko
i sećanja su jadna sva tu odjednom
srce mi je ranjeno bezbroj
damar je njegov a meni moj

Sudbina se izgubila bez smisla
toliko nesrećnih godina za nama
i nema i nema i nema i nema
u duši plama
grbave su civilizacije na umoru
obnavlja se boj
a meni šta je ostalo lik moj
meni samo moj

Ogledala su nestala bez odraza
šume i jezera u planini
mirisi su crkve u kojima se molimo
i lipe i krv i znoj
ponekad se čini da ljubav šta je ljubav
moj glas je jasan meni samo moj
šta je ljubav moja meni samo moja
pred put bez poruge čista tuga
tuga nema više beskonačnost tuge
bez ljubavi tuga nekad bolja

EVERYTHING WILL BE ALL RIGHT

Everything will be all right
everything will fall into place
streets will put cars to sleep
around midnight
stars will restore the city
to the drunken sky
parks will besiege the wind
all around
and it will calm down
on a bench

and where is that midnight
where sky
wind
that is less important
it’s the same everywhere when everything’s ok
when everything is in its place
and the cars are parked in the same way
and the stars twinkle evenly
and parks are sitting
peacefully on their benches
may everything be just fine
may everything be in its place

nobody dies
nobody is born
myriad few of us
fell asleep
and the broken record is repeating
the tune
everything will be all right
everything will fit into place
those who were here still are
those who have left there dwell
and nobody eavesdrops the echoes
in the derelict hall

changes who needs changes
I saw a man once
sitting in an armchair in the street of the demolished Groznyy
I saw him on television
sitting in exactly the same armchair
his eyes were peacefully saying
everything will be all right
we will drink to the health
of the forgotten in the forest stream
light a cigarette
for that little remaining money
we will buy at least some chocolate
for our children’s kids
wars are a past
wars are bad dreams
after war films
wars have finished
like the programme
with the snow that flickers in the ether
everything will be all right
everything will fit into place

the bed we bought
and in which somebody else sleeps
and the bed which sails
down the stream of our childhood
and the hand that was entangling our hair
and the hand that was pinching our
white meat
the letters we have sent
and the letters we have never received
nights that we have drank up
and the nights we have carefully saved
for better tomorrow
love that was taken away from us
and love that we grabbed
everything will fit into place
everything will be all right
lined peacefully
like the night in the fire of nothing
like in the boot of benevolent God

Na engleski prevela Maja

TEXT OF MOONLIGHT

Фото: Додо

Moonlight past Moonlight past
on Bed relaxed Rain
Draught slams that Door
behind which Darkness growls
pleasant it is to be dead

I don`t believe that truly New
is possible in Plastic bag
packed acacia Wood

Moonlight behind Moonlight behind
limpidly-thick on the Rocking-chair
Things have ceased to gorge
Time-for-love
neither round is anything any more
nor deeply reserved
the Length of a Glance I measured
up to the Moon
no matter if from the Store
and that Stride which makes me close
to a lonely Mother on the Street
who scolds her Baby
in a Lullaby
it savagely exiles me
out of the Laughing-Death

I don’t believe in Real
Possibility to reveal
in one Creaking the Spring-which-is-Fear

Freshness is Inhale
Copies of Rain
on the ragged Asphalt

this Text will end
when the last Letter
gets sick
for not being Capital

Na engleski prevela Maja

MY JOB IS ORDINARY

(the final song of the book ORGIES OF THE EMPTINESS)

I’m shivering in the window which is a night
the texture of this paper despairs
over the growing-wild boredom night
and death is close the mask of
cockroaches which run away
from the sudden light behind the mirror
who, inconsiderate like an angel,
fell into a wild trap
which is a sharp hole full of
roaring trigrams which knit
evanescence around the green vagueness
who, lukewarm of ashes,
kicked, kicked my ice peace
notes have slid off the shadow
which is a monk just like this night
which is the sword of the monk is
the star saber, the hiperstring
torn off the rug of dimensions,
really one disharmonious melody

my job is ordinary
comprehensible even to the commons night
I’m building deserted islands for
the survived ship wreckers and again
the shadows hate each other and hide
the hexagrams
the important ones which make the destiny
ossify around the silken adventures

my job is ordinary
the universe is but a lump of Moebious’ stripes
none of them tied into a dark knob
where curious I painted the night
into colorful crusts and now those who walk
on Sundays after lunch after beer dough or halva
they are drowning
caught at the bottom
they said I was strange
from the window they saw other
sights the trucks of ivory
and the carnival of coca cola
empty from the bottom to the half
and to the top syrup of laughter
my job is after all ordinary
directing the reality to be
worthy of Identity and Revenge
like that Night like the law of falling
like the wind between the warm
and the cold like the fear of dying
like the boring eternity of God
who plays the same crossword
from dust to trembling brain
every thought is followed by shame
of being itself an eternal world
and this line of words
composed without a single rustle
glorifies the silence behind the skin
the silence dispersed among the ghosts
which are dragging around
and seek love
love to make the changes coherent
all the changes above the abyss
and at least for once under the crippled stars
may mathematics be clear

Na engleski prevela Maja