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[Orlando the Lady]

[lazarus]

Čitajte ASJU BRKIĆ


PRESUDA

Mama, ja dobila

Sad si žena, sine!

[Speculum Columbae]

Raava

Tebe, ženo, našao sam
u kurvarluku i u mehani
kano lep, skupi biser
u blatu zagažen,
i kano zlato
u vodnoj tini zamešato,
kako hubav, lep,
mirisni cvet
u trnju zarastao.

Duša svetla
u smrdljivom mestu
zatvorena je to bila.

Gavril Stefanović Venclović

[DevojkaIzObraza]

^oh, prosvećenost.
volim poeziju milene marković (pljujte kol'ko 'oćete)

[Speculum Columbae]

Barok.

[DevojkaIzObraza]

majku mu, znala sam da nisam u pravu #listaknjižurine

[Speculum Columbae]

:tuče je knjigama:

[DevojkaIzObraza]

#kme

[Speculum Columbae]

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.
The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.
I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.
Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.
But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?

[LeDeNa_]

I ništa te kao ne boli


Dan je kao sunčan.
Ti si kao veseo.
Prolaziš, kao ne vide te.

Svima je kao lijepo.
Svima je kao dobro.
Svima je kao ludo.

I ti si kao sretan.

Živi se kao u miru.
Ptice su kao slobodne.
Budućnost kao na dlanu.

Savjest je kao čista.
I suncu je kao jasno.
O, srce, kao pjevaj.

Svi kao brinu o svima.
Svatko je prijatelj kao.
Svima je kao stalo do tebe
i do svijeta.

I dan kao ode.
I ti se kao smiješiš!
I ništa te kao ne boli.


Enes Kišević

[walt333]

Because I could not stop for Death (712)
by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed us –
The Dews drew quivering and chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –

[Speculum Columbae]

Nights of endless sorrow,happiness and dread.....
Infinite sadness made Delight go mad.
Looking sweet and happy....now more than before...
There is nothing madness, could be waiting for.
For now is Delirum...but Delight no more....

[walt333]

Brod

Ulice su jasno osvetljene; naš grad je savršeno čist:
u trećem razredu imaju prljave karte, u prvom kartaju s velikim ulogom;
Prosjaci koji spavaju na pramcu nikad nisu vidjeli
Ono što može biti učinjeno u raskošnim salonima; nitko ne pita zašto.

Ljubavnici pišu pisma, sportaši igraju s loptom,
Jedan sumnja u čast, drugi u ljepotu, svoje žene;
Dječak je jedan ambiciozan; možda kapetan nas sve mrzi;
Netko možda provodi uglađen život.

Tako naša kultura na bezvjetrini napreduje
Na jalovim morskim prostranstvima; negdje ispred nas
Otrovni je Orijent, rat, novo cvijeće i nova odjeća.

Negdje jedno novo i mudro Sutra ide u krevet
Stavljajuć na kušnju ljude iz Evrope; nitko ne predviđa
tko bi mogao biti više posramljen, tko bogatiji, a tko mrtav.

W. H. Auden (Prevod: Tomislav Sabljak)

[Orlando the Lady]

ANA RISTOVIC (zbirka ,,Oko nule'')


LEP POGLED
(strah od rutine)




To je jedan trg i na njemu nikog.
Nikoga, čak ni trga nema, rekao bi pesnik
samo naše cipele, dve spremne barke
i pored cipela, dve kašike
za lakše nazuvanje

U tvoje se sliva slana
u moje slatka voda
iz istog oblaka, davno
nam poverenog na čuvanje

I tako svakodnevno, redom

Svuda unaokolo sasvim je suvo
nijedne jedine kapi

I nigde nikog, čak ni nas

Samo u kašikama nečiji lep,
izvrnuti pogled, prikovan
za već uhodano nebo

[LeDeNa_]

PRE RASTANKA

Dakle, uzaman behu sve nade moje,
Uzaman se nadah da ćeš ostati,
A sad tek vidim da zbilja ideš
I da se s tobom moram rastati.
Pa dobro, idi! U dalek onaj svet.
Mira ti želim u kraju tome,
A prijateljstvo i ljubav ovu
Uvek ćeš naći u srcu mome.
Život je borba, retka je sreća,
Istrajna, hrabra u borbi budi;
Ne kloni nikad, pomisli samo
Da ima duša koja te ljubi.
O seti me se! Al' samo tada
Ako ti život zagorča jad;
Al' ako ti bude blistala sreća -
Zaboravi na me, zaboravi tad!
Jesenje lišće već opalo je,
Ni travke nema, pustoš je svud;
Na mome srcu, u mojoj duši
Još uvek vlada večita stud.


Vera

[bas bleu]

you and i

i explain quietly. you
hear me shouting. you
try a new tack. i
feel old wounds reopen.

you see both sides. i
see your blinkers. i
am placatory. you
sense a new selfishness.

i am a dove. you
recognize the hawk. you
offer an olive branch. i
feel the thorns.

you bleed. i
see crocodile tears. i
withdraw. you
reel from the impact.

roger mcgough



the importance of elsewhere

lonely in ireland, since it was not home,
strangeness made sense. the salt rebuff of speech,
insisting so on difference, made me welcome:
once that was recognised, we were in touch

their draughty streets, end-on to hills, the faint
archaic smell of dockland, like a stable,
the herring-hawker's cry, dwindling, went
to prove me separate, not unworkable.

living in england has no such excuse:
these are my customs and establishments
it would be much more serious to refuse.
here no elsewhere underwrites my existence.

philip larkin

[bas bleu]

litany

you are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine...
-jacques crickillon

you are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
you are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
you are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

however, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
and you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
there is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

it is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

and a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

it might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that i am the sound of rain on the roof.

i also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

i am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
but don't worry, i'm not the bread and the knife.
you are still the bread and the knife.
you will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.

billy collins

[Speculum Columbae]

Pod nebom nek se zvezdanim
Iskopa grob da tamo spim.
S veseljem življah i mrem sa njim,
I ležem tih u svet tišine.

Isklešite za stihom stih:
U kraj on stiže čežnja svih;
Sa mora mornar u dom tih
I lovac u dom svoj s planine.

Robert Luis Stivenson, Rekvijem

[bas bleu]

after a journey

i come to interview a voiceless ghost;
whither, o whither will its whim now draw me?
up the cliff, down, till i'm lonely, lost,
and the unseen waters' soliloquies awe me.
where you will next be there's no knowing,
facing round about me everywhere,
with your nut-coloured hair,
and gray eyes, and rose-flush coming and going.

yes: i have re-entered your olden haunts at last;
through the years, through the dead scenes i have tracked you;
what have you now found to say of our past —
viewed across the dark space wherein i have lacked you?
summer gave us sweets, but autumn wrought division?
things were not lastly as firstly well
with us twain, you tell?
but all's closed now, despite time's derision.

i see what you are doing: you are leading me on
to the spots we knew when we haunted here together,
the waterfall, above which the mist-bow shone
at the then fair hour in the then fair weather,
and the cave just under, with a voice still so hollow
that it seems to call out to me from forty years ago,
when you were all aglow,
and not the thin ghost that i now frailly follow!

ignorant of what there is flitting here to see,
the waked birds preen and the seals flop lazily,
soon you will have, dear, to vanish from me,
for the stars close their shutters and the dawn whitens hazily.
trust me, i mind not, though life lours,
the bringing of me here; nay, bring me here again!
i am just the same as when
our days were a joy, and our paths through flowers.

thomas hardy

[dukkehjem]

Rexroth's daughter, posebno dirljivo kad joan baez peva

Coldest night of the winter
working up my farewell
In the middle of everything
under no particular spell

Dreaming of the mountains
where the children learn the stars
Clouds roll in from Nebraska
dark chords on a big guitar

My restlessness is long gone
standing like an old jack pine
I'm looking for Rexroth's daughter
She's a friend of a friend of mine


Can't believe your hands and mouth
did all that to me
And they are so daily naked
for all the world to see

That thunderstorm in Michigan
I never will forget
We shook right with the thunder
& with the pounding rain got wet

Where did you turn when you turned from me
with your arms across your chest
Ya,I'm looking for Rexroth's daughter
saw her in the great northwest


Would she have said it was the wrong time
if I had found her then
I don't ask very much
a field across the road and a few good friends

She used to come & see me
she was always there & gone
Even the very longest love
do'nt last very long

She'd stood there in my doorway
smoothing out her dress
saying 'life is a thump-ripe melon-
-so sweet and such a mess'


[I wanted to get to know you
but you said you were shy
I would have followed you anywhere
but hello rolled into goodbye

I just stood there watching
as you walked along the fence
Beware of them that look at you
as an experience

You're back out on the highway
with your poems of city heat
I'm looking for Rexroth's daughter
here on my own side street]


Well,The murderer who lived next door
seemed such a normal guy--
You try to swallow what they shove at us
you run out of tears to cry

I heard a man speak quietly
I listened for a while
He spoke from his heart to my woe
& then he bowed & smiled

What is real but compassion
as we move from birth to death
Ya,I'm looking for Rexroth's daughter
& I'm running out of breath


Spring will come back I know it will
& it'll do its best
so useful, so endangered
like a lion or a breast

I think about my children
when I look at any child's face
pray that we will find a way
to get with all this amazing grace

It's so cold out there tonight
stormy I can hardly see
I'm looking for Rexroth's daughter
& I guess I always will be.

[Orlando the Lady]

Milan Ćurčin


NA STRANPUTICI.

Doće t. zv. jesen,
T. j. stalo padati "žuto lišće", i t. d.
Te skoro pod svakom granom
Po jedan pesnik;
Stoji, i vidi
Gde "mre" priroda, i pogreb joj prati!

I ja sam pokuš'o jednom
Da pazim na pesnički usus:
Da se svojski rastužim,
Pa da procvilim u ritmu.

Al' ozgo vedro nebo,
A u meni nasmejana duša,
Ismejaše mi tugu,
Te ni kraj najbolje volje
Ne mogoh otkriti smrt
U prirodi.

Naprotiv, ja volim kad pada lišće,
Te u stotini boja,
Od crvene do crno-mrke,
Pokrije tle;
A sunce na njega padne,
Pa dotka ćilim.

[Guion Nerville]

San

Neko ti prilazi, kaže: život mu je uništen,
kraj tvojih nogu padne
i glavom udara u pločnik.
Krv se u lokvu širi,
a ti slabašnim glasom moliš
za pomoć one najbliže:
tvoj život prima njegovo očajanje.
On ne prestaje da lupa glavom.
Ti si taj ko je osuđen na propast -
i, padaš kraj njega.
Onda se budiš,
telo je nestalo, krv je isprana s tla,
izlozi blešte puni svojih roba.


Biografija

U ovim dirkama pisaće mašine je priča
o mojim roditeljima i meni
koju neću dozvoliti da dirke otkucaju;
troje nas u neprestanoj napetosti
ne želim da uznemiravam,
nesposoban da razrešim sporove između nas,
a oni su mrtvi.

And the same words

I like rust on a nail,
fog on a mountain.
Clouds hide stars,
rooms have doors,
eyes close,
and the same words
that began love
end it
with changed emphasis.

U snu

U pedesetoj prilazim samome sebi
osamnaestogodišnjaku
koji potišteno sedi na betonskim stepenicama
očeve kuce
i želi da ode odatle
u moj sopstveni život;
i kažem mlađanome svom biću:
Ništa neće ispasti kako treba,
poželeceš da kazniš sebe
naročito zbog onih najbližih
a oni će želeti svoju smrt
u potresenosti i bolu. Zapašćeš
u sporenja obliven suzama samosažaljenja,
pun sebe, plahoviti naivko.
Moje osamnaestogodišnje ja ustade
s betonskih stepenica i reče:
Idi dođavola-
i ja odoh dalje.

David Ignatow (preveo Srba Mitrovic)

[Guion Nerville]

Jedenje poezije


Mastilo curi niz krajeve mojih usta
Niko nije imao tako ludu sreću:
Ja sam jeo poeziju.

Bibliotekarka ne veruje u ono što vidi.
Njene oči su tužne,
i s rukama u haljini ona korača.

Pesme su iščezle.
Svetlost je nejasna.
Psi su na stepenicama u prizemlju i penju se.

Njihove oči zveraju tamo-amo,
i svetlodlake noge gore kao pruće.
Jadna bibliotekarka počinje da udara nogama i da plače.

Ona ne shvata ništa.
Kad padnem na kolena i liznem joj ruku
ona vrisne.

Ja sam novi čovek.
Režim na nju i lajem.
Poskakujem od radosti u knjiškoj tami.

Mark Strend

(prev. David Albahari - Zoran Vragolov)

[bas bleu]

is it for now or for always

is it for now or for always,
the world hangs on a stalk?
is it a trick or a trysting-place,
the woods we have found to walk?

is it a mirage or miracle,
your lips that lift at mine:
and the suns like a juggler's juggling-balls,
are they a sham or a sign?

shine out, my sudden angel,
break fear with breast and brow,
i take you now and for always,
for always is always now.

p.l.

[bas bleu]

the carol anne duffy night

name

when did your name
change from a proper noun
to a charm?

its three vowels
like jewels
on the thread of my breath.

it's consonants
brushing my mouth
like a kiss.

i love your name.
i say it again and again
in this summer rain.

i see it,
discreet in the alphabet,
like a wish.

i pray it
into the night
till its letters are light.

i hear your name
rhyming, rhyming,
rhyming with everything.


words, wide night

somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, i am thinking of you.
the room is turning slowly away from the moon.

this is pleasurable. or shall i cross that out and say
it is sad? in one of the tenses i am singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.

la lala la. see? i close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills i would have to cross
to reach you. for i am in love with you and this

is what it is like or what it is like in words.

[dukkehjem]

Originally posted by Orlando the Lady

Milan Ćurčin


NA STRANPUTICI.

Doće t. zv. jesen,
T. j. stalo padati "žuto lišće", i t. d.
Te skoro pod svakom granom
Po jedan pesnik;
Stoji, i vidi
Gde "mre" priroda, i pogreb joj prati!

I ja sam pokuš'o jednom
Da pazim na pesnički usus:
Da se svojski rastužim,
Pa da procvilim u ritmu.

Al' ozgo vedro nebo,
A u meni nasmejana duša,
Ismejaše mi tugu,
Te ni kraj najbolje volje
Ne mogoh otkriti smrt
U prirodi.

Naprotiv, ja volim kad pada lišće,
Te u stotini boja,
Od crvene do crno-mrke,
Pokrije tle;
A sunce na njega padne,
Pa dotka ćilim.

[Mariška]

SOPOS AETERNUS - The Inexperienced Spiral Traveller

Alles ist nur Illusion und von mir erschaffen,
Doch ich vermag ihr nicht zu entflieh'n,
Bin in meinem eigenen Trugbild gefangen,
Und meine armen Augen erkennen kein Ziel.
Die Antwort kann niemals im Außen sein,
Sie liegt stets im Innern, schläft tief in mir drin,
Doch welches Auge schaut hinein,
Ich brauche ein neues Auge, einen neuen Sinn.
Die Zeit ist wie ein Ort und gleichsam ein Zustand,
Und ich bin darin, denn ich bin ihr Quell,
Gefangen in meiner eigenen Schöpfung,
Auf der verzweifelten Suche nach meinem wahren Selbst...

[Orlando the Lady]

ALL things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,
The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; 5
I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,
With the earth and the sky and the water, remade, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

[Speculum Columbae]

No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change:
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old,
And rather make them born to our desire
Than think that we before have heard them told.
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wondering at the present nor the past,
For thy records and what we see doth lie,
Made more or less by thy continual haste.
This I do vow and this shall ever be;
I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee.

[acid drop]

Idem
Od jedne ruke do druge
Gde si
Zagrlio bih te
Grlim tvoju odsutnost
Poljubio bih ti glas
Čujem smeh daljina
Usne mi lice rastrgle
Iz presahlih dlanova
Blistava mi se pojavi
Hteo bih da te vidim
Pa oči zaklapam
Idem
Od jedne slepoočnice do druge
Gde si