Bootstrap Framework 3.3.6

[Garbo]

"TI ZRACIS ZRAKE"

(for Her)


Na mojoj zastavi je rijec zivot
A moje srce vice, zbogom
Na mojoj zastavi je rijec nada
U mojoj dusi pise nikada.

A onda dodes ti i sve se promijeni
Ulica otvara prozore
Oci tvoje zovu me
Evo me, evo me.

Daj mi da budem tvoj vjerni vojnik
Reci samo rijec, daj mi komandu
I sve dok budem mogao da hodam
Ici cu za tobom do kraja.

I sve dok budem imao ruke
Pisacu tvoje ime
Na zidove ovoga grada
I vikacu sa krovova.

Ti zracis zrake kroz grad
Ti zracis zrake kroz grad
Srebrne zrake u moje srce
Pogoden sam i idem dalje
Ti zracis zrake kroz grad.

Na mojoj zastavi je rijec zivot
U mojoj dusi pise zauvijek
Na mojoj zastavi je tvoje ime
A moje srce vice, evo me.

[Garbo]

"MY SHAGANE!"
Sergei A.Yesenin

(for Her)



You said that Sa'adi
Kissed only on the breasts.
Wait for God sake,
I'll learn one day!

You sang 'Behind the Yefrat
The roses are better than mortal girls'.
If I were rich,
I would make another tune.

I'd cut these roses,
For there is only one joy for me --
That there couldn't be in the whole world the one
Better than my dear Shagane.

And don't torture me with your legacy,
I have no legacies.
As I was born a poet,
I kiss like a poet.

[Garbo]

"ROSES"
George Eliot

(for Her)



You love the roses - so do I. I wish
The sky would rain down roses, as they rain
From off the shaken bush. Why will it not?
Then all the valley would be pink and white
And soft to tread on. They would fall as light
As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be
Like sleeping and like waking, all at once!

[Garbo]

"MORE STRONG THAN TIME"
Victor Hugo

(for Her)


Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,
Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,
Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it,
And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade;

Since it was given to me to hear on happy while,
The words wherein your heart spoke all it's mysteries,
Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile,
Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes;

Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam,
A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always,
Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime's stream,
Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days;

I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours,
Pass, pass upon your way, for I grow never old,
Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers,
One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold.

Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill
The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet;
My heart has far more fire than you can frost to chill,
My soul more love than you can make my soul forget.

[Garbo]

"MY MISTRESS' EYES ARE NOTHING LIKE THE SUN" (Sonnet 130)
William Shakespeare

(for Her)



My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

[Garbo]

"SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A SUMMER'S DAY?" (Sonnets XVIII)
William Shakespeare

(for Her)




Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

[Garbo]

"YOU DON'T LOVE ME AND DONT'T FEEL COMPASSION"
Sergei A. Yesenin

(for Her)


Don't you think that now I look my best?
Though you look aside you're thrilled with passion
As you put your arms upon my chest.

You are young, so sensitive and zealous,
I am neither bad nor very good to you.
Tell me, did you pet a lot of fellows?
You remember many arms and lips? You do?

They are gone and haven't touched you any,
Gone like shadows, leaving you aflame.
You have sat upon the laps of many,
You are sitting now on mine, without shame.

Though your eyes are closed, and you are rather
Thinking of someone you really trust,
After all, I do not love you either,
I am lost in thought about my dear past.

Don't you call this zeal predestination,
Hasty tie is thoughtless and no good,
Like I set up this unplanned connection,
I will smile when leaving you for good.

You will go the pathway of your own
Just to have your days unwisely spent,
Don't approach the ones not fully grown,
Don't entice the ones that never burnt.

When you walk with someone down the alley
Chatting merrily about love and all
Maybe, I'll be out, walking round shyly,
And again, by chance, I'll meet you, poor soul.

Squaring shoulders, ravishing and winning,
Bending slightly forward, with an air kiss,
You will utter quietly: Good evening!
And I will reply: Good evening, miss.

Nothing will disturb my heart and spirit,
Nothing will perturb me giving pain,-
He who's been in love will not retrieve it,
He who's burnt will not be lit again.

[Garbo]

Sergei A.Yesenin

(for Her)


Trinity devotions. Morning cannon rite,


Birch-trees in the grove are filled with ringing light.

Villagers are coming after festive sleep,
In the chimes of wind the heady spring will steep.

There are bands and branches on the window panes.
I will cry with flowers over grieves and pains.

Sing, you birds, lamenting, I will sing along,
We"ll consign to dust my boyhood to this song.

Trinity devotions. Morning cannon rite,
Birch-trees in the grove are filled with ringing light.

[Garbo]

"MIRNO MOJE SRCE SPAVA"
Desanka Maksimovic

(for Her)


Snegovi, snegovi po svemu
Mirno moje srce spava
Sad mrtva ruka zaborava
blago je pala po njemu

Bilo je tuznog svega
ispod svoda neba plava
Mirno moje srce spava
Ne budite sada njega

I radost i bol je prosao
I laz i ljubav prava
Mirno moje srce spava
San je tihim korakom dosao

Ni za cim nemam zedji ni gladi
U grudima mi sad san otkucava
Mirno moje srce spava
UBIJENI JELEN MLADI

[Garbo]

"LOVE'S LAST ADIEU"
Lord George Gordon Byron

(for Her)


The roses of Love glad the garden of life,
Though nurtur'd 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,
Till Time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife,
Or prunes them for ever, in Love's last adieu!

In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart,
In vain do we vow for an age to be true;
The chance of an hour may command us to part,
Or Death disunite us, in Love's last adieu!

Still Hope, breathing peace, through the grief-swollen breast,
Will whisper, “Our meeting we yet may renew:”
With this dream of deceit, half our sorrow's represt,
Nor taste we the poison, of Love's last adieu!

Oh! Mark you yon pair, in the sunshine of youth,
Love twin'd round their childhood his flow'rs as they grew;
They flourish awhile, in the season of truth,
Till chill'd by the winter of Love's last adieu!

Sweet lady! Why thus doth a tear steal it's way,
Down a cheek which outrivals thy bosom in hue?
Yet why do I ask? - to distraction a prey,
Thy reason has perish'd, with Love's last adieu!

Oh! Who is yon Misanthrope, shunning mankind?
From cities to caves of the forest he flew:
There, raving, he howls his complaint to the wind;
The mountains reverberate Love's last adieu!

Now Hate rules a heart which in Love's easy chains,
Once Passion's tumultuous blandishments knew;
Despair now inflames the dark tide of his veins,
He ponders, in frenzy, on Love's last adieu!

How he envies the wretch, with a soul wrapt in steel!
His pleasures are scarce, yet his troubles are few,
Who laughs at the pang that he never can feel,
And dreads not the anguish of Love's last adieu!

Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o'ercast;
No more, with Love's former devotion, we sue:
He spreads his young wing, he retires with the blast;
The shroud of affection is Love's last adieu!

In this life of probation, for rapture divine,
Astrea declares that some penance is due;
From him, who has worshipp'd at Love's gentle shrine,
The atonement is ample, in Love's last adieu!

Who kneels to the God, on his altar of light
Must myrtle and cypress alternately strew:
His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight,
His cypress, the garland of Love's last adieu!

[Garbo]

for Her



How do i suppose to live without you...
I`m like a wandering beast with a stone cold heart, but heart with a bleeding wound, a wound from an eternal love...
Every day, every minute, every second, i become a pray just because of you,
how do i suppose to live without you...

[Garbo]

"ПРВО ПИСМО"
Петре М. Андреевски

(for Her)



Ништо не е повидливо
и ништо не е поприсутно од твоето отсуство:
ни детските шепоти што ги откривав
во сеидбите на дождовите,
ни закажаната бура во пајажините
од крајпатните меанчиња,
ни воздушните патишта, осветлени од ластовиците,
ни она што добива форма само во мојот слух,
ни мојот слух додека во него задоцнетиот штурец
го навиваше својот ноќен часовник,
ни родилните маки на фрленото семе,
ни разгорениот пожар на главата од петелот
додека бега од сенката што слегува од небото,
ни просторот што ми остана меѓу твоите раце,
меѓу твоите два припека,
ни змијата што го возбудува врвот од житата,
ни снежните намети и налети во афионовите полиња,
ни пламенот што надојдува, како есенска магла,
во низата од пиперките,
ни љубовта и омразата меѓу клучот и катанецот,
ни притаената светлина во купениот кибрит;
ништо не е повидливо,
ништо повидливо од твојата трага
пред мене и зад мене, со мене и во мене.

[Garbo]

"SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY, LIKE THE NIGHT"
Lord George Gordon Byron

(for Her)



She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,—
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.

[Garbo]

"CEKANJE"
Melita Djurisic

(for Her)



Cekanje je
umiranje nedocekanog,
trenutak koji nije dolazak.

Cekanje miriše na bolnice-
nosi postojan zadah truljenja nade.
Cekanje odnosi dah,
ono je nekad molitva,
nekad mržnja i neispavana tuga.
Sve zavisi od godina cekanja,
od oveštalih trenutaka izgubljenih u njemu.
Ja ga mrzim svim onim
čime bih mogla da volim.
Jer, ono je početak i kraj želje,
porodjaj bez ploda.
Molitvenik jastuka, asfalta,
isprepletanih ruku u bioskopima.
Hiljadita suza zbog iste stvari,
a opet prvi bol nepreboljen.

Cekanje je ljubavnik umirućih ljubavi,
ono je dolazak nedolaska,
randevu sa sećanjem.

[Garbo]

(for Her)



Gledas u mrak
nista ne pricas.
Slusam ti dah lak i nemiran.

Na prstima se prikradam
kao kad mesec krade dan
do tvojih tajni da ih otkljucam.

Dal` da te pitam
jel` to ljubav umire
il` mi to samo slutnje govore.

Ili da cutim
da te nista ne pitam
i iz tvog oka sve procitam.

Ne grlis me vise kao pre
i dali je sve deo navike.

Na prstima se prikradam
kao kad mesec krade dan
do tvojih tajni da ih otkljucam.

[Garbo]

"SUSRET"
Jovan Ducic

(za Tebe ....)



Cekasmo se dugo, a kad smo se sreli,
Dala si mi ruku i posla si sa mnom,
I iduci stazom nejasnom i tamnom,
Iskali smo sunca i srece smo hteli.

Oboje smo strasno verovali tada
Da se besmo nasli. I mi nismo znali
Koliko smo bili umorni i pali
Od sumnja i davno prezivljenih jada...

I za navek kad se rastasmo, i tako
Stezuc svoje srce rukama obema,
Otisla si placna, zamrzla i nema,
Ko sto bese dosla, tuzno i polako.

[Garbo]

"MORE"

(za Tebe ....)


Cujes li suze koje padaju niz lice
Kao kapi kise
Potoci radosti i tuge
Sto se slevaju niz moju dusu.

Da
U mom srcu besni more
I preti da ce me razbiti poput stene.

Peni se i udara
Tuga...
Pa opet radost
Pa opet tuga...
Tuga sto ne znam volis li me
A radost sto sam cuo tvoj glas
Vidio tvoje lice
Osetio tvoj dodir.

Osecas li me u sebi
Dodirujem te u srcu poput povetarca
Poput tople kise
Tako nezno
A opet snazno
Osecas li kako zidovi nestaju izmedju nas
Kako se lome

To je more
Sto se probija iz mog srca
Sto obecava i preti
Osecas li zar?

Dodirni me tu unutra
Tu gde je moj dom
Izadjimo zajedno na liticu
Da gledamo kako more tuce
Pa se smiruje
Kako se rasipa megju stenama negova pretnja
Kako se smiruje samo zato
Jer si ti tu kraj mene...

[Garbo]

"MOJA MELANKOLIJA"
Apostolos Melahrinos

(za Tebe ....)



Osjećam danas da je moje srce osamljeno.
Zato u vrt odoh da te susretnem.
Upropastih život svoj, da bih ti mogla doći
u mirise cvijeća i zvuk skladnosti.

Lovorovo lišće navlažila kiša rosulja
pjevajući tužni rekvijem.
Kap prije nego padne drhtavo
želi da me pozdravi.

Prolazim stazama gdje sam toliko o tebi sanjao,
ne bi li štogod tvoga susreo.
Neka tuga obara svaki pup,
a ti kao sjena nad mojim lebdiš snom.

Tuga zasjenila tvoje oči u mojoj duši,
sanjom zasjenila pa zato plaču. Ginem.
I suton sve jače osutonio pa sjenama svojim
želi da bol progonstva ispije.

I da stabla jesen osjete,
ja na njih siplem svoju dušu
i snove im sušim. Tek sada jedva
uspomena diše prepuna gorčine
k'o prikaza sunčanih smiraja iza planine.

[Garbo]

(za Tebe ....)


Cujem sum mora
osecam njegov
Miris
Vidim veliki
beli mesec
i tebe
kako uz obalu seces

Osecam tvoje misli
meni upucene
Plove daljinom
nedostiznom
za obicne ljude

Pricas mi ono sto znam
vec odavno
i pravdas se sa sobom
sto nisam
kao i drugi

Jos sam gori od onih sto
skrivaju svoje zelje
i pricaju ti druge price

Stisao se sum mora
Lagano jenjava njegov miris
Zavesa tvoje sobe
krije mesec

Laku noc
jos malo pa cu i ja
Poc.

[Garbo]

"POSLEDNJE PUTOVANJE"
Juan Ramón Jiménez



Otići ću. A ptice će ostati
pjevajući,
i ostat će vrt moj sa svojim zelenim stablom
i svojim bijelim zdencem.

Svake večeri nebo će biti plavo i spokojno,
i zvonit će, kao i večeras,
zvona sa zvonika.

Umrijet će oni koji su me voljeli,
i svijet će se obnavljati svake godine,
a u uglu mog vrta rascvala i okrečena
lutat će duh moj, nostalgičan...

Otići ću, i bit ću sam, bez ognjišta, bez stabla
zelenog, bez zdenca obijeljena,
bez neba plava i spokojna...
A ptice će ostati pjevajući.

(za Tebe ....)

[Garbo]

"NOTTURNO"


Mlačna noć; u selu lavež; kasan
Ćuk il netopir;
Ljubav cvijeća—miris jak i strasan
Slavi tajni pir.
Sitni cvrčak sjetno cvrči, jasan
Kao srebren vir;
Teške oči sklapaju se na san,
S neba rosi mir.
S mrkog tornja bat
Broji pospan sat,
Blaga svjetlost sipi sa visina;
Kroz samoću, muk,
Sve je tiši huk:
Željeznicu guta već daljina.

(za Tebe ....)

[Garbo]

(za Tebe ....)



I gledam najlepsu ruzu u suton
kako salje poslednji pozdrav nebu.
Gledam voljenu ruzu u suton
kako prelijeva boju svojih latica u oblake.
I gledam jedinu ruzu u suton
dok gasi se svijetlo nad nama.
Gledam svoju ruzu u suton
dok sklapa umorne latice
i tone u crnilo mraka.
Pruzam ruke da je zagrlim
da je stitim od studenih noci.
Ali mesto mekog dodira cvijeta
prste mi izbolo trnje.
I nema je.
Nema krvave boje najlepseg cvijeta
sto budio me u zoru.
Ni mirisa njezina ni dodira
sto pratio me kroz dan.
U mom tuznom vrtu
ostala je samo sjena.
I na vlatima trave pokoja kap kristalne rose
jedva zamijetan trag moje uplakane duse.

[Garbo]

"I WANT TO DIE BEFORE YOU"
Nazim Hikmet



I
want to die before you.
Do you think that who passes later
will find who's gone before?
I don't think so.
You'd better have me burned,
and put me on the stove in your room
in a jar.
The jar shall be made of glass,
transparent, white glass
so that you can see me inside...
You see my sacrifice:
I renounced from being part of the earth,
I renounced from being a flower
to be able to stay with you.
And I am becoming dust,
to live with you.
Later, when you also die,
you'll come to my jar.
And we'll live there together
your ash in my ash,
until a careless bride
or an unfaithful grandson
throws us out of there...
But we
until that time
will mix
with each other
so much that
even in the garbage we are thrown into
our grains will fall side by side.
We will dive into the soil together.
And one day, if a wild flower
feeds from this piece of soil and blossoms
above its body, definitely
there will be two flowers:
one is you
one is me.

I
don't think of death yet.
I will give birth to a child.
Life is flooding from me.
My blood is boiling.
I will live, but long, very long,
but with you.
Death doesn't scare me either.
But I find our way of funeral
rather unlikable.
Until I die,
I think this will get better.
Is there a hope you'll get out of prison these days?
A voice in me says:
maybe.

(for You ....)

[Garbo]

"I LOVE YOU"
Nazim Hikmet



I love you
like dipping bread into salt and eating
Like waking up at night with high fever
and drinking water, with the tap in my mouth
Like unwrapping the heavy box from the postman
with no clue what it is
fluttering, happy, doubtful
I love you
like flying over the sea in a plane for the first time
Like something moves inside me
when it gets dark softly in Istanbul
I love you
Like thanking God that we live.

(for You ....)

[Garbo]

"HYMN TO LIFE"
Nazim Hikmet



The hair falling on your forehead
suddenly lifted.
Suddenly something stirred on the ground.
The trees are whispering
in the dark.
Your bare arms will be cold.

Far off
where we can't see,
the moon must be rising.
It hasn't reached us yet,
slipping through the leaves
to light up your shoulder.
But I know
a wind comes up with the moon.
The trees are whispering.
Your bare arms will be cold.

From above,
from the branches lost in the dark,
something dropped at your feet.
You moved closer to me.
Under my hand your bare flesh is like the fuzzy skin of a fruit.
Neither a song of the heart nor "common sense"--
before the trees, birds, and insects,
my hand on my wife's flesh
is thinking.
Tonight my hand
can't read or write.
Neither loving nor unloving...
It's the tongue of a leopard at a spring,
a grape leaf,
a wolf's paw.
To move, breathe, eat, drink.
My hand is like a seed
splitting open underground.
Neither a song of the heart nor "common sense,"
neither loving nor unloving.
My hand thinking on my wife's flesh
is the hand of the first man.
Like a root that finds water underground,
it says to me:
"To eat, drink, cold, hot, struggle, smell, color--
not to live in order to die
but to die to live..."

And now
as red female hair blows across my face,
as something stirs on the ground,
as the trees whisper in the dark,
and as the moon rises far off
where we can't see,
my hand on my wife's flesh
before the trees, birds, and insects,
I want the right of life,
of the leopard at the spring, of the seed splitting open--
I want the right of the first man.

(for You ....)


Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk

[Garbo]

"LETTER TO MY WIFE"
Nazim Hikmet

(for You ....)



11-11-1933
Bursa Prison
My one and only!
Your last letter says:
"My head is throbbing,
my heart is stunned!"
You say:
"If they hang you,
if I lose you,
I'll die!"
You'll live, my dear-
my memory will vanish like black smoke in the wind.
Of course you'll live, red-haired lady of my heart:
in the twentieth century
grief lasts
at most a year.

Death-
a body swinging from a rope.
My heart
can't accept such a death.
But
you can bet
if some poor gypsy's hairy black
spidery hand
slips a noose
around my neck,
they'll look in vain for fear
in Nazim's
blue eyes!
In the twilight of my last morning
I
will see my friends and you,
and I'll go
to my grave
regretting nothing but an unfinished song...
My wife!
Good-hearted,
golden,
eyes sweeter than honey-my bee!
Why did I write you
they want to hang me?
The trial has hardly begun,
and they don't just pluck a man's head
like a turnip.
Look, forget all this.
If you have any money,
buy me some flannel underwear:
my sciatica is acting up again.
And don't forget,
a prisoner's wife
must always think good thoughts.



Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk

[Garbo]

"THINGS I DIDN'T KNOW I LOVED"
Nazim Hikmet

(for You ....)



It's 1962 March 28th
I'm sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train
night is falling
I never knew I liked
night descending like a tired bird on a smoky wet plain
I don't like
comparing nightfall to a tired bird

I didn't know I loved the earth
can someone who hasn't worked the earth love it
I've never worked the earth
it must be my only Platonic love

And here I've loved rivers all this time
whether motionless like this they curl skirting the hills
European hills crowned with chateaus
or whether stretched out flat as far as the eye can see
I know you can't wash in the same river even once
I know the river will bring new lights you'll never see
I know we live slightly longer than a horse but not nearly as long as a crow
I know this has troubled people before
and will trouble those after me
I know all this has been said a thousand times before
and will be said after me

I didn't know I loved the sky
cloudy or clear
the blue vault Andrei studied on his back at Borodino
in prison I translated both volumes of War and Peace into Turkish
I hear voices
not from the blue vault but from the yard
the guards are beating someone again
I didn't know I loved trees
bare beeches near Moscow in Peredelkino
they come upon me in winter noble and modest
beeches are Russian the way poplars are Turkish
"the poplars of Izmir
losing their leaves...
they call me The Knife...
lover like a young tree...
I blow stately mansions sky-high"
in the Ilgaz woods in 1920 I tied an embroidered linen handkerchief
to a pine bough for luck

I never knew I loved roads
even the asphalt kind
Vera's behind the wheel we're driving from Moscow to the Crimea
Koktebele
formerly "Goktepé ili" in Turkish
the two of us inside a closed box
the world flows past on both sides distant and mute
I was never so close to anyone in my life
bandits stopped me on the red road between Bolu and Geredé
when I was eighteen
apart from my life I didn't have anything in the wagon they could take
and at eighteen our lives are what we value least
I've written this somewhere before
wading through a dark muddy street I'm going to the shadow play
Ramazan night
a paper lantern leading the way
maybe nothing like this ever happened
maybe I read it somewhere an eight-year-old boy
going to the shadow play
Ramazan night in Istanbul holding his grandfather's hand
his grandfather has on a fez and is wearing the fur coat
with a sable collar over his robe
and there's a lantern in the servant's hand
and I can't contain myself for joy
flowers come to mind for some reason
poppies cactuses jonquils
in the jonquil garden in Kadikoy Istanbul I kissed Marika
fresh almonds on her breath
I was seventeen
my heart on a swing touched the sky
I didn't know I loved flowers
friends sent me three red carnations in prison

I just remembered the stars
I love them too
whether I'm floored watching them from below
or whether I'm flying at their side

I have some questions for the cosmonauts
were the stars much bigger
did they look like huge jewels on black velvet
or apricots on orange
did you feel proud to get closer to the stars
I saw color photos of the cosmos in Ogonek magazine now don't
be upset comrades but nonfigurative shall we say or abstract
well some of them looked just like such paintings which is to
say they were terribly figurative and concrete
my heart was in my mouth looking at them
they are our endless desire to grasp things
seeing them I could even think of death and not feel at all sad
I never knew I loved the cosmos

Snow flashes in front of my eyes
both heavy wet steady snow and the dry whirling kind
I didn't know I liked snow

I never knew I loved the sun
even when setting cherry-red as now
in Istanbul too it sometimes sets in postcard colors
but you aren't about to paint it that way
I didn't know I loved the sea
except the Sea of Azov
or how much

I didn't know I loved clouds
whether I'm under or up above them
whether they look like giants or shaggy white beasts

Moonlight the falsest the most languid the most petit-bourgeois
strikes me
I like it

I didn't know I liked rain
whether it falls like a fine net or splatters against the glass my
heart leaves me tangled up in a net or trapped inside a drop
and takes off for uncharted countries I didn't know I loved
rain but why did I suddenly discover all these passions sitting
by the window on the Prague-Berlin train
is it because I lit my sixth cigarette
one alone could kill me
is it because I'm half dead from thinking about someone back in Moscow
her hair straw-blond eyelashes blue

The train plunges on through the pitch-black night
I never knew I liked the night pitch-black
sparks fly from the engine
I didn't know I loved sparks
I didn't know I loved so many things and I had to wait until sixty
to find it out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train
watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return

19 April 1962
Moscow



Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk

[Garbo]

"YOU ARE MY DRUNKENNESS"
Nazim Hikmet

(for You ....)



You are my drunkenness...
I did not sober up, as if I can do that;
I don't want to anyway.
I have a headache, my knees are full of scars
I am in mud all around
I struggle to walk towards your hesitant light.

[Garbo]

"OSMEH"
Ivan V. Lalic



Ko zlatna maska iz Mikene,
Koja je drugi oblik praha,
Ugledao sam na dnu mene
Taj osmeh zadržanog daha,

Što uspeo je da se zgusne
Za trenut na dno ogledala;
Okom bez boje i bez žene
Budućnost me je pogledala,

Nemušto, mudro i bez strasti,
Ko kućna zmija pod dovratkom;
Ma da je sve u njenoj vlasti
Još uvek bol je za povratkom

Na sredokraću, ravnotežu,
U stanju mirovanja vage:
Al godine se koso sležu
I mrve u arhipelage -

U sabijanju ovom zemnom
To dvojnika sam pogledao;
Smešio se kao Agamemnon
U dvostrukom ogledalu.

(za Tebe ....)

[Garbo]

"POSVETA"
Zvonimir Golob


Ponovo citam stihove koje si ti napisala
mojom rukom. Isti ih covek cita
i razumije ih jos na isti nacin. Koliko
njeznosti u njima za tebe, koliko nade i nevolje
izmedju prvog i poslednjeg stiha.
Tako je htjela tvoja dusa, ali koja izmedju
mnogih, koja dusa kojega dana
na kojem mjestu obiljezenom pored kojeg
zelenila srebrnog, dok su oblaci bili na
drugoj strani, a tvoje lice uz moje.
Ili ona druga jos nepoznata
u kome je kamenu od mene skrivena
gde da je trazim u kome jutru
ispod koje planine pokrivene vatrom.
Vidim ono sto ne vidis
i cujem ono sto ne cujes
dok se udaljavam od sebe sama.

(za Tebe ....)