I build within the houses I will never live in (Nafaka)
the beds I sleep in I have never made
rains I drink I will never fall with
and the rains I fall in I never drank
the wind I breathe embracing the sides of the worls
what I want I can say no more
open for everything
for happiness and sorrow
good and evil
a cloud and a sun
even though
what I say can embrace me no more
u kucama gradim koje stanovala nisam
u krevetu spavam koji pospremila nisam
kise pijem s kojima pasti nikad necu
s kisama padam koje nikad popila nisam
s vjetrom disem koji strane svijeta grli
sve sto hocu vise ne mogu da kazem
otvorena za sve
za srecu i patnje
za dobro i zlo
oblake i sunca
iako
sve sto hocu vise ne moze da me zagrli
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Quite Subsidiary / Sasvim Pritocno
diary pages i never wrote
due to some unknown individual intuition
a friend once explained to me
which i never really understood
they keep oozing in front of my eyes
a trailer from a movie long forgot
a midsummer's heat
pronounced at the tip of my tongue
that does not remember the language
but is ready to outriver the numbers
sliding down the covers
there's a painting perhaps
that i've never been up to
and i will never paint
a draft made of eyes and ears void
staring right at me from the broken sky
that knows each piece of its shatteredness
foretold by the mirror
i normally use to put lipstick only
or merely draft my eyes so as not to forget them
by the end of the day
and each time my fingers prolong into keyboards
there's a music played unheard humming oou of debris
the world would say it's time for itself to die
in the meaning of each word that's uttered about it
stubbornly defending its unutteredness
that always shakes me into an earthquake speech
and just like an earthquake i cannot stand still
there are too many cracks i made and need to fill
sascim pritocno
stranice dnevnika koje nikad nisam ispisala
zahvaljujuci jednoj individualnoj intuiciji
koju mi je prijatelj jednom objasnio
a nikad je nisam razumjela
cure mi pred ocima
trejler iz filma davno zaboravljenog
Jovanjdanja vrelina
izgovorena na vrhu jezika
koja je zaboravila jezik
ali je spremna da nadrijeci brojeve
što klize niz korice
postoji moždajedna slika
kojoj nikad nisam bila dorasla
koju nikad necu naslikati
slika napravljena od ociju i ušiju jaza
koja me posmatra pravo iz slomljenog neba
koje poznaje svaki komadic svoje polomljenosti
obrecene ogledalom
što ga obicno koristim samo da bih stavila ruž
ili skicirala svoje oci
da ih ne zaboravim do kraja dana
i svaki put kad mi se prsti izduže u klavijature
stvara se necujna muzika što pjevuši iz srce
svijet bi rekao da mu je vrijeme da umre
u znacenju svake rijeci koja je o njemu izrecena
uporno braneci svoju neizrecivost
koja me uvijek protrese u govor zemljotresa
i baš kao zemljotres ne mogu da stojim mirno
ima previše pukotina koje sam stvorila
a moram da ih popunim
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Zdravo, Moje Ime Je Sara
Moje ime je Sara.
Ja sam ona koja nisam,
koja nikada nisam.
Ovo su ruke za moje zagrljaje.
Osakacene prazninom.
Okrunjene u prstenju koje sumrakom skidam
i u tmine bacam.
One pisu istoriju plasticne igracke
sahranjene u grobovima djetinjstva
koje nije doraslo do kolijevke.
Zovem se Sara.
Ja sam ona koja pokusava da bude.
Ovo su stopala za moje korake.
Ukocene putevima.
Vezana zveketavim nakitom
koji sumrakom skidam i u tmine bacam.
Ona hodaju nepostojecim ulicama
kojima gaze jos samo prividi staza.
Silaze u bunare
da u njima udave
proplivalu nadu za kraj.
Moje ime je Sara.
Ja sam ona koja bi htjela.
Ovo je vrat za vase ruke.
Dotaknite lagano.
Vezan je hiljadama lancica
koje sumrakom skidam
i u tmine bacam.
Ona jedu halapljivo,
krugove u koje sazimam snove
dozvoljavam da dira.
Neka je.
Zovem se Sara.
Ja sam ona koja ne pristaje.
Ovo je kosa za moje pletenice.
U njima trake od srebra
i bisere sjajne sumrakom skidam
i u tmine bacam. Neka ih.
Prekrsila sam sva pravila.
Razbila klise,
zacarane krugove,
pocijepala stranice
na kojima mi ispisuju sudbinu.
Ja sam Sara.
Ja sam ona koja nisam.
Ja sam ona koja uvijek
samo pokusavam da budem.
Ja sam ona koja hoce.
Ja sam ona koja ne pristaje.
Ja sam uvijek,
vjecnoscu stegnuta
u sipljive trenutke. Ja sam nada
umrla za kraj.
Ja sam ona koja hoce da razumije.
Ja sam ona koja ne razumije uvijek.
Ali JESAM.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ja nisam gost
ja nisam gost ovom tihom času
kad kiša za mene gorku kapju sprema
ne priznajem pad ni kad postoji zagrljaj
što će me odnijeti rijekama do ušća
i neću kraj kad od ničeg nije
ja hoću tok kretanje smisla
da raširim sjene i kad znanja nema
s njima da se igram i tako pomjerim
grafitu granice zida
ja nisam gost već domaćin kraj dovratka
što pod strehom stanuje od samog početka
na trijemu gdje čeka na stubu oslonjen
i ćutke gleda u noć
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The walking thunder my brother/Grom koji hoda moj brat
The walking thunder my brother
He breathes whatever the fire can se
Foretells his own flame
The walking thunder my brother
An echo of a bigiining thunders across the mountains
To stop the silence of the world
The walking thunder my brother
He lets the rains go down
For a dropp of life to fall
Grom koji hoda moj brat
Diše sve što vatra vidi
Sopstveni proriče plamen
Grom koji hoda riječ
Prolomi planinom eho početka
Ćutanje svijeta da stane
Grom koji hoda moj dan
Kiše pušta u pad
Kaplja života da kane
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Hello, my name is Sarah
My name is Sarah
I am the one who is not
Who never is
These are the hands for my embraces
Mutilated in emptiness
Husked in the rings at twilight I take off
And throw into the dark.
They are writing a history of a plastic toy
Buried in the tombs of childhood
That never grew towards a cradle.
My name is Sarah
I am the one who is trying to be
These are the feet for my steps.
Frozen in the paths
Tied by tinkling jewelerry
At twilight I take off
And throw into the dark.
They walk the streets that there are no more
The streets trodden by mere silhouettes of paths
They go down the wells
To strangle in them
A swimming hope for the end.
My name is Sarah.
I am the one who wants.
This is the neck for your hands.
Slightly touch.
It's tied in thousands of necklaces
At twilight I take off
And throw into the dark.
The darkness greedily eats
The circles I push the dreams into
I let it touch.
It's all right.
My name is Sarah.
I am the one who does not consent.
This is the hair for my plaits.
The silver ribbons
And shiny pearls at twilight I take off
And throw it into the dark.
It's all right.
I have broken all the rules
I have broken cliches
Magic circles
I tore the pages
On which
They try to write my fate.
I am Sarah
I am the one who is not
I am the one who is always
Only trying to be
I am the one who wants
I am the one who does not consent
I am always eternity tied
In pouring moments
I am the hope died for the end
I am the one who wants to understand
I am the one who does not always understand
But I AM.
Moje ime je Sara.
Ja sam ona koja nisam,
koja nikada nisam.
Ovo su ruke za moje zagrljaje.
Osakacene prazninom.
Okrunjene u prstenju koje sumrakom skidam
i u tmine bacam.
One pisu istoriju plasticne igracke
sahranjene u grobovima djetinjstva
koje nije doraslo do kolijevke.
Zovem se Sara.
Ja sam ona koja pokusava da bude.
Ovo su stopala za moje korake.
Ukocene putevima.
Vezana zveketavim nakitom
koji sumrakom skidam i u tmine bacam.
Ona hodaju nepostojecim ulicama
kojima gaze jos samo prividi staza.
Silaze u bunare
da u njima udave
proplivalu nadu za kraj.
Moje ime je Sara.
Ja sam ona koja bi htjela.
Ovo je vrat za vase ruke.
Dotaknite lagano.
Vezan je hiljadama lancica
koje sumrakom skidam
i u tmine bacam.
Ona jedu halapljivo,
krugove u koje sazimam snove
dozvoljavam da dira.
Neka je.
Zovem se Sara.
Ja sam ona koja ne pristaje.
Ovo je kosa za moje pletenice.
U njima trake od srebra
i bisere sjajne sumrakom skidam
i u tmine bacam. Neka ih.
Prekrsila sam sva pravila.
Razbila klise,
zacarane krugove,
pocijepala stranice
na kojima mi ispisuju sudbinu.
Ja sam Sara.
Ja sam ona koja nisam.
Ja sam ona koja uvijek
samo pokusavam da budem.
Ja sam ona koja hoce.
Ja sam ona koja ne pristaje.
Ja sam uvijek,
vjecnoscu stegnuta
u sipljive trenutke. Ja sam nada
umrla za kraj.
Ja sam ona koja hoce da razumije.
Ja sam ona koja ne razumije uvijek.
Ali JESAM.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come beauty come/ Dodi ljepoto dodi
The moon hurtful beyond the earth
Biting the midnight hour
Spills the quivering made of light
To summon the whole into a song
Come beauty come
The night is never old
The sunlit glow beyond the earth
Burning the desert soil
Spills the quivering made of light
To summon the whole into a song
Come beauty come
The day is never old
The waters below the roar of the sky
Soothed in a dropp through the sea
Spills the quivering made of light
To summon the whole into a song
Come beauty come
The ocean is never old
The air the seal of breathing
Rising the circles through the wind
Spills the quivering made of light
To summon the whole into a song
Come beauty come
For life is never old
Mjesec bolan nad zemljom
Što grize ponocni sat
Prosipa drhtaj od svjetla
Dodi ljepoto dodji
Noc ne stari nikad
I suncev sjaj nad zemljom
Što morem se slegnu u kap
Prosipa drhtaj od svjetla
Da prizove sve u poj
Dodi ljepoto dodji
Dan ne stari nikad
Vode pod hukom neba
Što morem se slegnu u kap
Prospu drhtaj od svjetla
Da prozovu sve u poj
Dodi ljepoto dodji
Okean ne stari nikad
Vazduh disanja pecat
Što krugove vjetrom diže
Prosipa drhtaj od svjetla
Da prizove sve u poj
Dodi ljepoto dodi
Život ne stari nikad
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sorry sorry
no road for this map
no train for this ticket
I've got nothing
sorry sorry
the colours for this dawn I still haven't found
the libreto for this twilight I still haven't written
neither the most difficult sonnet in the world
for an angel asleep
nor a drama for a lonely sideroad tree
a fragile shelter
sorry sorry
no road for this map
no ticket for this train
I've got nothing
za ovaj put nemam mapu
za ovu kartu nemam voz
nemam ništa
sorry sorry
za ovo svitanje još nisam pronašla boje
za ovaj sumrak još nisam napisala libreto
ni najteži sonet na svijetu
za usapavanog anđela
ni dramu za usamljeno drvo krajputaša
sklonište krhko
sorry sorry
za ovaj put nemam mapu
za ovaj voz nemam kartu
nemam ništa
2009.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Waiting for you /Cekanje na tebe
The midnight toll in the clock
Maybe Sunday maybe never
I spit the pigeon onto my palm
A crying handprint
A second silenced within a hope
Maybe Sunday maybe never
Maybe Sunday maybe never
Cekanje na tebe
Ponoc je kucala u satu
Mozda nedelja mozda nikad
Ispljunut golup na dlanu
Proplakan otisak
Utihnut nadanjem cas
Mozda nedelja mozda nikad
Mozda nedelja mozda nikad
2009.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A promise
Love's a promise few can fulfill
ljubav je obecanje koje mali broj moze ispuniti
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent refugees
What are we left with
When years and health are gone
When tents fall down under the roofs
When the shelters no longer shelter
When winters close down frozen and fireless
When summers burn crying for some ice
When springs forget to grow
And autumns die within a leaf
Who are we left with
When all the beloved are gone
When the helpful can no longer help
When there are no more roads to run
When the vacuum of the universe
Closes beyond our heads
Silent refugees from the earth
Silent refugees from the sky
In Who we shall die
Tihe izbjeglice
Sa č ime smo ostavljeni
Kad prođ u godine i uruč i se zdravlje
Kada se šatori pod krovovima ruše
Kad više nema skloništa
Kada se zime bez vatre smrznu
Kad ljeta prže i vape za ledom
Kad proljeć a zaborave da rastu
Kad jeseni umru u jednom listu
Sa kim smo ostavljeni
Kad voljenih više nema
Kad i oni od pomoć i pomoć i ne mogu
Kad više nema puta kojim bismo jurili
Kad se praznina svemira
Zatvori iznad glave
Tihe izbjeglice sa Zemlje
Tihe izbjeglice iz neba
U Kome mi ć emo umrijeti
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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You, very human/Ti, veoma ljudsko
you who are everything out of your nothing
you co-builder co-creator
you whom I'm building and you're being torn down
you a participant of my answer
someone facing the otherness
I facing myself
you facing yourself
you very human sometimes too much
sometimes not at all
a token inhaled into dust
you a tribe you a nation you a world
you the skin of the sun the desert the night and the snow
you always the same
your heart and mind paving heaven and hell
you who are everything out of your nothing
ti koji si sve od svoga nista
ti sa-graditelj sa-tvoritelj
ti što te gradim a ti se razgradjujes
ti sa-ucesnik mog odgovora
spram drugosti neko
spram sebe ja
spram tebe ti
ti veoma ljudsko nekad isuviše
nekad uopšte
ti pleme ti narod ti svijet
umom i srcem poplocan pakao i raj
ti koji si sve od svoga ništa
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Na dan kada naucimo kako ulice dobijaju imena
I zaronimo u geometriju oštrih slijepih uglova
Što žive svoje živote izmedu dva sna
Milimetri snage mogu se istopiti
U mapama i stazama
Muzejima na raskršcu
U semaforima što bespomocno trepcu
Kad želje bilborduju staze do pakla
U slike obmane grube zabave za posjetioce što kažu
Mi smo sad fini pristojni ljudi
Više ne gledamo kako mecka igra
Probadana žaracem
Jer smo saznali bol njenog makabra
Ali ipak smo stavili rukavice
Otišli do njenog Zoo vrta
Tražeci da nam da intervju
Iako nikad ni rijec nije rekla
Na dan kada naucimo kako ulice dobijaju imena
Ispisuje se jedan aforizam bola
Što hrani se na kraju redova
I stiska adresu remek djelo
On pulsira 'mjesta molim mjesta da pokucam
Bez imena mrtva ste ulica
Došao sam da zaplacem kraj zvona na vratima
Što zvoni spram putujeceg prodavca snova
Što došao je samo da pozdravi majku
Jer danas ne prodaje ništa
Cak ni Boga za mjesecni prihod
Nijedan recept za srecniji život
Danas je došao da pita spavace sobe na spratu
O malom djecaku što mokrio je u krevet
I skrivao svoje košmare pod dušek
I matrici dizajniranoj što živi u kutiji za igracke
Medu jednonogim olovnim vojnicima
Kraj lutke djevojcice sa šibicama
Obešcašcene pod Božicnom jelkom'
Na dan kada naucimo kako ulice dobijaju imena
Vozovi stanu zanijemili na šinama
Slijepi se putnici iskrcavaju peroni pucaju
Trgovi se crvene od paradajz revolucija
Što flertuju sa metaforama krvi
Bare podojene majkom hrabrošcu
Isparavaju u sušama južnih zraka
I vracaju se sa rodama što ne radaju djecu
Na dan kada naucimo kako ulice dobijaju imena
Zidovi stružu svoju farbu suzno tražeci
Boju necijih ociju u svakoj zidanost da udave
I apokalipticno kripticni grafiti
Pomjeraju kaldrmisane ulice
I svi tramvaji nazvani po tockovima vremena
Pomjeraju beskrajne gradove u svemiru
Što oplakuju avionske nesrece
Kad rukama isprepletanim gradimo mreže velegrada
Kao pauci sobom izjedeni što pletu
Tragove sopstvene pljuvacke da bi uredno bili usisani
U danima kad stanodavac ima vremena da ocisti prašinu
Naucimo da ulice mijenjaju imena
Onako kako zmije mijenjaju košuljice
Ali nikada nacin vijuganja
Naucimo da postoje hiljade bezimenih heroja
Koji sklupcani na uglovima prose mjesto
Gdje ulice nece imati imena
Koji nikad nisu zaradili ulicu što ce se po njima zvati
Zahvaljujuci nekom istoricaru što silovao je tekst u fusnotama
I oprao ruke krivice nad zlocinom
Što ulice pokrece da kruže
Što uglove pokrece do sljepila
Sa vlasnikom podataka bez vizije
Što umace svoje pero u bare onoga
Što treba da bude znacajno sjecanje
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Misty Hidden Of Mine/Moje Magleno Skriveno
In the daybreak song
Will take the forests into an embrace
My never hoped for
Heartbeat cut off the heart
Will spill the walls into a midnight sound
Mine within the chains treasure in my hands
Will toll cursed from the towers
Sadly the song of awakening
Into the deafness
Mine into nothing flooded water
A current beginning into an endless
Will cut the seams and sew
A new array for the soul's nakedness
Mine on my palm colourful lonely butterfly
Moving the wings like eaves in the tempest
Maddened by the possibility of flight
My never enough overcome dawn
In an empty bad
Where I am enfolded up to the point of no recognition
Mine sharpened pencils
Regularly waiting for the words
Will be broken halved in them
Mine from fatigue cracked mirror
That each morning I feed with a smile
Twinkling yearning for the truth
Mine long time ago lost waiting
On the benches below the trees
Despair chained
Prever quoted ages of circles
On my skins
Digging the death memory
Mine after forty days black nails uncut
digging the memory of death
Mine encircled in the dewdrops of crying eyelashes
Which silently I close
With the soul limited sight
Mine sealed lips
Quivering of love
To you I will surrender God
To judge and please forgive
Moje magleno skriveno
Pjesmom praskozorja
Odvešć e šume u zagrljaj
Moje nenadano od srca
Otkinuto kucanje
Pretoč ić e zidove u otkucaj ponoć i
Moje u rukama zatoč eno blago
Prokleto zvonić e sa zvonika
Tužno pjesmu buđ enja
U nedosluhu
Moja u ništa otplavljena voda
Poč etkom oticanja u beskraj
Odagnać e rubove i sašiti
Nove odore za nagost duše
Moj na dlanu šareni usamljeni leptir
Klepeć e ko streha na buri
Sluđ en moguć nošć u leta
Moje nikad prežaljeno svitanje
U postelji praznoj
U kojoj se umotavam do neraspoznavanja
Moje od umora napukmo ogledalo
Koje svakog jutra osmjehom hranim
Istine gladna iskrič avost
Moje naoštrene olovke
Koje uredno č ekaju riječ i
Pokidać e se u njima
Moje davno izgubljeno č ekanje
Po klupama ispod drveć a
Zarobljeni oč aj
Preverom citirana starost godova
Na mojoj koži
Moji poslije č etrdeset dana
Pocrnjeli nepodšišani nokti
Kojima kopam sjeć anje na smrt
Moje rosom plakanja omeđ ene trepavice
Koje tiho obaram sklapam
S pogledom omeđ enim dušom
Moje zapeč ać ene usne
Koje podrhtavaju od ljubavi
Tebi dać u Bože
Da sudiš i molim te oprostiš
©Miroslava Odalović ,2009.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A Beat Of Sorrow That Thinks Of Beauty/Otkucaj Tuge Sto Ljepotu Mni
it takes a memory that runs over itself
to get to learn and endless southern rhythm
it takes a fire that burns itself down
to get to know an ocean wave
it takes tender enough strong enough fingers
to summerize anything into a touch
so that the heard amidst the things could recognise
a beat of sorrow that thinks of beauty
it takes much more and reaches much stronger
to ask for more to search and look
so as to eventually know
the one in the seed of wake planted
the being cut off from itself
into the cliffs of the world pushed forever
it takes a huge knowledge an endless one
of this world's drama
for just one beat of sorrow that thinks of beauty
otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni
potrebno je sjećanje koje samo sebe gazi
da bi se spoznao beskrajni ritam juga
potrebna je vatra koja samu sebe spaljuje
da bi se spoznao okeanov talas
potrebni su dovoljno nježni i snažni prsti
da bi se išta saželo u dodir
da bi srce u srži svega moglo da prepozna
otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni
potrebno je mnogo više mnogo snažnije
da se ište dalje da se traži
da bi se najzad saznalo
ono u sjemenu buđenja začeto
od sebe samog otkinuto biće
u urvine svijeta zauvijek bačeno
potrebno je jedno veliko beskrajno veliko
poznavanje drame ovog svijeta
za samo jedan otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni
1990.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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This is my silence with the taste of ‘never’
A single plunge from the tip of the tongue
Into the clouds anxiety sponges
Burdened with water and wells too mute
Of elements void of translation
A single flame from the tip of the fingers
That once touched the hard locked heart
Within the heights all skies to burn
In elements void of translation
A single stone cast into a cradle
Rocks an embryo crying for a womb
Like a childless lap still eager to fly
In elements void of translation
A single breath signed by an ocean wind
That namelessly carves the gates of open cages
Wrestling with the forbidden language
In elements void of translation
This is my silence with the taste of ‘never’
I give it solely unto you
Ovo je moja tišina sa ukusom 'nikad'
Jedno poniranje sa vrha jezika
U oblake sundere tjeskobe
Pod teretom vode i bunara suviše nijemih
Pod elementima lišenim prevoda
Jedan plamen sa vrhova prstiju
Što jednom je dotakao teško zakljucano srce
U visini da spali sva neba
U elementima lišenim prevoda
Jedan kamen bacen u kolijevku
Ljulja embrion što place za utrobom
Kao krilo bez djeteta što ipak žudi za letom
U elemntima lišenim prevoda
Jedan dah potpisanim okeanskim vjetrom
Što bezimeno urezuje kapije otvorenih kaveza
Rvajuci se sa zabranjenim jezikom
U elemntima lišenim prevoda
Ovo je moja tišina sa ukusom 'nikad'
Dajem je samo tebi
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing (Nafaka)
In which the fullness of being stands
I settle illusions withing
For the sake of evil omens
Not to bloom in spring
Nothing in which I push the questions
In which I settle the answers
For the sake of sense
Not to die out by autumn
Nothing
In which I pour the whiteness
In which I settle the freezing
For the waiting not to melt down at winter
Nothing
In which the sunshine bathes
In which I settle the light
Not to burn myself in summer heat
NISTA u koje staje punoca bica
u njoj nastanjujem privid
uroka radi da se ne prozli
proljecem
nista u koje sazimam pitanja
u njima nastanjujem odgovor
smisla radi da s jeseni
ne uvene
nista u koje sipam bjelinu
u njoj nastanjujem promrzlost
u zimama cekanja da se ne istopi
pahulja
nista u kojem se preliva sunce
u njemu nastanjujem svjetlost
vrelinom ljeta da se ne sprzim
JA
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How to interpret the distance between two smiles/Kako protumaciti razmak izmedju dva osmjeha
It should be interpreted as an attempt to reconcile a plus and a minus, black and white, the poor and the rich. Like tranquility between two joys in which the first one calls the second one using the bridge of the unsaid. Some people go so far as to interpret the distance between two smiles through tears, blood or simply an inexpressible sorrow. Some interpret it as a way to preserve both smiles. The length of a smile is of no importance. It does not make any difference whether a smile is 2mm or 2 light years long, there's always a space which can contain the possibility of coming closer or distancing. Smileness in each case is a precondition for any kind of approaching.
Or it may end up in a Pavlov's reflex that does not reflect anything. And what is a smile at all? There are different ways to determine this and each one of them slips any kind of definition.
Chronologically speaking a smile is a living time it takes to put the corners of our lips upwards to get in the first touch with the other being. According to its purpose it carries the burdens of goals just like bags full of hours spent in waiting for a smile from the other side of a bridge. A smile can be a means to an end, an instrument of compulsion that we sometimes use for practice in the morning after we've washed our face and brushed our teeth for it's time to get out, leave ourselves and devote time to the others that standing in front of their mirrors disinfect their own smileness.
It's something like a business smile which if we practice it to the point of perfection can make us rich.
A smile can carry anything from a living quiver of love to a complete frozenness. There are many things that can get frozen on our lips. The problem arises when it is us who gets frozen on them.
Treba tumaciti kao pokusaj izmirivanja plusa i minusa, crnog i bijelog, siromasnog i bogatog. Kao smiraj izmedju dvije radosti u kojoj prva doziva drugu mostom precutanog. Neki odlaze toliko daleko da razmak izmedju dva osmjeha tumace suzama, krvlju ili prosto neiskazljivom tugom. Neki kao pokusaj ocuvanja oba osmjeha.
Duzina razmaka pri tom ne igra nikakvu ulogu, svejedno dali su u pitanju dva milimetra ili dvije svetlosne godine razmaknutost ostaje prostor u koji staje mogucnost priblizavanja i udaljavanja. Osmjehnutost u svakom slucaju predstavlja uslov za bilo kakvo primicanje.
Ili se zavrsava kobnim Pavlovljevim refleksom koji ne reflektuje ama bas nista. I sta je uopste osmjeh. Postoje razliciti kriterijumi po kome moze da se odredi i svaki od njih sasvim sigurno izmice bilo kakvoj odredljivosti.
Po hronoloskom kriterijumu osmjeh predstavlja zivo vrijeme u kome se odvija laganim izvijanjem usana na gore prvi dodir sa drugim. U odnosu na svrhu on nosi terete cilja kao vrece pune sati u kojima zeljno iscekujemo osmjeh sa druge strane mosta. Osmjeh je sredstvao, instrument prinude koji ponekad poslovno uvjezbavamo izjutra ispred ogledala nakon umivanja i pranja zuba jer je kada izadjemo vrijeme da napustimo sebe i posvetimo se drugom koji takodje tu ispred ogledala dezinfikuje sopstvenu osmjehnutost.
To je nesto kao business smile koji ako se dotjera do savrsenstva moze donijeti veliko bogatstvo. Jedan osmjeh moze da nosi sve, ama bas sve od zivog treptaja ljubavi do potpune ukocenosti. Postoji veliki broj stvari koji moze da se zaledi na nasim usnama. Problem nastaje kada se na sopstvenim usnama jednom ukocimo mi sami.
A Little School of Interpretation, …in x lessons,2007.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain Song
I dont think about us much anymore
Frankly, the topic has become a bore
And you dont come up much in my conversation
I dont think about you on vacation
But when it rains
When it rains
When it rains
Thats when I remember
Thats when I remember
I remember you
I remember you
I dont think about you when Im sleeping
It doesnt even cross my dreamlike mind
I dont think I see your face through the curtains
Hell, I dont even miss you half the time
But when it rains
When it rains
When it rains
Thats when I remember
Thats when I remember
I remember you
I remember you
Im doing fine as long as you stay locked up
Inside a cloud of grey
Rain, rain
Rain, rain, rain
Rain, rain, rain
But when it rains
When it rains
When it rains
But when it rains
When it rains
When it rains
Thats when I remember
Thats when I remember
I remember you
I remember you
Well thats when I remember
The only time I remember
When I remember you
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rain Song
I don't think about us much anymore
Frankly, the topic has become a bore
And you don't come up much in my conversation
I don't think about you on vacation
But when it rains
When it rains, when it rains
That's when I remember
That's when I remember,
I remember you,I remember you
I don't think about you when I'm sleeping
It doesn't even cross my dreamlike mind
I don't think I see your face through the curtains
Hell, I don't even miss you half the time
But when it rains
When it rains, when it rains
That's when I remember
That's when I remember
I remember you,I remember you
Rain, rain, go away
I'm doing fine as long as you stayed locked up
Inside a cloud of grey
Rain, rain, rain...
But when it rains
When it rains, when it rains
That's when i remember
That's when I remember
I remember you, I remember you
Well, That's when I remember you
The only time I remember
When I remember you
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everytime It Rains
I see dark clouds out my window
I know the storm is coming any minute
And the thunder just confirms my fears
And I know the tears are in there
Ill be crying unable to stop
Look here comes the very first drop
cause every time it rains
I fall to pieces
So many memories the rain releases
I feel you... I taste you
I cannot forget
Every time it rains... I get wet
Darling I am still in love with you
As time passes by it just intensifies
I know Ill never be with you again
Ill never find another with that kindness in his eyes
Ill be trying unable to stop
Look here comes the very first drop
cause every time it rains
I fall to pieces
So many memories the rain releases
I feel you... I taste you
I cannot forget
Every time it rains... I get wet
On sunny days Im all right
I walk in the light
And I try not to think about
The love I live without
But every time it rains
I fall to pieces
So many memories the rain releases
I feel you... I taste you
I cannot forget
Every time it rains... I get wet
cause every time it rains
I fall to pieces
So many memories the rain releases
I feel you... I taste you
I cannot forget
Every time it rains... I get wet
cause every time it rains
I fall to pieces
So many memories the rain releases
I feel you... I taste you
I cannot forget
Every time it rains... I get wet
song performed by by Ace Of Base
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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