Identity Crisis/Kriza identiteta
Sometimes I am what I am not, so what?
Ponekad sam I ono sto nisam, pa sta?
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Illiterate/Nepismeni
sometimes the illetrate are the best readers of hearts
ponekad su nepismeni najbolji citaci srca
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Edges/Rubovi
sometimes you think the edges are
the edges of a flight
sometimes you think the edges are
the edges of a fall
but you cannot know that
unless you take off
ponekad mislis da rubovi su
rubovi leta
ponekad mislis da rubovi su
rubovi pada
ali ne mozes znati
ako se ne otisnes
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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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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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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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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Men/Muskarci
Men are like mine field I get killed each time.
Muskarci su kao minsko polje svaki put poginem.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Language/Jezik
Is like a bad detective always a way behind a good criminal.
Jezik je kao los detektiv uvijek u zaostatku za dobrim kriminalcem.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Dream extreme fantasy
Dare a say a ride
Dream extreme virtual waves
Windswept on so high a tide
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Contemporary knowledge
Contemporary knowledge is perfectly categorized in drawers.
Savremeno znanje je savrseno kategorizovano u ladicama.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Plato
Who built in Plato into contemporary caves?
Ko je ugradio Platona u savremene pecine?
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A global aphorism extended
An anti tie truth is a white collar lie
And I collect spit in my eye
©Miroslava Odalovic&Harry Principle
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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U what
United Nations successfully nationize their unions.
Ujedinjene Nacije uspjesno nacionisu svoje unije.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Sing/Pjevaj
Sing life to your restlessness.
Pjevaj zivot svom nemiru.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Pollyteaparty
When Polly puts the wrong kettles on
All guests are easily dead and gone.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Measuring/Premjeravanja
The length of the word ‘hand’ depends on the circumference of the slap.
Duzina rijeci ‘ruka’ zavisi od opsega samara.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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My cellars were closed
The doors shut wept
No name on
My secret kept
Seep below a frozen ground
Stood silent like lips
Making no sound
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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If you want...
If you want a human to disappear
Plant an ape into an evolution tree
Ako hocete da zatrete covjeka
Posadite majmuna u drvo evolucije
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Harlekyn time
Will in due time mime an empty wordless semiotic sign.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Fotografija
fotografija
boze,
sta da napisem o tome.
to volim da radim,
ponekad od toga zivim.
kad u to gledam:
ponekad sam tuzan,
ponekad sam srecan.
drago lice
vidim kao da je tu.
ruzno,
okrenem, izbrisem
i kao da nije bilo tu.
to je magija
koja vjecno traje.
boze,
samo je vazno da znam
sta ne mogu slikati.
BEOGRAD,
19.08.2011
5.35 PM
poem by Jankovic Zoran
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Flesh given
Flesh given body driven
Worn out torn reborn
Bone sinking
Cluttering thinking
Clutched and strained
Endlessly clay refrained
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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