Moje Ruke
moje ruke ćute
tvoje ruke govore
moje usne stežu riječi
tvoje ruke grče ćutnju
moje oči sklap i znak
tvoje ruke dlan i mrak
moje tijelo kaže
sviće dan
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Moje misli tvoje misli
Isprepletene
Moje tvoje misli
Nedorečene
Moje tvoje misli
Samo puke sjene
Misle svoje misli
Bez tebe i mene
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The world is eaten away on my lips (Nafaka)
Through the cracks of speech
I’ll shoot at the sky
Some limits can take some rest beyond
I’ll sheaf my hair
I’ll cross my arms
And whisper
Here I am
MOJE USNE RASTACU SVIJET
U PUKOTINAMA GOVORA
PROSTRIJELICU NEBO
DA SE NA NJEMU ODMORE GRANICE
KOSU VEZACU U SNOPOVE
RUKE PREKRSITI
I SAPUTATI
TU SAM
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
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The Face Of Pain/Lice Bola
Your face made of а flower
Leaning on a fragile petal
It’s calling in a voice of solitude
The root thirst for shining
Your breathing in faded leaves
Trodden broken
Mere branches of breath
You’re floating with the clouds
Like a pain buried below deception
Your hands in twilight
A shattered embrace
A deflowered touch
Your cheek
A scar
Tvoje lice od cvijeta
Na krhku peteljku oslonjeno
Zove glasom osame
Korijen žedan sjaja
Tvoje disanje u svelom lišć u
Ogaženo lomljivo
Tek granč ica daha
Plutala si oblakom
Ko bol sahranjen pod obmanom
Tvoje ruke u sumraku
Slomljen zagrljaj
Obešč ašć eni dodir
Tvoj obraz
Ožiljak
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The first drop-Prva kap
the first dropp will touch your lips
the first break of dawn will touch your brow
the first open arms will call you into an embrace
the first open eyelids will open up my windows
letting the day come in
prva kap pašće na tvoje usne
prvi zrak svitanja dotaći ti čelo
prvo otvaranje oka pozvaće te u zagrljaj
prvo otvaranje kapaka otvroiće moje prozore
da unutra uđe dan
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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You are an inner sense/Ti si unutrasnje culo
You are an inner sense
that makes everything else disappear
the sign written upon my brow
cannot be placed under fingertips
the touches killed will grow again
in spring out of ground
the fruits of death picked up
dropp the living wounds into young graves
so the grains can cry out your name in tears
elevated by death into heaven
like these dresses of mine lifted by storm
thrown into the clouds
like these dresses of mine by thunder
piled up in rags I am piled into a song
like these dresses of mine burned by lightening
You are a inner sense
That makes everything else disappear
A diamond cutting my dreams
A saphire for the sky to paint
A ruby with which I open the blood
The gold in which I turn the sunflower
The silver in which I throw stars into the night
You are an inner sense
That makes everything else disappear
Ti si unutrasnje culo
Od koga nestaje sve
Na celu ispisan znak
Ne moze stati pod jagodice
Ubijeni dodiri izniknuce
S proljecem iz zemlje
Ubrani plodovi smrti
U mlade gromove zive rane spusti
Da prplace grumenje ime tvoje
Smrcu u nebesa noseno
Ko halje moje olujom
U oblake bacene
Ko halje moje gromom
U pjesmu zguzvana stacu ko krpa
Ko halje moje munjom sprzene
Ti si unutrasnje culo
Od koga nestaje sve
Dijamant kojim sjecem snove
Safir kojim bojim nebo
Rubin kojim otvaram krv
Zlato u kome okrecem suncokret
Srebro kojim zvijezde bacam u noc
Ti si unutrasnje culo
Od koga nestaje sve
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
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Quote Me Not/Ne Citiraj Me
The tree I am
Sideroad’s heart
My words in leaves
They touch the ground
The river I am
A beat in veins
My words in a drop
A swallowed water
The cloud I am
A written sky
Quote me not
The night is eavesdropping
Ja sam drvo
Srce krajputaša
Moje riječ i u lišć u
Dotič u tlo
Ja sam rijeka
U venama dodir
Moje riječ i u kapi
Progutana voda
Ja sam oblak
Ispisano nebo
Ne citiraj me
Prisluškuje noć
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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My Name Is Moonlight
And these stars they are the children of my kiss
They burn the light of my hiding place
They twinkle the shine of my disappearance
My name is the path of Earth
Galaxy chosen spot of love
Fed by heaven’s milk my place of origin
Each dropp a trae of my disappearance
My name is the Sun light
A moment buried in the sundial
It runs gold arrayed time
Eternity carried a waiting away
Moje ime je Mjeseč ev sjaj
A zvjezde su ove djeca mog poljupca
Ona gore svjetlost mog skrovista
Ona sjaje mog nestanka trag
Moje ime je Zemljin put
Galaksijama birana tač ka ljubavi
Mlijekom neba hranjena postojbina moja
Svaka je kap mog nestanka trag
Moje ime je sunč eva svjetlost
U pješč anom satu zakopan tren
On teč e zlatom optoč eno vrijeme
Od č ekanja vječ nošć u nošen
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The tree I am/ Ja sam drvo
The tree I am
Sideroad’s heart
My words in leaves
They touch the ground
The river I am
A beat in veins
My words in a drop
A swallowed water
The cloud I am
A written sky
Quote me not
The night is eavesdropping
Ja sam drvo
Srce krajputaša
Moje riječ i u lišć u
Dotič u tlo
Ja sam rijeka
U venama dodir
Moje riječ i u kapi
Progutana voda
Ja sam oblak
Ispisano nebo
Ne citiraj me
Prisluškuje noć
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Boka - ulazak
moji su bili talasi stijene
struje i virovi pjevanja vode
i jedan zaliv gdje ponocne sjene
s prvim svitanjem u nepovrat hode
moji su bili tek u slutnji jednoj
mirisi šuma bešimje bilja
kraj izvora želji ostavih žednoj
da traga bez traga i cilja
zlacane niti moje su bile
sred pustih polja udahnut san
dubine mora ribe su pile
u mreže ribari krotili dan
i sve to moje iz narucja zore
pložih na pragove jutra
dodirnuh kaplju odškrinuh more
i tiho krocih unutra
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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We made them dance
This is how I made you
I took the fibres of black
Spread the twinkling of my heart
Across your body
To make the most beautiful night in the world
I spinned it round and round
Made it dance the river dance
Made it dance the morning dance
Made it dance the evening dance
I made it dance
This is how you made me
You took the fibres of red
Spread the beating of your blood
Across my body
To make the most beautiful love in the world
You spinned it round and round
Made it dance the dance of your seed
Made it dance the dance of your touch
Made it dance the dance of your breath
You made it dance
That's why
The eagle was flying
The sea was foaming
The ground was singing
Children were laughing
Fires were burning
Across the hearths
We made them dance
Ovako sam te stvorila
Uzeh tkanice crnog
I prosuh treptaje svog srca niz tvoje tijelo
Da stvorim najljepšu noc ovoga svijeta
Zavrtjeh je ukrug ukrug
Da pleše ples rijeke
Da pleše ples jutra
Da pleše ples veceri
Da pleše
Ovako si me stvorio
Uze tkanice crvenog
Prosu otkucaj svoje krvi niz moje tijelo
Da stvoriš najljepšu ljubav ovoga svijeta
Zavrtio je ukrug ukrug
Da pleše ples tvog sjemena
Da pleše ples tvog dodira
Da pleše ples tvog daha
Da pleše
I zato je
Orao letio
More se pjenilo
Zemlja je pjevala
Djeca se smijala
I vatre ognjištem gorjele
Oni su plesali zbog nas
2010. (We made them dance)
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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For The Unwritten / Za Nedopisanost
The faces the scars
The hands the writings
The words an excuse
Are
The hands the scars
The faces the writings
The words an excuse
Are
For the unwritten
Lica ožiljci
Ruke zapisi
Riječ i izgovor
Jesu
Ruke ožiljci
Lica zapisi
Riječ i izgovor
Jesu
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Kad kesten dvaput procvjeta
Oči vične čekanju u rascvaloj vodi
Uminuo privid u snazi talasa
Na dlanu mi sjever jutro mu hodi
Zvukom se u srcu praporac bjelasa
Oči vične gledanju promrzloga svijeta
Kad kesten dvaput procvjeta
Ruke vične lutanju u dozrele tmine
Pred kapijom jednom premrle od straha
Što u šaci drže usudom se vine
U planine sniježne zaleđenog daha
Ruke vične svijanju suludoga spleta
Kad kesten dvaput procvjeta
U kosu se spusti pupoljasta mrena
Gine snagom vida od dodira trena
Kose vične svijanju osijedjelog svijeta
Kad kesten dvaput procvjeta
1997.
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Tham Lo
Tham lo
Vakth ko,
Tumse
Kuch aaur bhi kahna hai.
Vakth ki raftar me
Sahme, simte se
Kuch labz,
Jo hotho pe rah gaye
Dabe dabe se
Unko bhi chahakna hai
Tham lo
Vakth ko
Rok lo
Raho ko
Tum sang
Kuch aaur duur tak jana hai
Rishto ki anban me
Jhllaye, uljhaye se
Kuch kadam
Uuthe hi nahi jo kabhi
Ruke ruke se
Unko bhi thoda chalna hai
Rok lo
Raho ko
Bandh lo
Sanso ko
Kuch dhadkano ko tumhari
Abb bhi jan na hai
Soch ki takrar se
Ghabraye, bahkaye se
Kuch pal
Tham se gaye jo
Unko bhi dhadkna hai
Bandh lo
Sanso ko
Tok do
Palko ko
Tumhari najro me
Abb bhi khud ko
Khojna hai
Dooriyo ke pardo me
Sharmaye bharmaye se
Kuch jahalak
Bevajah hi jukh gaye jo
Uunko bhi uudna hai
Tok do
Palko ko
poem by Anjali Kakati
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At Twilights Beyond The Fields / U Sutonima Iznad Polja
My shadow will reappear
Whispering for long among the spikes
Turning the pages of light
Among the sunflowers
Homelessly dream under the bridges
Outstretch the hand of a beggar
Spread the hands of a child
To make an embrace
Among the clouds with wings so light
My hair will spread
Undone in the lelek of the beginning
Entangled in the treetops
The fire lit within the ring
Will kill me in the hunger of the quest
Note: lelek (Serbian) – screams of mourning
U sutonima iznad polja
Vaskrsnuce opet moja sjen
I dugo klasjem saputati
Medj suncokretima okretati
Stranice svjetlosti
Pod mostovima beskucno sniti
Ispruziti ruke prosjaka
Rasiriti ruke djeteta
Ne bi li bio zagrljaj
Medj oblacima lakokrila
Sirice se moja kosa
Raspletena lelekom pocetka
Zapletena u krosnjama
U obrucu zapaljena vatra
Umorice me gladju traganja
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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This is not my face/Ovo nije moje lice
This is not my face
This thing oozing out of your insipid reflection theories
When you're putting it into A is A A is B B is C
You know
C is maybe a newly born naked
Syllogism pointing at a tzar
So that you can ask him ask him
‘Tzar tzar oh master tell us what's the time'
And the tzar cannot hear you for he's got a goat's ears
This is not my face
This thing you're folding after you've ironed it
And placed it among the skirts trousers and shirts
You know
A shirt is perhaps a flag of my home
Put on a post to limit the borders of pain
So that you may ask it ask it
‘Does it hurt does it hurt tell us what's the time'
And the pain cannot hear you for its ears are cut
This is not my face
This thing you're turning to see it from each side
Whenever you turn it from A to B from B to C
You know
C is perhaps just a point without a face
Thrown into the universe
A monada looking for the Father
Why don't you take your reflections home
Ovo nije moje lice
To što curi iz bljutavih teorija odraza
Kada ga sklapate u A je A, A je B, B je C
Znate
C je možda ko od majke roden
Silogizam što upire prstom u cara
Pa ga pita pa ga pita
Care care o gospodare ko'ko ima sati
A car ne cuje jer ima kozje uši
Ovo nije moje lice
To što sklapate poslije peglanja
Medu suknje pantalone i košulje
Znate
Košulja je možda zastava moga doma
Na kolac nabijena da omedi bol
Da ga pitate da ga pitate
'Boli li boli li koliko je sati'
A bol ne cuje jer su mu odsjecene uši
Ovo nije moje lice
To što okrecete da se iz svih uglova vidi
Kadgod ga okrecete od A do B od B do C
Znate C je možda
Samo tacka bez lica
Bacena u svemir
Monada što traži Oca svog
Zašto ne nosite svoje odraze kuci
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A dropp of ocean
...will never learn the hands that have swum it
unless it is taught tears to cry
kap okeana nikada nece nauciti ruke koje su ga preplivale
osim ako ga ne naucimo da place
C circle Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The River 3/Rijeka 3
the banks of the body wipe away the limits
an ancient sideroad tree ripes
the river is silent in the tribal song
an unchained thought it deems
it sings lightly in the lap of dawns
'give me those morning lips of yours
a midday kiss from an edge of a word
an evening sound of bells in a song to sing
the secret of a midnight hour'
obale tijela granice brišu
starostavno krajputaš zri
tihuje rijeka plemenskom pjesmom
nesputanu misao mni
pjevuši lako u krilu zora
'daj mi te tvoje jutarnje usne
podnevni poljubac sa ruba riječi
večernji zvon pjesmom da pjevam
tajnu ponoćnog sata'
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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