Pogledaj ruše se tvoji Partenoni
Sokrat ispi kukutu
Ucini kako treba
Glasnu se patuljak Natcovjeka
Ogledajuci se u obogaljenoj zemlji
'Petar porece Hrista
I ucini kako treba'
Glasnu se patuljak Natcovjeka
Ogledajuci se u silovanoj zemlji
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Joy
Joy needs no reason at all, sorrow looks for one?
Radosti ne treba razlog, tuga ga traži?
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pola
istine na zemlji od čovjeka tek pola
pola života tragamo za njom
drugu polovinu bježimo od nje
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let me be today (Nafaka)
Tomorrow I will die
There’s still some time to go
Let go of me today
There’s a sky I’ve got to kiss
Tomorrow I will cry
Today I’ve got to seize the day
It’ll slip away into oblivion
Today I’ve got to step out of the circle
It’s not my time to leave
To drag the soul out of the shells
I want to know everything
But this is not the day to ask
Let go of me today
I need to be one with everything
I’ll part some other day
Let go of me one more day
It’s not my time yet
I’ll die another one
NEKA ME DANAS
umrijecu sutra
ima jos vremena
Pustite me danas
moram da poljubim nebo
plakacu sutra
danas treba da uhvatim dan
skliznuce u zaborav
Danas moram da izadjem iz kruga
nije mi jos vrijeme da odem
da izvucem dusu iz skoljki
Hocu sve da znam
ali nije dan da pitam
Neka me danas
treba da se stopim
rastacu se nekog drugog dana
Pustite me jos danas
nije mi jos vrijeme
umrijecu neki drugi put
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pljuvam Skozi Okno
Pljuvam skozi okno in gledam kam pljunec leti
sonce zahaja nekje dalec' grmi vidim tvoj pogled kako v prazno brez
volje
lez'i
v dimu cigarete se tudi moj razmegli
Z'e tretji dan dez'uje in mene glava boli
si kdaj vidu kako kac'a trpi valja se v vroc'ini kjer je vedno lepo bilo
poletje brez vec'erov je kot belo zlato
song performed by by Zmelkoow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mit o postanku zla
I sotona rece:
'Neka bude laž! '
I bi laž.
Skrila se u kamenju
Pa sa visina sipa.
I sotona rece:
'Nek licemjerja bude! '
I bi licemjerje.
Skrilo se u rijecima
I ceka da progovori.
Pokrilo se paucinom
I pauke hrani.
Od samog sebe se skrilo.
I sotona rece:
'Nek otrova bude! '
I otrova bi.
Šejtani ga iz olujnog daha
Vitlajuc macem prosuli.
Nataložio se na zemlji
I njenim tokovima tece.
Skrio se u krvi.
I sotona rece:
'Da bude mržnja! '
I bi mržnja.
Prštala na sve strane
Kao krv koja ne može da se zgruša.
Šapama trigova hodala
Pa se i ona pod mahovinom
Na sjeveru lednom skrila.
I sotona rece:
'Neka bude covjek! '
I bi covjeka.
U laži i licemjerju se skrio
Otrovom ga mržnja ko mlijekom dojila.
Pirat se skrio u jedra umotan.
I bi covjeka
U zvijerima se skrio.
I sotona tece:
'Da misli da me nema! '
Ali tako ne bi
Bješe mu laž u pocetku rijeci.
Napisano 1989. rekonstruisano 2012-02-06.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I met people who did not know
How to pick up a lily
And that its skin breaks under the steel
Of a too long gaze from the mountain top
And that its petal knows nothing of its root
And that the night falls only when it lowers the buds
Thirsty of the sun and the sun's only the wolf's one
Howling at the wounds of a torn out flower
Srela sam ljude koji nisu znali
Kako se bere ljiljan
I da njegova koža puca pod celikom
Suviše dugog pogleda sa vrha planina
I da njegova peteljka ne zna njegov korijen
I da kad spusti latice tek onda padne noc
Žedna sunca a ono samo vucje
Zavija na rane pokidanog cvijeta
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lament
We like death
It’s a God given gift
Bestowed upon us
God given Mercy
We die like butterflies
Burn them easily on a fire in a sec
We die silently like plants
We die loudly
Like waterfall blood
We die in the rocks
Sagacity is one our side
For we know
That it’s just in a second
Playing the role of sense
On Earth everything can be shattered
And that we didn’t choose
That God takes ones in his arms
And lets the others testify
We are the verdict of the surviving tyrants
We are the masters of our masters
Though our graves are too narrow
In the box of their secrets
Shelter is on our side
For we know
There’s no shelter on Earth
Therefore we like death
It’s a God given gift
Bestowed upon us
God given Mercy
Therefore we die
And recognize our children
By death only
Mi volimo smrt
Ona nam je od Boga velika Milost
Veliko uzdarje
Mi ginemo ko leptiri
Tanke nogice za cas na vatri sprzimo
Ginemo tiho kao biljke
Uz huku krvi ko slap
U stijenama ginemo
Mudrost je na nasoj strani
Jer mi znamo
Da na zemlji samo tren
Igra ulogu smisla
Da Bog jedne
Pod svoje okrilje uzme
A ostali zive da svjedoce
Mi smo osuda prezivjelih tirana
Nasih smo gospodara gospodari
Iako u skrinjama njihovih tajni
Groblja su nam tijesna
Sigurnost je na nasoj strani
Jer mi znamo
Da na zemlji zaklona nema
Zato mi volimo smrt
Ona nam je od Boga veliko uzdraje
Velika Milost
Zato mi ginemo
I djecu svoju po smrti prepoznajemo
Written inn 1999.
(Dedicated to the victims of NATO bombing Serbia 1999.)
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Don’t Need A Golden Leaf/Ne Treba Ti Zlatni List
To measure the depth of an autumn heart
When stone frozen you stand
Doing all the meditations of life
In stead of just living
When stuck in those harmless concepts
You do the tender death’s task
Make sure it never comes
To remind you of life a-void
Created in a self crater
Of your thought solely self defined
Ne treba to zlatni list
Da izmjeriš jednog jesenjeg srca
Kad kameno zaledjen stojiš
Odradjujuci sve meditacije o životu
Umjesto da naprosto živis
Kad zaglavljen u onim bezazlenim konceptima
Obavljaš zadatak nježne smrti
Pobrini se da se ne vrati
Da te podsjeti na život iz-bjeg
Stvoren u krateru sopstva
Tvoje misli iskljucivo sobom odredene
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A discovery/Otkrice
From behind all the twilights and evening shadows
Under all the covers
And you who do the night rims vigils
Under all sand clocks
And far from those who chase
The windmills of their won restlessness
From behind all the silences hidden within themselves
From behind all the words hidden within themselves
That we were silent with
I took out a flame a fire of the being
It's not the doors locked by the mind
It's not by the mind
Those are not the loves plundered by a heart
Those are not the creatures dried out by the heart
It's not the heart hunt but it's with the heart
It's you and I
And she and he
Those breathings there and these breathings here
That breathe in life everywhere and forever
And they are never now
Oh if we were now how could we be
Otkrice
Iza svih sutona i vecernjih sjenki
Ispod svih pokrivaca
I vas nocobdija okorjele noci
Ispod svih pješcanih satova
I dalje od onih što ganjaju
Vjetrenjace sopstvenih nemira
Iza svih u sebi skrivenih cutanja
Iza svih u sebi skrivenih rijeci kojima smo cutali
Izvukla sam plamen
Oganj samog bice
To nisu umom zakljucana vrata
To nije umom
To nisu srcem poharane ljubavi
To nisu srcem ispijena bica
To nije lov srca no srcem je
To smo ti i ja
I ona tamo i ova ovdje disanja
Što životom dišu svugdje i zauvijek
I nikada u sada
O da smo sada kako bismo bili
1995.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That's not it-To nije to
Excuse me sir
You look like someone I've met before
And I am sure it is like that
I'm sure everyone has met everyone before
In what's called preceding lives
Do you believe in that sir
I mean those karmas
Moving along cyclic zodiacs
Made of illiterate stars
Sounds quite familiar to me
A life through trials and errors
I think sir
When I outstretch the palm of my hand
(Do not worry you don't have to give me any
Of your monthly revenue
I am not that kind of a beggar)
When I outstretch the palm of my hand
And look at those divinely entangled lines
So cryptic
That are supposed to determine my fate
I think there's got to be some mistake there
That they are not there to determine me
But to tell me that this palm belongs to me only
That I am just like you sir
A creature born once a creature divine
Unrepeatable and free
For most when I outstretch the palm of my hand
To see my own geometry of the universe
Or to turn it into a fist
To strike the face of Fortune
Then I think sir
For sure we've all met before
In the faces of Adam and Eve
Hitting their foreheads against the ground
Once they vaguely hinted the Heaven is perhaps
Nothing but a wholeness of a soul in unity with its Creator
And Hell the lack of the same thing
Yes I am sure we've met before
In the face of Christ crucified on the cross
That redeemed us through his blood
For a dream in which an Idiot
Will not have to find a compartment
In which he would, with a roomful of thoughts
In his head just like me right now,
He would not have to repeat
That's not it that's not it until he cannot
Thinking perhaps about those marbles of lifeful life
Whose glimmer fades away once they break out on the surface
To dry in the fire of their own eyes
Thinking that's not it that's not it
Meaning perhaps those insipid theories
Endlessly talked about in a leisure
Of some nice first class trains
Journey through Switzerland
Theories endlessly repeated at some nice
Comfortable places just on a pass by through life
In a conversation with an art dealer
Theories made official through some nicely polished clear expression
So clear that one could die of clarity
And nothing would be said about an idiot
Sir we look so far away
So far away from Adam that's been met before lying in our bones
The way the trains suicidely lie on the rails of expulsion
So far away from Eve and her snake
Winding like a steam of a train
Of a great invention that has perhaps only been brained out
So that an Idiot in a first class train
Travelling through Switzerland
Could keep repeating that's not it that's not it
We look so far away from them
And still keep hitting our foreheads against the ground
That's not it that's not it sir
Sorry for stopping you
What I actually wanted to ask you is
Which street we're in
And if you know what my name is
And if it's ever too late to know ourselves
(Note: Idiot, a novel by Fjodor Michailowitsch Dostojewski)
To nije to
Izvinite gospodine
Izgledate kao neko koga sam vec srela
I sigurno je tako
Sigurno smo sreli
U onome što zovu prethodnim životima
Vjerujete li vi u to
Mislim u te karme
Što se krecu po ciklicnim zodijacima
Nastalih od nepismenih zvijezda
Jedan zivot putem pokušaja i pogrešaka
Zvuci mi sasvim poznato
Mislim gospodine
To znate kada ispružim dlan
(ne brinite nista ne morate da mi date
Od svog mjesecnog prihoda
Ja nisam takva prosjakinja
Kada ispružim dlan
I pogledam sve te linije
Božanstveno isprepletene i kripticne
Koje treba da mi odrede sudbinu
Mislim da tu postoji neka greška
Da one nisu tu da me odrede
Vec da mi kažu da ovaj dlan
Pripada samo meni
Da sam kao i vi gospodine
Jednom rodena božanska
Neponovljiva i slobodna licnost
I to najviše onda kada ispružim dlan
Da vidim sopstvenu geometriju svemira
Ili kada ga stisnem u pesnicu
Ne bih li zadala udarac Fortuni
Ja mislim gospodine
Da sasvim sigurno svi smo se vec negdje sreli
U licu Adama i Eve što lupaju celom u zemlju
Kad naslutili su da raj možda nije ništa drugo
Do cjelovitost duše sa njenim Tvorcem
A pakao nedostatak iste
Da sasvim sigurno
Svi smo se vec jednom sreli
U licu Hrista raspetog na krstu
Što krvlju nas svojom uvijek iznova iskupljuje
Za san u kome jedan Idiot
Nece morati da pronadje kupe
U kom bi sa punom sobom misli
Baš kao ja sad do iznemoglosti ponavljao
To nije to to nije to
Misleci možda na rijeci klikere živog života
Što gube sjaj kada isplivaju na površinu
Da se suše u vatri sopstvenih ociju
Misleci na to nije to to nije to
Misleci možda na ucmale teorije života
Što se ispredaju dokono u finim vozovima
Prve klase u prolazu kroz Švajcarsku
I ponavljaju sve po nekim finim udobnim mjestima
U prolazu kroz život
U razgovoru sa trgovcem umjetnickih djela
Ozvanicene putem nekog finog ispoliranog jasnog izraza
Toliko jasnog da ce da se umre od razgovjetnosti
A ništa o Idiotu nece reci
Kako smo daleko gospodine
Kako smo daleko od tog Adama
Što sretosmo ga ranije u kosti nam ulego
Onako kao vozovi samoubilacki leže
Na šinama izgnanosti
Daleko od te Eve i njene zmije
Što se izvija kao para voza
Velikog izuma
Koji je možda izmozgan samo da jedan Idiot
U finom vozu prve klase na putovanju kroz Švajcarsku
Tiho ponavljao to nije to to nije to
Kako samo izgledamo daleko od njih
A i dalje lupamo celom o zemlju
To nije to to nije to gospodine
Izvinite što sam vas zaustavila
U stvari sam samo htjela da vas pitam
U kojoj sam sada ulici
Dali možda znate kako se zovem
I dali je ikada kasno da spoznamo sebe
Napomena: Idiot, roman Fjodora Mihailovica Dostojevskog
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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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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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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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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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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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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U what
United Nations successfully nationize their unions.
Ujedinjene Nacije uspjesno nacionisu svoje unije.
©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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Sing/Pjevaj
Sing life to your restlessness.
Pjevaj zivot svom nemiru.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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