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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Related quotes
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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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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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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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
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A descendant of fire
what became first - fire or ash
'you'll melt like a candle in a little pool of wax
a face sealed by the spirit of wax
you'll burn like thoughts on a bonfire of words
for you are the fire that burns itself'
an arsonist said with wax in his eyes
'in a homeless whisper you're a broken flamelet
in the time of fire that swallows itself'
but a particle of ash is a fire descendant
and to burn is its wisdom
šta je prvo nastalo - vatra ili pepeo
'istopiceš se ko svijeca u barici voska
duhom voska zapecacen lik
goreceš ko misli na lomaci rijeci
jer ti si vatra koja samu sebe prži
rece mi palikuca sa voskom u ocima
'u bezdomnom šapatu spaljeni žižak
u vremenu vatre koja samu sebe guta'
ali cestica pepela potomak je vatre
i da gori njena je mudrost
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
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With Each Quiver Of The Heart
The space of silence
Word limited cage for an inch
The limits I push
Away from my own limits
Born a poetess
I knew nothing
A cunning stealer of whispers
I did not choose
I swear with the silence
In thousands of languages pronounced
In thousands of languages translated
In thousands of languages silent
Sa svakim treptajem srca
Prostor tišine
Riječ ju omeđ en kavez za pedalj
Granice guram
Daleko od svoje omeđ enosti
Ko pjesnikinja rođ ena
Prevejana kradljivica šapata
Birala nisam
Kunem se tišinom
Na hiljadama jezika izgovorenom
Na hiljadama jezika prevodjenom
Na hiljadama jezik preć utanom
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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And that the thought was just another day/I da je misao bila još samo jedan dan
And that the thought was just another day
No one has said as yet
An unsaid one that cracks with the boughs
Still being dawned for a day to be
I knew for
The outbreak slippery among the fingers
Pours down the beads of sunbeams through the clouds
No one has said as yet
The sides of the world folded on a sheet of paper
An origami of unspreadedness
Unwritten hours sealed in emptiness
On the first geometry class where we will learn
We're perhaps a square with headless points
Marked ABCD
In an alphabet of beheaded words
No one has said as yet no one has dared
The distant counting of Euclid's vows
Xenon's accounts and Pythagoras' secrets
Hung around the neck of a bird
That due to gold of knowledge cannot fly
No one has shaped as yet
A mathematical axiom at the top part of an operational table
Edged by formulae algorhithms
By which Reason the mother of order
Protectively hides the chaos of the possible
We'll be silent about the tents
Under which we've hidden security particles
Precious dust of knowledge in the urn light we'll store
We'll be silent about the warm blankets of thoughts
Covering dreams in an early morning
The marbles of small deceptions the spherical many colouring
We could be stolen them all
And to stand like nothing facing the loveless world
Only Love can do
Who we've never been enough
I da je misao bila još samo jedan dan
Niko rekao nije
Nedorečen što s granjem puca
A za riječ osvanut znala sam jer
Svanuće klizavo medj prstima
Brojanice sunčevih zraka kroz oblake sipa
Niko nije rekao
Na listu papira presavijene stranice svijta
Origami neotklopljenosti
Neispisivanjem sati zapečaćen u prazno
Na prvom času geometrije gdje saznaćemo
Da možda smo samo naučen kvadrat obezglavljenih tjemena
Obilježenih ABVG
Azbukom odrubljene riječi
Niko nije rekao niko nije smio
Daleka prebrojavanja Euklidovih zavjeta
Zenonovih računa Pitagorinih tajni
O vrat ptice obješenih
Što od zlata znanja otežala ne može da leti
Niko nije oblikovao
Matematički aksiom na vrhu operacionog stola
Oivičen formulama algoritmima
Kojim Razum majka reda vješto prikriva
Haos mogućeg
Prećutaćemo šatore pod kojim
Skrili smo truni sigurnosti
Dragocjeni prah saznanja u urnu laku pohraniti
Prećutaćemo toplu ćebad misli
U rano jutro snom pokriveni
Klikere sitnih obmana male šarene sferičnosti
Sve bi mogli nam ukrasti
A stajati k'o ništa spram svijeta bez ljubavi
Može samo Ljubav
Koja nikad dovoljno nismo
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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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
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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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Markedness/Obiljezenost
who marked the beginning
in eyes marking the end
look at the face that changes
in uncertain stages of an eaten up Moon
each beam is a trace possible
marking its edges the flights and the falls
ko je obiljezio pocetak
u ocima sto biljeze kraj
pogledaj lice koje se mijenja
u nesigurnim fazama iyjedenog Mjeseca
svaka zraka je trag moguc
sto biljezi svoje ivice let i pad
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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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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That Had Them/Sto Imalo Ih Je
...that they had
the nightmares that had them
and the time they had that had them
with a little practical first aid kit
in case the world ends the way it's been
at least yearly anounced
sometime from March to December
and almost imperceptibly that they had
the goals the dreams that had them
as well as the time that had them
they had? like a never made of always
most of all they knew
that they were known by things they never knew
with a will of a throne it red carpet like walked them
from dire to straights only blood
they had in the dropp recorded they were
in a biometrical test that had them
tested on the meaning of the cells immemorial
they had blood? like a clock an hour hidden by their brother
for being an eternal possession of naming
the names they had that had them
covenantly uttered amidts the language made of light
the light they had a sight amidst the blindness
that had them for being had amidst the darkness
twilightly with the hands unembraced sand and a candle of fear
what they shiverred with shivered them summoned by the wind to sway
for the wind it was the last singing that sang them
amidst singing the last swaying that swayed them sleepless
the dream they had? that had them dreamt fate vowed stricken
never awake for awake a new different possession had them
the gap overstepped by waiting the pit of knowledge eye apples
off the knowlede of good and evil they watched
that watched them without blinking carefully
the result of the reason tainted by memory
with too much possession at the eye bottom ti watch
the same old passion with which poetry
builds the world and destroys the worlds a stone to stone
omen and glimmer
...koji imali su
što imali su da imalo ih je
noćne more što imale si ih
i vrijeme imali što imalo ih je
sa malim praktičnim setom za hitnu pomoć
u slučaju da svijeta okonča kako se bar jednom godišnje
negdje od marta do decembra uvijek najavljuje
i sasvim neznatno što imali su
ciljeve snove što imali su ih
a i vrijeme što imalo ih je
imali su? kao jednog nikad od uvijek
a ponajviše što znali su
da znalo ih je i što znali nisu
sa voljom od prijestola crveno tepihno hodalo ih je
od nemila do nedraga samo krv
što imali su je kapljom zabilježeni
biometrijskim testom što imao ih je
za provjeru značenja ćelija od vajkada
imali su krv? kao jednu od brata uru skriven sat
za bivanje vječnim posjedom imenovanja
imena su imali što imala su ih
zavjetno izgovorena sred jezika od svjetla
svjetlo imali su vidjelo sred sljepila
što imali ih je za imalo se sred mraka
primračno rukama odgrljen pijesak i žižak od straha
što drhtali su drhtalo ih je vjetrom prizvano da se njiše
jer vjetar to posljednje pjevanje bješe što pjevalo ih je
sred pjevanja posljednje njihanje što njihalo ih je bez sna
san imali su? što imao ih je za snivati snom sudbom zakletom
nebudjen jer budjen drugačiji novi za posjed imao ih je
čekanjem premošćen jaz jame znanja jabučice očne
s poznanja dobra i zla gledali su
što gledalo ih je netremice bez treptaja pomno
ishod razuma pomućenog sjećanjem
s previše posjeda u dnu oka za gledanje
jedne iste strasti kojom poezija
svijet gradi svjetove ruši od kamena kamenu
spomen i sjaj
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I quote the mornings/Citiram jutra
I quote the mornings and awakening
And a sunbeam exploding in a treetop
I quote an old hope between my lips
And the fall of the sun down the abysses of the twilight
I quote the fire that cannot be extinct
In the torches of a cave-like current
The mark of the light on the palm of my hand
And the ashes of my future
I quote the passion of an eye
Destructive and horrifying
Fearing eyesight
I quote the alphabet that goes beyond words
Inexpressibility of every alpha and beta
Gamma and delta
I quote a life
And within my bosom I quote a fear
That everything will remain just a quotation
Citiram jutra i budjenje
I zrak sunca raspuknut u krošnji
Citiram nadu ostarjelu medju prstima
I pad sunca u sunovrate sumraka
Citiram vatru neugasivu
U bakljama pecinskog toka
I trag svjetlosti na dlanu
I pepeo svoje buducnosti
Citiram strast oka razornu i strašnu
Pred kojom strepi pogled
Citiram azbuku koja nadilazi rijeci
Neizrecivost svakog alfa i beta
Gama i delta
Citiram život i u njedrima ko guju gajim strah
Da ce sve ostati u citatnosti
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A bullet proof thought/Misao otporna na metak
A bullet proof thought
Pushed away determines the edges of a goal
A life style built on the margins of its own lie
Hardly overcoming a life form
Like a deadly foe always ready to shoot
Sworn by dawn and its own branch of the sun
To settle it on a thin beam of breathing
You asked me where one should go
I the daughter of a sorry
I am carried towards her own edges
Where each goal is to disappear into the clouds
And sing new skies in an armful of white
I dwell within the kiss of the paths
In a street made up of one name only
Pushed down the number thirty five
On the threshold of all the houses a doormat of a dwelling
Knocking with its heart on its own door
And my eyes fall down my own windows
Down to a mad world
That's become less painful
Since the moment I stopped looking for
Miraculous meanings of words
Grown within time and layers of the uttered
Now I first give them to the birds
If they don't eat I don't eat eaither
That's where I'm going
What about you
Misao otporna na metak
Skrajnuta odreduje ivice cilja
Životni stil izgraden na marginama sopstvene laži
Tesko preboljeva životnu formu
Ko smrtnog neprijatelja uvijek spremnog na pucanj
Zakletog svitanjem sopstveni ogranak sunca
Da ugnijezdi na tankoj zraci disanja
Pitala si me kuda
Ja kci jednog žao mi je
Nošena na sopstvene rubove
Gdje svaki cilj je nestati oblakom
Narucjem bjeline ispjevati nova neba
Stanujem u poljupcu staza
U ulici sazdanog od samo jednog imena
Gurnutog s broja trideset i pet
Na pragu svih kuca otirac stanovanja
Što srcem kuca na sopstvena vrata
A oci mi padaju niz sopstvene prozore
Dolje na sludjeni svijet
Što postaje manje bolan otkad ne tražim
Cudotvorna znacenja rijeci
Uraslih u vrijeme i slojeve recenog
Sad ih prvo dam pticama
Ako ih ne jedu necu ni ja
Eto tuda idem
A ti
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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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San O Letu
da on je znao ko mu je tkao
ko mu je tkao carobni sag
on nikad ne bi ni njemu ni sebi
stopalom ljudskim sazido prag
da sunce je znalo sve tajne kobi
sve tajne jednog suncanog sata
reklo bi ne kupi mrve zivota
hajde razuzdaj krilatog ata
da on je htio sna biti dio
on ne bi pio s otrovom svijet
vjecno bi snio vjecno bi snio
da zauvujek bude sa pticom let
1994.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O tebi
O tebi ne govorim ljudima jer shvatili ne bi
O tebi govorim
Tek listu kad lomno padne na tlo
Sumraku kad te razlije u boje
I rubu ponornog sjećanja mog
Tek tmini kada progovori glasno
Suzu prolomljenu u dnu crnog oka
Što kanuti neće nikad
Tek vratima odškrinutim i odjeku koraka
Zalutalim pragovima što kuće svoje traže
Otkucaju srca i posljednjom mrežom
Zahvaćenu vodu što kroz konope
Nazad u izvor lije
O tebi ljepoto moja
Ne govorim ni tebi
Jer čak ni ti shvatio ne bi
Da s površine riječi ništa se ne kreće
I ništa u dubine vratiti se neće
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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