Vatra I Sutra
u šaci strepnje istine gore
suza vremena u njoj tiho gine
s kapija uskih razum i stid zbore
u naručju tihom da se lako vine
vatra i sutra riječ i vrijeme
i umrlog konja tihi sap
mraz i jutra plameno sjeme
i promrzlog dodira kap
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Moja Jutra
Moja jutra su jutra
Jutra moga sutra
Tu svićem tu zanoćim
Ponoćno dišem
Tešku tminu raznosim
Zvijezdama je brišem
Moja jutra su jutra
Jutra moga sutra
Tu svjetlošću puta
Hranim sive gladi
Stojim nesvrgnuta
Gdje riječ mi se gradi
Moja su jutra
Jutra moga sutra
Bjelinomispisuju
Noći tihe magle
Plavim ispisuju
Što ruke su takle
Teret jedne strasti
U osvitu pjene
Jutrom ću potkrasti
Sopstvene zjene
Da svako bijelo prividom gine
Zlatom se optoči i suncem sine
U znak moga jutra
U jutro moga sutra
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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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
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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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A liitle smile/Mali osmjeh
a little smile
a little cry
i want to stay with a ray
for it seems to understand
the meaning of a sunbeam
against the sky that slowly virms
the last of ages the fourth of times
that cracks like fire and soul
and burns itself in a language
that never goes beyond
the microeconomic terms of contract
for an ill hailed host
paragraph sealed
mala suza mali osmjeh
ja zelim da ostanem sa zrakom
jer izgleda ona razumije
zna; enje zrake sunca
spram neba sto polako virmuje
posljednje doba cetvrto vrijeme
sto puca ko vatra i dusa
i samo sebe sagorijeva u jednom jeziku
[to nikada ne ide preko
malodomacinskih tacaka ugovora
za zlom oslovljenig domacina
u paragrafu zapecacenom
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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There They Sail Silently Sail/Tiho Brode Tiho Brode
Censured song offs of the paper ships
Cut into the masts like shadows
In a scissor cut the word has been cut
One word which called many names
With paper notes among two fingers
Windy mornings were spread
The wind knows what has been written
The paper ships knew nothing
Except to sail
To silently sail
Tiho brode tiho brode
Cenzurisano otpjevi papirnih brodova
U jedra izrezani ko sjene
Rezom makaza otkinuta
Jedna riječ je dozivala mnoga imena
Prstohvatom ceduljica
Posuta jutra vjetrovita
Vjetar zna šta je na njima pisalo
Papirni brodovi nisu znali ništa
Sem da brode
Sem da tiho brode
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Fire forever (Nafaka)
the rings of fire I’ll throw into the sky
let the twilight burn let it burn the night
the fires of souls down the river flow
fire and yesterday fire and tomorrow
fire forever
the thought of fire I’ll burn under my fingers
let the breath into the chains into the chains
let there be a fire
let there be a darkness
the morning in chains let it burn
hundreds of bracelets decorate the hands
what you can hear is the sound of their ashes
let them butn the touches into the dust
big fires upon the horizon
the fire of dawn
the fire of twilight
the fire of midnight
fire forever
and just two tiny earings of pain
on the ears to remain like little flames
cracking listening
for everything to go away
within a red memory
fire forever
and two tiny earings of pain
beyond a dusty curse in eternity to meet
let them burn in touch let them burn in passion
for everything broken in suffering to go away
fire forever
vatra zauvijek
prstenja od vatre u nebesa bacicu
da gori sumrak da gori noc
pozari dusa niz velike rijeke neka poteku
vatra i juce vatra i danas vatra i sutra
vatra zauvijek
pod prstima sprzicu misao vatre
u lance u lance neka ide dah
neka bude pozar
neka bude mrak
neka sagori u okovima jutro
narukvica sto neka kiti ruke
to sto zvecka pepeo je njihov
zvukom da sagore dodiri do praha
pozari veliki na horizontu
pozar svitanja pozar sumraka pozar ponoci
vatra zauvijek
i dvije male mindjuse od bola
na usima neka ostanu ko plamicak
od svjetla neka se sastavi
slusanje pucketanje
da nestane sve u crvenom sjecanju
vatra zauvijek
i dvije male mindjuse od bola
nad urokom od praha neka se sastave u vjecnost
dodirom neka sagore strascu da se sprze
da nestane sve patnjom satrveno
vatra zauvijek
velika vatra prociscenja
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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I do not know what the bird is thinking/Ja ne znam sta ptica mni
I do not know what a bird is thinking
Into the hints-I know the edges-a walk and a step
And a flight pushed away against the sky
A waterfall of ink pushed down into a word
I'm writing a cloud blue beyond the lead of a letter
Tense it stands a naked with a sign a hand of dark
Pushed further by the wind the thirst dies from air
It satiates itself and it hurts a raindrop
The truth of its flight is the truth of today
But the truth of today is not the same tomorrow
Ja ne znam šta jedna ptica mni
U slutnje-ivice poznam-gaz i korak
Spram neba rukom odgurnut let
Vodopad mastila srucenog u rijec
Pišem oblak plavo nad olovnim slovom
Sapet stoji golo znakom rukom tmine
Vjetrom guran dalje žedj vazduhom gine
Samu sebe toli kaplju kiše boli
Istina joj leta istina od danas
Al istina od danas nije ista sutra
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Last night
Last night I asked the drop
what nobody had dared to ask before
I said
come on, isn't it time you washed my face
isn't it time you stopped falling in tears
isn't it time for me to drink you
isn't it time for you to touch me
isn't it time for me to see the world within you
come on, what are you waiting for
why don't you finally fall down
that was the rage of a dead chicken
Sinoc sam rekla kaplji
sto joj niko ranije nije smio reci
rekla sam
hajde, nije li vrijeme da me umijes
nije li vrijeme da suzom prestanes
nije li vrijeme da te popijem
nije li vrijeme da dotaknes
nije li vrijeme da u tebi sagledam svijet
hajde sta cekas
zasto vec jednom prosto ne kanes
bio je to bijes mrtvog pileta
Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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the winged space beyond the possibility of standing (Nafaka)
turning the clock back into endlessness
I will say nothing in a silent whisper
The time over bridged from now to duration
The steps follow to the point of no return
I will say nothing with an encircled verse
prostor raskriljen nad mogucnoscu stajanja
u nepovrat vraticu sate
govoricu nista u sapatu tihom
vrijeme premosceno od sada do trajanja
u nepovrat stope prate
govoricu nista zaokruzenim stihom
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Raspuce
Zaiskriš li pod tišinom
Vatrom tihom gaziš svijet
Prodišeš li ko pod tminom
Pod njom čekaš neboplet
Prosijaš li zrncem sjaja
Sjajem isti zove put
Završiš li put do kraja
Nebu tihom nađeš skut
Očešljaš li žuta klasja
Ko u miru plave kose
Tad misao put obasja
I same te oči nose
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Ti imaš svoja srca Marijo
Ona kucaju preko lanaca od straha
Kucaju tiho kucaju glasno
Ona kucaju preko života do praha
Kucaju neč ujno kucaju jasno
Ti imaš svoja srca Marijo
Ona se proljeć em otvaraju ko cvijet
Cvjetaju tiho preko vode polja
Ona se ruše i grade ko svijet
Što spašen reč e tvoja sam volja
Ti imaš svoja srca Marijo
Ona tiho gasnu ko svijeć e nad grobom
Sumrakom ranim na vjetru od riječ i
I tiho se bude pod skutom sa tobom
Melemom ljubavi srce da se liječ i
Ti imaš svoja srca Marijo
Kucaju nevino u kolijevci od krvi
Smrti se ne daju a humkom zidana
Da svjetlost vide kad dan im prvi
Ozari srca rukom tvojom vidana
Ti imaš svoja srca Marijo
Ona kucaju preko lanaca od straha
Kucaju tiho kucaju glasno
Ona kucaju preko života do praha
Kucaju neč ujno kucaju jasno
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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Nemušt
Tajno tamna sunčano bilo
Do tkanja tvoga nesvita i zore
Sa zova do mira dola i gore
Pozovi me sebi nemušta silo
Sasni me suncem usnom i snom
Ne gasni zorom nemuštim zborom
Sasni me igrom i novim zovom
U bujici vrtlogu bezdanom
Sutra mi strasti raspni na dah
Nek dišem između pepela i bola
I nikad riječi ne tvori u prah
Da ne umre jezik gore i dola
Tajno tamna sunčano bilo
Do tkanja tvoga nesvita i zore
Sa zova do mira dola i gore
Pozovi me sebi nemušta silo
1997.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Peace Proposal
Said General Clay to General Gore really must we fight this silly war
To kill and die in such a bore I quite agree said General Gore
Said General Gore to General Clay we could go to the beach today
And have some icecream on the way a grand idea said General Clay
Said General Clay to General Gore we'll build sand castles on the shore
Said General Gore we'll splash and play let's leave right now said General Clay
Said General Gore to General Clay but what if the sea's closed today
And what if the sand's been blown away the dreadful thought said General Clay
Said General Gore to General Clay I've always feared the ocean's spray
And we may drown it's true we may it chills my blood said General Clay
Said General Clay to General Gore my bathin' suit is slightly tore
We better go on with our war I quite agree said General Gore
The General Clay chanrged General Gore as bullets flew and cannons roared
And now at last there is no more of General Clay or General Gore
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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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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Mišlju Nedorecen
Mišlju nedorecen gradiš joj san
Na ramenu ti znak
A oko ti trne
Mišlju nedorecen osviceš joj dan
Prag i korak lak
U vec pune urne
Sipaš vrijeme od praha sat
Otkucaj kradeš vjecnosti tat
Sipaš vrijeme o ludog li sna
Ponoc kuca otkucaj je zna
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Generals
Said General Clay to General Gore,
'Oh must we fight this silly war?
To kill and die is such a bore.'
'I quite agree,' said General Gore.
Said General Gore to General Clay,
'We could go to the beach today
And have some ice cream on the way.'
'A grand idea,' said General Clay.
Said General Gore to General Clay,
'But what if the sea is closed today?
And what if the sand's been blown away?'
'A dreadful thought,' said General Clay.
Said General Gore to General Clay,
'I've always feared the ocean's spray,
And we may drown!' 'It's true, we may.
It chills my blood,' said General Clay.
Said General Clay to General Gore,
'My bathing suit is slightly tore.
We'd better go on with our war.'
'I quite agree,' said General Gore.
Then General Clay charged General Gore
As bullets flew and cannons roared.
And now, alas! there is no more
Of General Clay or General Gore.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Kraj Istera poj
U plavoj kući vrtova kobi
Pčela je pronašla cvijet
Da tiho zgasne u zloj dobi
Kad žaokom probode svijet
U bijeloj kući vrtova smrti
Ptica je pronašla let
Da žilom krvi život zavrti
Krilima dotakne svijet
U zelenoj kući proljeća znak
Obujmi ulujni oblak tmast
Morana pruži svoj grozni krak
I zgasnu stari zapis hrast
Trinaest tmina kraj njega prođe
Šapatom sedmim uginu let
I treće jutro medonosno dodje
Da žaokom probode svijet
I ono nad Isterom nebo plavo živo
Gdje takoh se skuta njegovoga
Gdje plakah hristočežnjivo
Toplo je toplo u naručju Boga
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Svitanje vjencava bat sanjanih koraka
svitanje vjenčava bat sanjanih koraka
sa tminom što dobuje tiho kraj uha
ono stapa svjetlost i vrelinu mraka
i šapat tad postaje naušnica sluha
i ruke tad postaju šareni leptiri
sa bjeline jastuka tiho budjeni
prste pomijeraju duboki nemiri
svakom znani dati svakome suđeni
nekom se kapci teški otvaraju
zjena misli pogled samo nemir biva
a u dnu sveg vida tmine se odmaraju
i u dnu sveg nemira tišina sniva
1995-2012
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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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
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