Water traces-Vodeni spomenik
Like a curtain of rain
That the hand will never
Be able to move it away
Not even when the eye opens up a drop
Like pools full of thoughts
Dissolving amidst the fall
A sound of the first thunder
Removed from the cloud
With the lightning the fire in hand
The thought dying alone on the breath
Our breathing it breathes
The islands are painting the waters
The waters are painting the skies
The skies are painting out faces
Are we just- the water traces
Vodeni spomenik
Kao zavjesa od kiše
Što ruka je nikad
S prozora skloniti neće
Čak ni kada oko otvori kapi
Kao bazen prepun misli
Što se rastvara sred pada
S oblaka smaknut zvuk prvog groma
S munjom s vatrom u ruci
Hladna kiša prži mi dah
Na dahu riječ obamrla sama
Našim disanjem diše
Ostrva slikaju vode
Vode slikaju neba
Neba nam slikaju lik
Da li smo samo-vodeni spomenik?
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
The sky is a circle/Nebo je krug
nebo je krug
zatvoren za misao neba
prostora ima vise u kapi vode
kojom gasim zedj za poznanjem
od neba odbolovan san
the sky is the circle
closed for the thought of the sky
there’s more space within a waterdrop
in which I quench the thirst of knowledge
it’s a dream the sky had already got over
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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What the word has said to the lock of silence/Što rijec je rekla pramenu tišine
Should not speak in hair outgrowing the hours
Tense in a verse it's woken up at dawn
It ties it with a cloud at the sky made scales
It breathes the sound it paints a sign
It's mute it thunders swims and flies and crawls
Each quiver a lock getting close to the sky
It's shivering of a dream and reality doom
Conceived of earth set free still a slave
Što riječ je rekla pramenu tišine
Da ne zbori kosom nadrastanja sati
Sapet u stihu zorom ga budi
Vezuje oblakom na vagi od neba
On diše zvuk on slika znak
On ćuti grmi pliva leti gmiže
Svaki titraj pramena nebu sve je bliže
Drhtanje je sna a stvanosti kob
Od zemlje začet slobodan a rob
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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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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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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Od Cežnje Nabrekla Dahom Ukleta
Sopstvenu sjenku gazim
Sašivenom haljom od hiljade ljeta
Zmijom ugrižena zemljama gazim
I tu sam sasvim gdje još me ima
Gdje rijeci mi još blagoslov mole
S krajickom proljeca u snu smrtnih zima
Zraci me misli griju i još vole
U vatri gašena na lomaci slutnji
Da rijecju još je obrecena nada
U stisku neba u dnu svih slutnji
Gdje bezdano liže plamen mog pada
Od cežnje nabrekla dahom ukletim
Svom miru za jedan plamen sam bliže
Tu sam da dišem još malo da letim
Jer rijec me vatre na oltar diže
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Come in and meet my friend-Udi i upoznaj mog prijatelja
come in and meet my friend
he's got eyes of different colours
one eye is blue the other is like honey
he's got a scar somewhere beneath his heart
and the wound under the heart a bitter snake of a dream
he's got a coat and a hat on his head
the coat with two facets and the hat full of thoughts
come in and meet my friend
he knows the names of the rivers and the limits of the globe
and the salt stolen from the bottom of the sea
he knows the ribs of rocks and the whisper from the cliff
and the words hiding under the whisper
he knows all the streets all the houses at twilight
their numbers and addresses through the mother's bloodline
come in and meet my friend
he rides his thoughts like bicycles
up the hills down the slopes by the rivers and lakes
he drives his thoughts like many coloured trains
their vibrant call is layered on the rails
he leads his thoughts like caravans
so that the hot deserts don't die without water
come in and meet my friend
he loves the tramps the clowns and acrobats
the circles of fire and the walk on the wire
he loves the travellers and their suitcases
filled with memories of a step to the goal
he loves the drunkards the beggars the lost and the forgotten
who give their handful of love to the mute world
come in and meet my friend
he thinks your thoughts when you're alone
so that everyone can be there within your solitude
he thinks the thoughts of the sky when all the suns fade out
he steals a grain of gold from the sunshine ray
he thinks the thoughts of earth when the waters dry out
and feeds their springs with gratitude to the last of drops
come in and meet my friend
he'll make you a tea from a plant
that with its root kisses the edge of its bud
he'll make you a meal from its bread
whose crust survived the thunderstrike
he'll make you a bed by the window
so that you can watch the bird and its flight at twilight
come in and meet my friend
he holds his days from the first to the last
he removes the webs of hours from your sight
he holds his treasures under the pillow of light
and the light from that pillow warms your dreams
he keeps his shoes at the threshold of each entrance
so that your step never fades so that you can learn the path
come in and meet my friend
he's got eyes of different colours
one eye is blue the other is like honey
he's got a scar somewhere beneath his heart
and the wound under the heart a bitter snake of a dream
he's got a coat and a hat on his head
the coat with two facets and the hat full of thoughts
uđi i upoznaj mog prijatelja
on ima oči različitih boja
jedno oko plavo drugo kao med
on ima ožiljak nedgje ispod srca
i ranu pod ožiljkom ljutu guju sna
on ima kaput i šešir na glavi
kaput sa dva lica i šešir pun misli
uđi i upoznaj mog prijatelja
on zna imena rijeka granice globusa
i sa morskog dna ukradenu so
on zna rubove stijena šapat sa litice
i riječi što takav šapat ih krije
on zna sve ulice sve kuće u sumrak
i njihove brojeve adrese po majci
uđi i upoznaj mog prijatelja
on vozi svoje misli kao bicikl
uz brda niz padine kraj rijeka i jezera
on vozi svoje misli k'o šarene vozove
po šinama pjeva njihov zvonki zov
on vozi svoje misli kao karavane
da pustinje vrele ne umru bez vode
uđi i upoznaj mog prijatelja
on voli skitnice klovnove akrobate
vatrene obruče i hod po žici
on voli putnike i njihove kofere
prepune sjećanja na korak do cilja
on voli pijanice prosjake izgubljene zaboravljene
što pregršt svoje ljubavi daju nijemom svijetu
uđi i upoznaj mog prijatelja
on misli tvoje misli kad sasvim si sam
da ti u samoći baš svi budu tu
on misli misli neba kad sva sunca zgasnu
i sitno zrno zlata sa zrake mu krade
on misli misli zemlje kad sve vode presahnu
i poji hvalom izvore do posljednje kapi
uđi i upoznaj mog prijatelja
on će ti spremiti čaj od biljke jedne
što korijenom ljubi rub od svoga cvijeta
on će ti spremiti jelo od svog hljeba
što mu je zalogaj preživio grom
on će ti spremiti postelju kraj prozora
da u suton gledaš pticu i njen let
uđi i upoznaj mog prijetalja
on drži svoje dane od prvog do posljednjeg
i koprene sati skida sa tvog vida
on drži svoja blaga pod jastukom svjetla
da svjetlo s tog jastuka ugrije ti san
on drži svoje cipele na pragu svakog ulaska
da ti korak ne zamre i da poznaš put
uđi upoznaj mog prijatelja
on ima oči različitih boja
jedno oko plavo drugo kao med
on ima ožiljak nedgje ispod srca
i ranu pod ožiljkom ljutu guju sna
on ima kaput i šešir na glavi
kaput sa dva lica i šešir pun misli
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Heraclitus Fr.30
The world is becoming the bruise in my heart
The desert skin wearing the burns of the dark
The burns of the light
It’s placed in the accords of infliction
The thought of the rain and wind the volcano and the grain
A re-creation of endless circles
The spheric cages of the sky and earth
Dressed in moss my chilly waitings are
The soul of the north freezes my breath
Reality swallowed in a piece of question
Infinitely pushes the edges of the fall
The finite stuck within a dream
Where have I heard the eternal rhythm of the tribe
The beating of the earth within its step
The breathing of the water dripping down
The walls of the caves
Where have I seen the volcano lava
From the centre of nothing into the infinite
The flame was singing instead of me
From secret to secret lit up died out
Peaceful fires of order
Among which I burned
Written in 1995.
Svijet mi postaje modrica na srcu
Koža pustinje sa opekotinom od mraka
Sa opekotinom od svjetla
Staje u akorde stradanja
Misao kiše i vjetra vulkana i grumena
Ponovno stvaranje beskrajnih kružnica
Kružni kavezi zemlje i neba
Obrasla mahovinom ledna mi č ekanja
Sjeverna duša ledi mi dah
Pod kriškom pitanja progutana stvarnost
U nedogled gura rubove pada
Gdje se u konač nost sabija san
Otkud sam č ula vječ ni ritam plemena
Otkucaj zemlje u njegovim stopama
Disanje vode u iskapavanju
Sa zidova peć ina
Otkud sam vidjela lavine vulkana
Iz grotla nič eg u beskraj
Umjesto mene pjevao je plamen
Iz tajne u tajnu palila se gasila
Mirna svjetla poretka
Izmeđ u njih gorjela sam ja
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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Herceg-Novi
Novi is the sound the kloster bell ignites
wave made foam the curtains of the rains
the place of the last Savina peace
the verse in which each droplet writes
Lustica apparition dying again
in the rhythm of the silent morn at ease
Novi je zvuk manastirskog zvona
mjesto posljednjeg savinskog okona
pjena od talasa zavjesa od kise
stih u kome svaka kaplja pise
Lusticu kad u prividu gine
ritmom jutarnje tisine
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The child removes the sky and earth
The child pushes the borders of the possible
The child sees the sky
The child sees the earth
The child is thinking I am made of the sky
The child removes the sky
The way the mother peels the apple
The child sees the earth below
The child is thinking I am made of earth
The child removes the earth
The way the father digs the foundations
The child sees the fire below
The child is thinking I am made of fire
The child removes the fire
The child is thinking I am made of nothing
Lit by fire
Dressed in earth
Covered by the sky
Dijete sklanja nebo i zemlju
Dijete pomjera granice moguć eg
Dijete vidi nebo
Dijete vidi zemlju
Dijete misli od neba sam
Dijete sklanja nebo
Kao što majka ljušti jabuku
Dijete vidi zemlju ispod
Dijete misli od zemlje sam
Dijete sklanja zemlju
Kao kad otac kopa temelje
Dijete vidi vatru ispod
Dijete misli od vatre sam
Dijete sklanja vatru
Dijete misli od nič eg sam
Vatrom zapaljen
Zemljom obuč en
Nebom pokriven
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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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
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Painting The Walls
painting the walls,
rolling over handprints,
cobwebs, and smoke stains....
over splashes of color,
over peels of time.
painting over the sounds
of voices whispering, laughing....
painting over tears hidden
from the world, from each other.
painting over running, and working,
working all day and half the night.
painting over children, and dreams,
folded like old clothes, and put away.
painting over notes from God,
that were often barely noticed...
painting over the nail that held
up the clock, hands moving slowly,
turning the seasons of living....
painting over the final words,
the last breath held in the hands,
of lives written in the grain....
the testimony of each feeling....
painting the walls,
and brushing the corners,
as if we never lived!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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She Wants A Sky/Ona Hoce Nebo
That sky where there is the sky
Unchained
Unlimited by the borders of the sky
She wants the face with a smile
And the hair unsigned by ash
And the bones that do not testify
The pain of an unslept night
Ona hoć e nebo
Ono nebo gdje ima neba
Raskovanog
Granicom neba nesputanog
Ona hoć e lice sa osmjehom
I kosu nepotpisanu pepelom
I kosti koje ne svjedoč e
O bolu neprospavane noć i
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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Ponekad - Sometimes
Ponekad su umjesto jutra
Kroz guste magle mudračkih kosa
Osvitale kiše
Kapci otvarali nova pitanja
I sasvim nova nedorečenost
Preturala po smislu
Ja hodah sama
Sred šumovitosti
Razgolićenih šaka
Zgrabio me svijet
Sometimes instead of the morning
There dawned the rains
Through the mists of the sages' hairs
The ezelids would open new questions
And an entirely new unuttereness
Roamed through the sense
I walked alone
Amidst the forests
With nakedf hands
Grabbed by the worlds
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Cleansing Waters
the sky was a light and dark gray
i knew the rain was on the way.
i longed to feel GODS cleansing water
upon my head.
thunder and lightning i did not dread.
the rains started off very slow
the pitter patter of the drops
set my heart aglow.
for water is the essence of life
and the way it is used
it will not suffice.
i looked up to the skies
and i thanked GOD above
for every dropp of his love.
this love spread throughout this land
giving everything that lived
a helping hand.
the thunder is his voice screaming
out to all mankind.
to stop this devastation
of all his creations.
the lightning is his fingers
pointing to all that he sees wrong
and destroying what doesn't belong.
and through my eyes i see
all that has been created.
my eyes are full, my heart elated.
i see joy, happiness, gladness, sadness
poverty, hunger, war and hate
but above all this
i see love and faith.
faith can move mountains or so they say
i see this faith every day.
people who are terminally ill
a reprieve from GOD
and are here still.
as the waters cleanse the earth
we are cleansed at our birth
and at our baptisim
we let the cleansing waters begin
to finish wiping away our sins.
poem by Louis Rams
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A guitar made of cords/Gitara od zica
Is for a blind the breakfast without a table
Within he ties the sound
Within he ties the fingers when he plays
A piece of bread to the sky that hardly eats
For a triptych of hunger raised
For a meal to the sky cut
Gitara od žica
Slijepom je dorucak bez stola
U koji veže zvuk
U koji veže prste kad svira
Pitavom nebu okrajak hljeba
Za triptih gladi uzgajan
Za obrok neba isjecen
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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Budi od svijeta
Budi od svijeta
Grumen od sna
Pticom od leta
Okom bez dna
Pogled u nedogled
Satkanog neba
Nogom u nedostup
Korak od hljeba
Načinjen trag
Buđenja dodir blag
Budi od svijeta
Tkanicom halje
Od nebopleta
I zemljom dalje
Krilati cvijet
Što šušti listom
Jesenji pad
I dušom čistom
Plavog neba glad
Budi od svijeta
Što jede svijetom
Smrt soptvenog tijela
Budi od leta
Što budi letom
Zemljom zamrla vrela
Budi od spleta
Tkanog nebokretom
Duša što cijelo je srela
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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