RESULTS
POETRY
Kipar, Limasol
KAPANJE
Oblaci trče, ali ti ih mimoilaziš
Kap po kap ostavljaš me iza sebe
Boje spajaju boje
Život se rađa
Pleše na slici koja nikada neće ostariti
Na jesenjim proplancima
Tiho otvaram ruke kiši…
Bit će mi dovoljno da znam
koja kiša kaplje Boga u duše djece
kao sjaj riječi…
Moj dosadašnji život
Dašak vjetra…
Mjesto u vremenu…
Ples na kiši…
Sigurno svima nešto nedostaje…
Neka tvoja odsutnost donese manje tuge
a puka nostalgija
nek miluje naše misli
nadam se da će potrajati još koji dan…
Voljela bih da mogu zadržati još malo suza…
Ali ti si prva zimska kiša i uspomena
To čarobno svjetlo…
koje još nisam vidijela…
Translated to Bosnian by Nermin Delić
……………………………………………………….
ΣΤΑΛΑΓΜΑΤΙΕΣ
Τα σύννεφα τρέχουν, αλλα εσύ τα προσπερνάς
Σταγόνα σταγόνα με αφήνεις πίσω
Τα χρώματα παντρεύουν τα χρώματα
Γεννιέται ζωή
Χοροί σε ένα πίνακα που δεν θα γεράσει ποτέ
Στα ξέφωτα του φθινοπώρου
ανοίγω τα χέρια μου σιωπηλά στη βροχή …
Μου αρκεί να ξέρω
που στάζει Θεό στις ψυχές των παιδιών
η λαμπρότητα των λέξεων …
Η ζωή μου μέχρι τώρα
Μια ανάσα ανέμου …
Ενα στίγμα στο χρόνο …
Χορέψτε στη βροχή …
Σίγουρα σε όλους κάτι λείπει …
Μακάρι η απουσία σου να δώσει λιγότερη θλίψη
και μόνο η νοσταλγία
να χαιδεύει τις σκέψεις μας
με την ελπίδα να κρατήσει άλλη μια μέρα …
Μακάρι να συγκρατήσει λίγο ακόμα δάκρυ …
Είσαι η πρώτη χειμωνιάτικη βροχή και ανάμνηση
Αυτό το μαγικό φως …
που δεν έχω αντικρύσει ακόμα …
Kipar, Nikozija
DEONTOLOGIJA
„Kakav idiot“ promrmljaće
kad vide akrobatu
dok lebdi u vazduhu
na nizu ideja koje vise kao vlažna tkanina
zgužvana na okeansko plavom papiru
bez naslova i bez potpisa
da nas učine skeptičnim
nad istorijom antropologije
preko logike muzike
i šizofrenije ritma.
“Kakav idiot” ponavljaće taktički
dok se bori sa nabujalim haosom
korak po korak
u autentičnoj ravnoteži
između kritične mase i metafore
između komedije lažiranja talenta
i tragedijelošeg tumačenja sarkazma.
„Kakav idiot“ viknuće
ali ovo groblje ideja
već im se ruši na glavu.
“Fantazija” arhitekta će viknuti odozgo “je sve što vam treba, sinovi i kćeri, fantazija i magija. Lethe simbola kojipostaše vaša anatomija je bakterija koja će vas žive pojesti”.
„Kakav idiot“ vikaće
sve glasnije
ali nisu ljubomorni na akrobata
služe obimu
oni su biološki kriterijumi
onoga što dolazi,
jer ovo je dijalog
između pjesme
i kutije
koja ima simpatije
za odjek sopstvenog imena
dok pada kao aroma na plastično cvijeće
koje se pretvara da šalje
kiseonik
nazad u atmosferu
da bi akrobat nastavio
centriranje baze
anđeoske dinastije
koja analizira kako može pasti
bez slijetanja na naše glave
dok gledamo u liniju
filozofskih antiteza
prije nego što nestane
plašeći se divova filantropije
koji stižu na mazgama.
Translated to Montenegrin by Anđela Turukalo Dabetić
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………
DEONTOLOGY
“What an idiot” they will murmur
when they see the acrobat
hover in mid air
on a line of ideas hanging like moist fabric
scribbled on ocean blue paper
untitled and unsigned
to render us sceptic
over the history of anthropology
over the logic of music
and the schizophrenia of rhythm.
“What an idiot” they will repeat tactically
while he is fighting the swelling chaos
step by step
in an authentic balance
between critical mass and metaphor
between the comedy of faking talent
and the tragedy of misinterpreting sarcasm.
“What an idiot” they will shout
but this cemetery of ideas
is already crashing on their heads.
“Fantasy” the Architect will call from up there “is all you need, my sons and daughters, fantasy and magic. The Lethe of the symbols that has become your anatomy is the bacterium that will eat you alive”.
“What an idiot” they shall shout
ever more loudly
but they are not jealous of the acrobat
they serve a scope
they are the biological criteria
of what is to come,
for this is a dialogue
between a poem
and a box
that has sympathy
for the echo of its own name
falling like aroma on plastic flowers
that are pretending to be sending
oxygen
back to the atmosphere
for the acrobat to continue
recentring the base
of the angelic dynasty
to analyse how they can fall
without landing on our heads
as we stare at the line
of philosophical antitheses
before it disappears
afraid of the giants of philanthropy
arriving on mules.