Leaving the Pictures
Content
ZORAN SLAVIC
LEAVING THE PICTURES
POETRY
ZRENJANIN 2013.
LEAVING THE PICTURES
POETRY
ZORAN SLAVIC
Translation by
Elizabeth Tas
The original edition of the book, on paper, they released GNB "Zarko Zrenjanin" Zrenjanin and " Prometheus ", Novi Sad, 1996. year. This is a copyright issue Zoran Slavic, who
All rights reserved.
Zrenjanin, 2013.
Instead of introduction
It is worth to approach the Slavic poetry. In addition, with this book he is consistent with his poetics. It is single, recognized, authentic voice. From the lonely (almost conspiratorial) companionship with books, allocated to a poetic view of the world and one that requires a complete reader and requires someone like herself to understanding the range or if you like, a cluster of metaphors, those fundamental, deep, spherical metaphor which in our poetry at the end of the century that we find in our little poet. The poems in this book disclose another side of Slavic poetic personality. They are full of existence anxieties. For reviews poet Milan Nenadic
In the book "LEAVING THE PICTURES " (1996), in which, through simulation prolonged state of anxiety, through the senses and the rhythmic scope of life and literature of the burned ruins reading, the poet manages to make a new exit personal, from what is, metaphorically speaking, only picture what is the time to embrace in visible and concrete, watching behind the masks final, the poet reveals his round trip through a temporary summer.
Nenad Saponja, writer
WAITING FOR SHIPS
WAITING FOR SHIPS
With Camus is waiting ships at return My Mediterranean remained in its summer They took away my past: Sea that I know He is not even close: From friable the tide waves My despair chanting in the distance of memories Still manage to bring up for him: to act out I remember only one image: no other Smell it dominates: The sky is finished Ships and still not come: we are just waiting Even in death, which is the light coming noisier? You are its Mediterranean brought on a flash It hurts me sea while with river interpreting the plain Did you finish all: enough walked? Did summer explode when you despair ended Black dress of cloth at the end of the sentence Can I Strangers on my ship to call I lost two seas: Once at the bottom I walk Another in my memory does not have: Record left
BOOK AND BREATHING
The book fell into my interruption of breathing Gloomy garden: a piece of grass. Wood and walls Rows lost meaning: Heaven is reduced Pages dipped in gray: Words abduction is I will breathe tomorrow I am reading today: I do not write I misplaced somewhere rhythm: Sartre and nausea From the window watch the idle soul: miracle Something happened to the man: On disease resembles From the book like a shudder sneak out butterfly Murdered souls staring: Each in his dark I would like to determine its own position Turned off the sky: My word illuminates: Destiny The hands look: As of books That is dirty: From the work that touch at a time What the book mocks in my scant garden It spoils the breathing while scenery sets
LOOKING FROM THE HOTEL
Again and increasingly feel that time leaks under the skin I observe gone wild plants at the bottom of of the manhole: Owl From my face still glowing summer while quietly grow old: Now it will In Depth transport wrinkled men: And sunset After Joyce provincial uproar me cold and dirty All the light still patched body trembling From the hotel looking life molds and others: Go away A city that is not Dublin ready for lust and dream Itching of the street surrounds my room: And someone shouts Destroyed, and all of the former liberty and books The thirst I feel like an in front of a firing squad: Video Hidden in the shadow of someone else's letter: Time throws up: Come
THE UPGRADED MEMORIES AND FUTHER THAN THAT
Wild Eyes: My spoil from the labyrinth: And the beast I was only in reading anticipating a warning: Rabies On the changed landscape pour out the bile In the forest near the river net fell: Singing contagion In Spaces hampered of memories sky came down Dream from the other side: Ribs: Everything was curdled A broken clocks full time buried Follow me as Arabal care cemeteries Shake off the sweat of history but not me luck At home I feel windows me press: Read The sky was already quite low and dull: And buzzing About moonlight dispersed by voice: Still silent Word is decay through on homeland: Sleep when it is not It smells violets lead hidden under the black ball It would be a pain too deep, the fear that I will The past that me do not recognize: Be silent today: Tomorrow is not From the circle of the wise error runaway me arrive at the doorstep In nature not know how: My house thawed: With words were
ONE SATURDAY
While the heat clears all shades Sweat does not know for thought and beauty Again talking about Camus, Algeria: The sun His mind me remember the Hyperboreans Oversize Light seduces him: Took Saturday early afternoon: Day less desperate than Sunday Television without control crushing reality The more channels increased dullness drips July is like that forever: Shower silent Overall spoiled taste of sand: White: Incandescent Roared the car down the street: Camus hurry Reconciliation with destiny to meet Despair is understood by the end Saturday is Date deeply the month The only anxiety to spare: No others Newspapers cleared of war still crying It is all right: Only makes no sense Your instant death, my Albert Camus More suited to The Northern bard Although Leopardi evoke: Cavafy also However, who will it shades of When you preface death dictates Only the sun all the difference reduces to absurdity The July Saturday: Wars still live last for Insidious and ever: Television has not loved them anymore
SAY VENICE BUT I THINK ELEGY
When someone dies Venice has got serious Through the Grand Canal sediment solemn walks On the ferry fasting sun strikes the back of the head The thought came to me that neither of the windows will not Death in Venice no matter how far: Command A bunch of lacy history irony secreted When I left home I prayed to god In the chaos of the divine St. Mark's Square was silent In Murano glass a contorted sorrow for tomorrow As for the bottom all sludge miserable wakes In my dream still dying neighbor not arrives Doge's palace I quietly wear future corpse I cannot in conscience even the thought of Man: Death In Venice, this time not for me: I have Miles away your own sorrows End of summer: Tintoretto Paradise: boat goes back
LOST IN PROUST
If I open the door gush out events How to file from Proust more enlarge Outside like everything is broken: noise ratio Odette is lying but with lots of sweet music If I copy a page aroma cannot On the Boulevard someone ran across the driveway Are you on her observes masking There is going to be nevertheless: And I cannot escape I feel rebuff: While outside taking my Hear swing crossed distance: Swan In my room I walled up: When will it disclose Someone in the elevator scream: Breathe with intermittent Sirens and then a silence: Did not survive This is not my event: Linden tea On the other side of the door just a simple day Maybe I was too harsh to Odette: Summer While outside force me warnings I have to invent something bitter enough Proust to put off until the storm passes And as I've misplaced the taste of pure pain
DANGER FROM LILACS
Why even have a name Lilacs do not like Not for April when it earth wake Yet he picturesque way out of winter The sound of the wood-flower I hear black In the back yard. At neighbor's wall White. Purple. Blue: It grew a dense lilac I remember the smell through which view Cemetery Now to me directly in slimy sorrow push Window. Backyard too. I always sunset Lilac continually. As the eternally April Disease. Punishment. I have all of them that recovered from In the jug flowers commemorating to solitude I Like Eliot: The Waste Land: A corpse in the garden Lready lets sprouts: Because I do not like lilacs Bloomed in my yard. Again escaped winter I will let the dog come to him: Let him mark
MALFUNCTION IN THE CALENDAR
The time involved in extinction Calendar is silent: Fog The anguish of my head starting with the clock: Song What to say when down the Danube Milos goes again: Slim Years are confused murder of minutes: Sumatra Lament is completely broken the crux of the hour Iron anything: Shut up I feel in my head strangeness sand: No more my soul Feuding with the times through mists of his I sail Odysseus song threw me on the beach with algae On our way through Tuscany, I lost the crucial citation Time taken hold of me around the neck: Pariah back dreams Slim forever he defies the calendar: Rain fell asleep My passion with Clock I pay with my head: Knowledge has sunk
SHORT LIFE OF SONGS: VASILJEV
Over your Kikinda now cloud forever young As a runaway soul is silent In undress with the person you Turned into a cry of flames The flag of defeat dissolved your life: However, here you have I sing you desire that life with the day to day Becomes broader: Dawns despite Carry in your alleys little white Of morning dew: Blood you know how I In addition, milk to dull colors Čenej banished from reality: Read. Remember: Backwards because you must Banat hard night what dreams are tame: The war will tread tomorrow: And today you also Through Kikinda provided can I pass your poem entitled: You are a boy and man: Life comets There is always a war that after singing: Whether musical people will be left over Cloud your sails everywhere and fog so our: Periphery of the world: Always work for others While reading your year: Cosmos morning: I think that you did not even stay overnight A quiet death in the middle of the night you met: You fear it has nonetheless become: I am writing on a blank Until you come to have of meeting Djura and Crnjanski calling: Relatives you’re Panon: You know Dull blade and incurable war song In reality called permanent: mobilized forever Your verses with all meat fallen away: With the skeleton clean bunt talking and crying Sumrakovac and Galicia come: Jakšić and Milos: Banat our damned whirling Whenever you dreamed your dream broke down: Breath and soul disappeared Returning you just dread and cracked voice: Moreover, you just wanted air Neither roof nor good young naked white women:
Only the stars and stationary circle Only that yellow woman closely follows: In life: And after death, whether Our Banat, my Dusan, shelter fertility and sadness: Screech and drug Consolation to you should not: Your desperation is light liberated itself If ever I meet somewhere on the road your hospital stench: Voice shameful day multiplied Means that barbed wire directly In your heart leads me time In Stevancev pond grows a tree: Acacia all in the fire: Just scream My life would extend to today: To stay here, room for dreamers All the songs you come to me: only the verse you want: You sing the pain stumble: Always after the war Awning word: While we are talking cloud free sky: However, you still have As long as man's mother cry
PAINTED RECKLESSLY
Talking about autumn: foot worn and tasteless: Wax I photographed unadvisedly: Reading Michelangelo As I walked through the scene from the movie: Far and escape Sonnets in the meantime: Park obsessed with gray: tied Rain pouring directly into my life: with tongue kiss As I've always passed by: Florence from the left An autumn and deep. Film in the absence of meaning Shake verse: He sings about the soul: The body. Masks. Hammer Thicken this autumn: From fog Crnjanski writes: Spleen I fall in the citation: What will not want to be happy: Buonarroti Another would be to finish always better. In park camera is lurking II will not yet in sight: From the depths of Santa Croce: Hand Bite me thought a haunted brethren: Migration of the blind: They go From all my knowledge only fatigue: Milos’s photo: Dafina A friend Buonarroti - Tommaso. Footworn history and Sistine stress In movie entering used birds: Autumn floods me: Ink He says: Send to light, sprightly instruct him: Isakovic were Sky vulgarized to the hair roots: I breathe the winds biliary I keep quiet. Autumn and me: Poets intercept a film about everyday As a passer I write the time: Somewhere frescoes wander
TEMPTING THE SCENE
ENCOUNTERED ON THE RIVER
Among these shores thick and deep water Banat coast I breathe in the rugged Twilight Something river confused: Heaven wet: Sleepy Tisa River persistently and daily green-yellow In soul gazing I wear burnt wreckage In the mid abstained water barges pass by What is now burned floats freely Lie down willow in the face of soft Tisa: Clouds go As the constant migration I remember this river In any whirlpool wild equestrian sleeps My loneliness downstream of the staging take notes My insomnia Tisza not to settle down If I remove the whether the color will change If it was twilight heals Wreck fall asleep On the bank of the Banat am sliding into pure soul When I fall asleep all will sink into darkness
Tempting the SCENE
The horse in the race: Bottom former long: A picture will not Wakening bathed by glass fog. The hoof in the dew: Race Someone writes density day that still kneeling: Will hurt Going back in July. Cut a slice of pain With horse’s scenery testing you: Speed against end White bird. Clean of life. Wrong: Landed The voice broke touching me. Only a slight sting in the soul It all fits Colors. Day. Creeps: But it is too deserted Picture know who wait: Back to descended time In horse my poem: Message: As a bullet: From serenity Matures summer the middle of the grass. Get down thirst: Wait: watch for Then changes begin. Horse raising oneself. Day stand For the birds spilled the roses: Thunder heaven opens her mouth Grass hums. The bees. Wind. Bird gutted: The ant At the bottom of the former sea morning I left Rainstorm Smells trace spade: Path through tomorrow: Noon stopped The horse jumped from: One who lurks tighten the string Wind crumpled air: I must be dreaming because all burn When the bird: Space when closed: Then the horse Image betrayed: Poem in it: I left and there is no me
TOWN AND GARDEN
In the former center of the city at the time set on: Garden For all kinds of power languishes framed nature: Alone When Banat goes mad from the heat there to get away With Baroque it Gentry a shot of her sides: Only sky sees it The fountain. Peacock. Stone lions: The gentry of every kind Around Town is multiplied: County Prefect is napping and digested Rebellion will be poured out: Fire clean up all the space Follow the Austro-Hungarians: White coffee and milihbrot Drop forged Iron Gate: dully look through the stained glass Wars in the garden just relax A Little Night Music Sometimes wanders into a classy afternoon hasty scream In the basement of the County a very insignificant fight On the balcony while history is simulated Garden silent Knows that distance in the plane how it all ends The city transforms. Begej there: In the garden changes House cleaners walk in the late afternoon: Viennese Music With the new Righteous garden folded to: Shrivel Enter people who only ever from the outside dared to stare The shine comes off: And time is: Lions dirty: And stork Baroque facade rain washed more garden maintained by the sky fallen Time of style liberated for garden writing new account Peacocks flew City hoarse: No gold fish All desires are fulfilled: No more nobility: People Still alive: They not even know why: A Garden: Despite there is
AUTUMN AND HONEY
I discovered early in the morning-sugared honey Roe deer are from the fog running straight towards the sun In my body autumn still appeared with a chill On the concrete track that morning sprinkled with ice Fasting field full of blackbirds jumped: Frost spoon I can hardly sip to taste a flight of summer The sky is getting cold. Grasses have obeyed a threat On the side road a scarecrow road sign painting Through the Window: People wait in a group Look up in the air: Bus passes: He is not In Tea honey: Day melts no rain In the autumn entered for images calendar Moreover, it all started with candied honey. In addition, ice Doe have invited from memory: The fog your Do my friend painter people lend me? Wind grass. Birds color. Scarecrow is from the book By honey I feel metallic taste: The bite spoons Tomorrow I will know it is autumn skipped: Winter In addition, darkness what to announce our lunch: Paint Me with what you are waiting for we are all let down
CAUGHT PEOPLE
Over pictures Zdravko Mandic
What these people hunt in the fog Banat What or whom never to know: Or not The reverse of the landscape somewhere in autumn hour While sirens painter change into the heavy net Ice what over water invisible agrees The boats of woven cobwebs in the air holding Painter it only dream of eternal back browses Hunting fish in the airy darkness shortened tomorrow Coming ashore frozen human scenery Their margins without a face with water to soften Planted in a haze suffer the in silence disappearing Painter they just they just the skill of deletion keeps a watchful With one color and two nuances of empty he writes Group solitude that horizon-forming premonition With Fog whether they feed all hunger mythical what is coming Waiting movement people caught painter remember
WINDOW FULL OF TROUBLES
My window tonight will absorb directly into the wind And west of the city sprinkled with dense yields Roars uncooked smell of rain The path of the Tisza suddenly thickens no back Tractors in the series jumped from dusk Transported eyes in which fatigue calls the least The wind room in sail turns: Only where On the other side of where they came from: It makes no sense Wearing these people let down their hill alienated Through field slowed and day with evenings confused The window is louder wetting me with a dark change Stretch to Pannonia: Remember the deep: the new Misery Rain is not my view that closes before sunset I had just put together a room and thought: Again bang Tractors full and bottomless people disject Tears are ashamed and river completely degraded If you write your injury do the morning faster Or maybe the plains when he wakes up all know How to expel builds your soul centennial My window to finally remember the clear blue sky
SCENE ON THE EDGE OF DREAMS
(By Zdravko Mandic)
It remembers the scene in the sands of inky water On ash mainland where disembarking the new Argonauts
In a blue mists only molds for some quests out of mind The evaporated core of rock and freezes in the direction of horror parturition Moreover, all of this: the sight suffering from a similarity of elements In round and provisional figures peaked curiosity Hunger of nature the graphic presses retract with velum morning The gamma of rust horizon thoughts material that does not breathe Only cloud Neptune tip in the inky sea dares Slip Egg yolk with careless heaven: Revive Stone: The sound Forms readily waiting for high tide and rain: Stone wants to fly The scene awaiting to life decide: Light or dark Neither the artist does not know who will: None Hand: Do not know when: And why
LEAVING THE PICTURE
AS I READ NIGHT
Instead of books night alone I try to leaf through I feel her ribs. Read midnight cars Light mild stand up. I fell over the line In sleep alone sediment childhood spills San flourishing in the dust in the street and the heat Old cut awakened creak: Again narcosis Recovering from which sleepy to build Distance When the fire overtakes me all the letters of the year I know that day usual section between nights is All I remember tonight from the book go to the city Then under miscellaneous follows morning train newspaper I write in defense. Last days in song back
TIME: NO BETTER: NEITHER MY
I see out of breath how to ice me catching the tail Own thoughts: mute touch unknown Pure nonsense: Shallow: Calm: Mortally Sip: Day and sludge trap me A color that sieves: Blunt: Wandered off While I sinking but it is not mine The landscapes of the soul: Breathing: War and me Distracted: Black: torn apart: Time Pale curtains on the spine hanging: Our general hospital Operation: Open dream pain Shame and opium him tame In warrior masked Death is a guest Today and one day longer: Environment her known During the breaks speeches run: Comedy Our faces were powdered: Bones By force of man together near: ancestorhappens In emptiness clock is ticking skull Cold-blooded our is panic My head and images from the screen: Storm The force is pressed: Remember color: Noise alone My time: no better: Neither my Outside occurs wounds caused About the winter thought shortened search Words: Poison them occupying and frost Ballet writers have embraced Operetta general In the archives of allocation busy: Premiere All History in pictures: our Hogpen Whom for neck: Deceived and innocent A voice from nowhere: the late soul
For the one who started it all: Who wants to know: The truth was long ago defined: In confusion resident our homeland I remain silent: I measure: how we deep surely We return and we are not better
IF THERE IS A
If there is a soul of which is owned Do you like the morning or jug of sleep Do's and those heartless: Or Maybe it is just a place for all the pain Does the soul have a special alphabet The growth of the use of poetry: Love Do traces remain in the eternity From the hasty use of your life You may bathe before you leave us: And Whether breathe: Do the with beauty feed Bodies from crossing into the light If there is: the soul is just like a child
FILMING POETRY
All around autumn: Poets camera follows Boards. Nets. Tool. He says: Poetry walk His record in threadbare clothes: The intimacy of the mind In canes see nature traveling: The breath: Spirit Stones him grew in the garden: simple words Autumn transparent. Orchard and sky gutted Ashes poet tames them: The Earth is in the voice of They would like to see drama: Twilight: Cut He sees in magic root and fruit: Wine The journalist insisted on poetics: A Childhood Opened the throat of whom leaking dark: Magic Spotlight poet nailed to the wall: Preface The shack nervousness: The camera cannot see inside a dream Outside, in the darkness of autumn rearranged. Moreover, be silent Lights disfigured face: All by him now look like Poets in the end change clothe however in ceremony site
WHEN STONE FLIES
I throw stones deep shot up in the air To him weight relieves and let the spirit I saw a parachute full of nothing: The man Rock would fly away. Density to reduce A man held in the air that coming down It is certain that will down: Has here habit Somewhere: While my strength is Meeting With stone that is temporarily free Man that drop the pilot and I maintaining The parachute only cures for disbelief Stone conspiring with his hand tempts flight In all, however, is an elementary consciousness I imagined so that stone pay homage to His suffering in the short illusion to paint When they saw: A man and a deceived heavier My melancholy would just smile Will end in the earth: The fall is free If the stone rolled away: It will be easier for him: Weight In addition, it hurts like this: Operate density yet Miss by yourself passion fractured awareness
TROUBLE WITH TIME
It invades me clock to the point of insanity: Flowing I feel how it has thought undressing me. Peel Time bivouac crucifies me and change: Weft By negligence chapter on measures I wound with the number of Lever-arm my from last life calls out: Genes Read air and milled powder lunges: The Collapse Cloudless day my room cat while the clock defies Idea clock will keep silent about tomorrow: The Fall Father's time back melts. Dedication surrounds me I head to grips with the clock catches: Count Who knows how far I'll get me a clear day while crashes I cheated dreams. Clock outwitted me: Who measures the Hours
WATER WITHOUT MEANING
I came deep in color that no lines: Waves My drawing does not recognize olives and cemeteries of Breath Pictures what I close at heart and paint with douche: Sea From within and long fire and defeat: Boat forgets me: In vain water: Through the empty reaches. Defense is sail Coming debt navigation without conditions: Bottom embrace me Waves are unwound. Depth dulled. Color shallow Although I know that the sea is not. It has a manuscript Drawing what olives will not gasps for my voice. Wait Cemetery it will bring you there when the dream goes out On photos Sea swells. Wasted water me hours measure Memory when knock on the sky the blood and salt will recognize Palms disclose treason. Heal the tide. No longer valid Became silent calls. I would go for the sound of a deep color In vain I have a boat. Drawing is impassable. At the bottom the cross Empty place for yesterday. Today it overlay the dark
A COMMON SONG
In start rainstorm: Crude sprinkles me nausea How do you pronounce the beginning with them disappearing distance Downpour breathes loudly: In threads me watching the sky My departure to right ruined roof already looks like They are quite in anger turned aside: Speech them is full patch The sun and I have been sober all: Downpour left us Anguish the call her: They stiffly up to the door It would look like a walk that the landscape is not covered with Where the sun would be: Permanent holes there Language us mother gets in the way: only: I see them Letters to dry in the air: Disasters distance left In random house set table: You need to pray I dare to say: The host passion my alone supported House without walls: The silence tempts us: soul to rise When with the song common try rhyme us be of distinction scare
HUNGER IN BACK
When this happens: Jump out of Screech alone We will become the seeds and open a number of forms Moreover, as good as the sky soaked in milk: Bread From moonlight irregular hidden: Children taken Already know how to be silent while whiteness is multiplied When this happens: Letters to panic Assault and hunger Closed on the agreement and fear: Free fall The movement will slow us no trace: Circle Illness from memory, and path of all the angles: Where From country cold: We write all deleted days When this happens: Mouth of colors numerically: Black In milk failed to take our word memory of pain On the go behind the movement: Kiss dead mother A Cry in the bread rushes> Form at the end of types In the belly of bird seed speechless: In place left over When this happens: In the back we agree famine
LEAVING THE PICTURES
It rings alarm bells: Last call is The gray hanging family pictures disappear In the underground: Childhood breathing where: Damage Vanish road signs and waiting rooms In the middle of a jump message me stumble: Turn If I come back the other side will disappear Jump if I continue image will not survive I decide to stay in the air forever Wake-up call though stuffiness my past Ring as the last: Gray. A lot of gray I am cold while floating and remember a picture Protected by the realization that the only eternal fall Abnormally caught in space: Jump head Eyesight bringing into question: Or the snapshot changes Empty the family picture: About me confusion Remain: All go: Not Down: Up: Maybe: Take If quite extinguish memory: Can be left
JOURNEY IN CIRCLE
When we returned I definitely know: To ship in a bottle is the only true end of the world Passengers on it will see even the final image The truth behind the glass looks dull but is permanent Closed in magic substances are distorts: Pale in They think: Wood and skillful hands that are headed for there Moreover, greed that believe in the end of the world: Nevertheless Their limited life of the wind is no longer dependent: Glass protects them Our path to the remote alone asphyxia reasoning We did not recognize him: We remembers the fever To reach the goal might be able: But why Coast this where it ends: Beginning is going Master at least that learning while ship bottle entrusts Transparent pointy headed light us in failure Our is travel skills and sense missing While the master job ends we staring at the sky Again we on the road and everything was within easy reach
TEMPORARILY SUMMER
Fix it in summer my idea of winter Jul burn out exactly noon in the city Passing through the day weight released hours Blowing through my mind on fire and punishment Pronounce winter would not the heat subsided Summer must precede that would return With letters darkness tames themselves quite unusual Year whom accelerates carries a hard mask In front they stand reality in a row That I set fire. City of birth that amazed When I say summer know that lie caller True masks just descend all shatters I read the darkness of the book topped with light I stripped naked with a letter of July day If I fall asleep in the sun l will be marked out of a deal Awaken me winter in who summer no waiting
LEAVING TOWN
ORDINARY MORNING
The cry of silence lurks behind shaven faces: Do no one awake I put lotion instead of morning sweat in the trench: Neither History forgotten me roughly: Travels and grins the We are all dared while it lasted. They said it was so As we shot into the sky. Dirty. Unshaven. The borrowed Still we waited for ordinary things. Another ride away From bathrooms to go out skinned. Drama of sleeping pills I'm asking about the wall which should be: with whom: and why: jump Through the gate me escape fear. Water and soap thinned cheek How mild morning and the sun were is at the top of the minefield Stench burned-out attack. Heaven only scratch. I am yours The night was easier: Start off now shall I. Day unforgiving Where everything is unreal razor and the shots were ours In trapped bathrooms usually lurking morning: No more history
SUNDAY IN THE BACKGROUND
An ordinary soldier and wounded. Before sunrise Stands framed in a scream. Listens to fear: Breathes Expelled from the body of civil putting out the horror of the morning The window should be lifted. Children, however, see Death or disgrace crawling along the bed: Sunday A soldier from the night train arrived and wrinkled How do we tell him that our guests are coming. Indeed In vain: Unshaven does not understand us: The sun He would say something, but does not understand that we have forgotten Then you go down the street wounded. To restore happiness His walk pales. All he knew: We only here are no Why is it so unshaven? Sundays. In the background
LEAVING TOWN
We climb the mountains: Again and with difficulty City of depth we spoiled: Crumpled Ascent us is urgent: As if the same us prosecute Yet we see it: All bruised from forgiveness Fresh air and morning. In your pocket News Some shoots back. I took sick Dirty and peeled but ours For those that stayed drop curses One takes "From" and hides it: Snake From stone silent changing climate: Rubble I fell upon cough of mind floods came Abandoned city still breathing: Habit left with The bottle goes from mouth to mouth: Empty throw We highly: On news bacon and onions The one that hides the book looks in depth City are punished: their soul now starts Playing Do I have to: I brought phonebook Over his shoulder: Headlines in old newspapers We left it as a dirty shirt Man's "From." City rolled up. In the song cry
NOT HISTORY
Is not human history what fooled me now Dawn every ordinary the things revolt demolished Or maybe it drama becomes quite continuous It happens continue nuisance centuries: Life rebels Futile I know that this is part of a general war, which will pass It became dull. Sense when will to wake up I don't leave the issue easily removed wall Breath to revive me when they pass through threats: Children and fear Time as is dead again: History reduced to two letters With the horse still see and easier to die: Walk planes Fatigue forbidding conditions. Fear sunbathing touted In you I have now read that again to build memories It was easy while living fast: By command of the soul Times uncomfortable traveling on someone else's expense Of recently everyone has to do for himself: To survive Now living feats address has a number, pain, and pride
AS A FEAST
Jump beyond the tiresome of silence I go in mid Holidays: Taste me hard Flags were driving me into the sun: Speeches A man without style: Dates dropping to his belt In addition, I could with boredom in step: And a smile At midday I get that. On the other hand day To wait a comforting thought: no more tomorrow Dates intercepted me. Of speakers escaped Moreover, holiday struggles: The flag is not recognized In the name-breathing dream they awoke: How anew I came too close to the event: The time is late Pass some cyclists: Not in history A man in a suit by calling: disorders language Caught in the story seem to believe: No speech Perhaps the and all this was: Children brought flowers I still taste fasting: Loud and empty Holiday to shrivel somewhere between the flags From the sun I stealthily one date hides: Man with speech This number does not need more Me error at least will
END OF MEMORIES
It is hard to say: We have no more memories In addition, what is left better not When we started on the game looked like Move a few dates. The victim figures History and we also like over numbered We did not draw. Only deleted. Beautifying The employer is only occasionally suggested No use to lie: We dated nice The smell of rot has occasionally bothered We are sinking day and night. The three of us courageous Through the graveyard of noise and fury possessed Historian. Poet. Politician: A lonely any We rewrote for another: And for your soul Hidden behind Lord we tried the power Up to the elbows in history we forget With the gods caught up in consumer fraud When they dried up memories: Trio cracked On fingers remained color, blood, gilding: Lie Politician the short memory lucky Knowing who writes historian easily survive The poet is greedy heart in head moved Tried a day to translate into the language of the soul Let down him punished Time to sign death All he verse mentions it burns out until dawn Them either neither do we any more shelter: Awake In reality we spend our days: And to know
WAR GAMES
On screen the game explodes: The computer is fighting me Count the bodies. Killed were annulled: The sum From the kitchen the smell of reheated weekend: Beer My black and white monitor undressing story of the bones Blood is so black. Gray sky. Heroes colorless With more money color would be closer to the blood: But A step me machine draw. At the door by mistake ring I spend time with other people. Faster. In addition, the battle is others From Living room Bosnia is leaking through the screen. In color Dripping water in the sink. A man shouts from the elevator The Game is rushing me. Minutes decline. Dark drizzly Shooting planes. I have another life. Bad News Nervous swallow. Conspiracy of televisions and computers From one to another is transferred intrigue. Midnight Down shutting apparatus. Intentions they remain in the room: Anger Death I missed in my sleep dragged bomb While screens are silent Game scatters me. The war lurks In the dense darkness bed fills up double nightmare Man shoots and hits the middle of the day tomorrow
PARIAH DOG S GRAPES
Maybe not for the song: Pariah dogs grapes Juice his purple as a seal last for As if today fingertips scrub They never ask: What and only finds Low enough. The dog has just reached Of all flowers and swamp intensity of thick Childhood when digs it just gleam Grow this mess: My herbal spheres However, an even pariah dog is not just an ordinary double In a fine dog on chain does not live luck Owner purple beads only dream Getting wet, when they want. Starving. Wanders. Lucky Dog as the grapes coupled with and barking It is always in the open air: Moon loves Bites. Chidori. He does everything but not lounging The fact that your grapes is not a test does not care Herbal the weeds from the flora lateral teamed May one song that compound to completely ignore They last useless: Create and fruit: Who combine them Devised some pure happiness and those they put together When he came to leave: Evaporate like a dream at dawn
IMAGE FLOWING AGAIN
BRAIN FATIGUE
Not read. Never dreamed of. And there was no Yet I feel unrest and run away the Balkans Nature and the continent falling rebellion The bilingual floods and migration as yeast Who too deep dive into the map will perish Shelters soft. Mediterranean stepped into a dream
Searchers find me still and burn From their own tales of running away is not worth Moreover, I know that Central Europe would have to rise On the Rhine along the Danube packages go frost It is futile to grow onions and violet At a time when the refugees themselves do not resemble Not at all burn to me: I feed only with fire No boundaries: Fear and fatigue creep everywhere Flames of space history all exhausted I read the newspaper confused: Of all silent Europe the thought broke big thirst Wrote. In addition, read a long time. They still got sick
IMAGES AGAIN
From the heat for a long time I tame begin Mallow and cheek While coming from the east, the voices of the making picture Icon bribed. Hide collapse predecessor: Mold Fear of the female figure and shadow divine in a fist While the burning material in the middle of a mud touches me Speaking in passing on some lines. Mainly blue East in pause creates heresy Back in Time: The Gods Moldy wakens me on the cheek convey butterfly: Ramblers On every prayer with a clear mistake: Neither a cure nor life Inbound on the image saying: She's gone and already cursed In temple an icon dried up. Bell started and stopped My annoyance with the fire not to dwindle: Burn my face From mallow tea and silent messengers waiting capitulate and powder Image not convey in words: Who dares: Signs While we talk flowing myrrh east again something bodes: the Core In the fire alone. Coal and anger. Start it came: Who salvation
ESCAPE IN LITERATURE
Voices me temporary vet: City at the bottom Track from the book: More pure and upright. Human. Shadow Richard was having lunch in the station restaurant. Same city When sounds aging I now it is near colorless as rust In addition, nothing unusual: a bland inexpensive meal in a restaurant Tin plate is silent. Nobody is asking: Cry from the book His shadow on the wall. Waiting for me. Twilight in the suburbs I am going to hive then silence. Voices are aligned I know the book: Still rough hinder me tidbits: a foreign language Restaurant lost the station. The double me pushing from imagination The title is accurate. Translation may be: The city is brutally dismantles Voices are pouring into the former sentence: Give me back my child I need a bath. Fold mark. Find at least station Perhaps the writer traveled by train: Richard does not know anything City of voices that lasts and people eat quickly Tin plate left: the Balkans swallow the American night
EXCURSION TO THE SHRINE
Climb completely convinced the night before Covering their eyes to the environment: The Dormition As you read only simple signs: They think No one they no preceded. Like to pray While watching me seems really: But Clothing and tag me yet Revolt: The trip Golgotha: But why waving hands: While Breathe rapidly: be baptized: Hold the book They climb out of breath: Ecstasy expectations Wreaths around their heads: Nike Sneakers and Cameras Climb as strange coming down: Up only Flashing fake: Sale the postcards Some saw that as: All recognized Soon wills Sunrise: By day no miracles: Yet Committed kill the other: Exercise of religion I am a witness: The sky was near: But the goal But the goal is supported: From the rain sound dumb grow I went with them and incense can: Like excursions The music almost right while going down: Matins In addition, killed returning: Forgiven them: Do not do again
GOING TO THE WIND
YOU’RE LAUGHTER
For mother Now I know that it was not cheerful The laughter through your kitchen door As we entered with creaking floor: Key Your skin was white as a gap Like you are telling us behind the mask How exceed what veins Serenity has a nicer color: Laughter hides He was your silent cry and warning You are encased in laughter: With coercion in his voice Coming from outside the scene have turned off There was no joy in your half-light The only optimism watched off the wall The child in the picture. The eyes of pure joy When we walked away as if we running away You would issue sometimes smile without coverage Your hand was silent: Sleeping song How to love those who are sufficiently close Creaking is still when we were late The child looked at us with a clean serenity Your laughter as deep silence: Hurry
FORGOTTEN
On my forehead nailed the final image: Angel In your room it crept time which I will not Dreams of the future are stopped: It all happened Where is it avoiding love: Time shudders encountering You kiss me with the taste of mercy and separation silent Insomnia took me around: If I fall asleep you will disappear In your passion only when I get off Fear me forget Thought of the stars is now part of another secret Through my congested head penetrates foreboding letters With a cry of bliss heavens to teach and now How to curb carousel that returns me nothing Creates queues elegies: The soul you do not have me I said. Written by air. Floating: And numb I can no longer wake up source that you hear in Of new secrets in your smile no threshold I suspect not White Angel how to bring up: Whom to please You love me with a taste of green apples: A voice from the darkness You breathe into me with a guise of passion: If you stop While passion and tears I take off heavens deride Through the window of your room disappearing entirely of straw
GLANCE
We watch together how to us are going on Roe to you not weakened in glance dreams Day of departure in scene as it now To awakening just a shot: Color blank With dreams coming back meaning order of winds Do you Battue bode or do you dream The next day I do not accept: Someone is lurking From the nature of fear ringing: You call me Your dream versus storm: Power I know it will happen: If I wake you Roe will fade: In glance who will enter Dream if you interrupt me: It will happen Java Do you exist outside of kindness: They will shoot Donate doe glance and we will certainly
DEPARTURE IN THE WIND
Before sharply entering into the wrist wind I curse them straight: check that smell of mud You will know the immense fertility. And width When you the sky confuse bite bread and silent Travel, until you reach the night. They are thrust the sickle do not, however, like a fire: Listen to the River: are building Created from mud. Split by thunder. That takes if you mist your way around bell catch Wind is a good pass. To take anger The wrist he does not touch: The curse will befall Of baked earth temple built. To shine In the middle of a field which inevitably ever born Travel, if you know who you are: if you remember Cemeteries Write willow and mulberry. Walnut and black locust: Well go In the dream, and I was already dark: Jobs will stop If you go: straight ahead and the stars will swear
END OF FAIRY TALES
Through your room now flows through the stars On my forehead already nailed crumbs of gold As to dreams get involved in time future In our winter fairytale Shakespeare himself is looking One more step and I will become tears: a falling star Passes definitely through time passions Kiss me with a taste for the last morning train Another move and merge it foreign with insomnia Through your room and go down now former star You stand in front of a wall breathless all in silk Spring abandoned I suspect until dawn lights Our fairy tale its writer mislay: No miracles I go through your fascinations: I fall in the blank Although I know very well where you smile silently I close my eyes: From a distance pain copper your skin Through my spine storm a similar disappearing: Holy When we replace the tale: Shakespeare skipped Apple loud now our tenderness breathes: I remember From the window I see in rainbow how to change Maybe we dream too tempting: Bottom tasted
PANIC IN SUMMER
Summer is descended while watching you in motion You carry his body from the glass edge of panic See you intercept needles of reality: Not to my summer I'm talking about you while the palate numb: Hell transparent That is what I drink not a bad time: He hit the blood in the plexus Scattered light you bath: The background and networks are shaking In addition, the air and sand what are you digging it: Energy senses Watch the miracle. It almost touches. Moreover, it all breaks down In the summer I erroneously failed Matter and chemistry similar Your body and my panic: Spacing us only dissolves In your movements crucified the day: The crowd in the background spells out Nobody approached the middle of the beach while you become light With summer chained just wrong, and I dare not know
TEMPORARY SUMMER
Lock in the summer my idea of winter July in flames just noon in city Passing on Wednesday’s weight released hours Blows through me awareness about fire and punishment I say winter does not have the heat subsided Summer must be preceded to be returned With letters reconcile themselves Quite an unusual year by gossip carries a hard mask Ahead of themselves stands reality in a row To set the fire. City of birth that amazed When say summer I know that lie relive True masks just going down shutters Read darkness of the book topped with light I stripped naked letter of July day If I fall asleep in the sun it will seem from the agreement Winter wakes me in whom summer no waiting
CONTENTS WAITING FOR SHIPS Waiting for ships Books and breathing Looking from Hotel Supplemented by memory and beyond that One Saturday Venice Misplaced in Proust The plague of lilac Calendar mortality Life of shorter poems: Vasilyev Recklessly painted Tempting SCENE Caught by the river Tempting the scene City and Garden Autumn and honey People caught A window full of distress Scene GETTING OUT OF THE PICTURE I read Night Time: No less better If there is a [38] Record of poetry Let stone I'm sick over time Water vain Common song Famine in back Rise of the images Travelling to Temporarily summer
Leaving town Usually the morning Sunday in the background ] Leaving the city Not history As a holiday End of memories War Games PICTURES OF FLOWING AGAIN Using images Brain fatigue Pictures: back Escape to reading Kerec cluster is GOING TO THE WIND Your laughter Forgotten View End of fairy tales Going into the wind Panic on flight
CONTENTS
WAITING FOR SHIPS
Waiting for ships Books and breathing Looking from Hotel Supplemented by memory and beyond that One Saturday Venice Misplaced in Proust The plague of lilac Calendar mortality Life of shorter poems: Vasilyev Recklessly painted
Tempting SCENE
Caught by the river Tempting the scene City and Garden Autumn and honey People caught A window full of distress Scene
GETTING OUT OF THE PICTURE
I read Night Time: No less better If there is a] Record of poetry Let stone I'm sick over time Water vain Common song Famine in back Rise of the images Travelling to Temporarily summer
LEAVING TOWN
Usually the morning Sunday in the background ] Leaving the city Not history As a holiday End of memories War Games
PICTURES OF FLOWING AGAIN
Using images Brain fatigue Pictures: back Escape to reading Kerec cluster is
GOING TO THE WIND
Your laughter Forgotten View End of fairy tales Going into the wind Panic on flight Zoran Slavic Biography
Zoran Slavic Biography
1945, Zrenjanin. Serbian) Born in Zrenjanin. In Banat and Vojvodina. Serbian citizen. He graduated the Faculty of Philology in Belgrade. He writes poetry, fiction, literary, theater and art criticism and journalism. Author of many different genres of television projects. Reflected in the form of radio drama. Worked in publishing. Longstanding culture editor of TV Novi Sad. He has published the following books: short story: '' Solitude'' (1972) '' Fire in the bottom of the Summer'' (2007) Novels: '' Jump to insomnia'' (1985),'' The time bites" (1998),'' Back to the solitude'' (2000) and '' Walter Benjamin in intercity bus'' (2011). Poetic books: '' illusion'' of silver (1974), '' RINSE OWN HOMELAND (1982),'' COVERED WITH HISTORY (1995), '' Rise of the images' '(1996),'' GETTING OUT OF THE PAINTING'' (1997),'' Disturbed balance" (1998) and '' A hundred years later'' (2004), A book of essays " WRITING AGAINST OBLIVION'' published in 2005. lives in Zrenjanin. Currently preparing for the Amazon Kindle two books, travel writing, "My European part of the world" and the story collection "The fire is the bottom of the summer," which, in Serbian, already sold on Amazon. As E-books, books in electronic form so far published the following articles:'' MOMENT OF AND EXIT OF (poetry), '' Zrenjanin early works (essays),'' Zrenjanin. TOWN Space in Time'' (visual essays (,'''' Six theater festivals (Essays on Theatre),'' flowed'' weeks (log prose), and'' Diary of Vojvodina 61st festival Theatre and a record of Kolumbini'' (recordings of theater) '' My European part of the world''
(travels) Daily records, surveys essays , travel stories, poetry published on his Facebook Account: https://www.facebook.com/zoran.slavic My mail is [email protected]
The original edition of the book, on paper, they released GNB "Zarko Zrenjanin" Zrenjanin and " Prometheus ", Novi Sad, 1996. year. This is a copyright issue Zoran Slavic, who retains all rights. Zrenjanin, 2013.
LEAVING THE PICTURES
POETRY
ZRENJANIN 2013.
LEAVING THE PICTURES
POETRY
ZORAN SLAVIC
Translation by
Elizabeth Tas
The original edition of the book, on paper, they released GNB "Zarko Zrenjanin" Zrenjanin and " Prometheus ", Novi Sad, 1996. year. This is a copyright issue Zoran Slavic, who
All rights reserved.
Zrenjanin, 2013.
Instead of introduction
It is worth to approach the Slavic poetry. In addition, with this book he is consistent with his poetics. It is single, recognized, authentic voice. From the lonely (almost conspiratorial) companionship with books, allocated to a poetic view of the world and one that requires a complete reader and requires someone like herself to understanding the range or if you like, a cluster of metaphors, those fundamental, deep, spherical metaphor which in our poetry at the end of the century that we find in our little poet. The poems in this book disclose another side of Slavic poetic personality. They are full of existence anxieties. For reviews poet Milan Nenadic
In the book "LEAVING THE PICTURES " (1996), in which, through simulation prolonged state of anxiety, through the senses and the rhythmic scope of life and literature of the burned ruins reading, the poet manages to make a new exit personal, from what is, metaphorically speaking, only picture what is the time to embrace in visible and concrete, watching behind the masks final, the poet reveals his round trip through a temporary summer.
Nenad Saponja, writer
WAITING FOR SHIPS
WAITING FOR SHIPS
With Camus is waiting ships at return My Mediterranean remained in its summer They took away my past: Sea that I know He is not even close: From friable the tide waves My despair chanting in the distance of memories Still manage to bring up for him: to act out I remember only one image: no other Smell it dominates: The sky is finished Ships and still not come: we are just waiting Even in death, which is the light coming noisier? You are its Mediterranean brought on a flash It hurts me sea while with river interpreting the plain Did you finish all: enough walked? Did summer explode when you despair ended Black dress of cloth at the end of the sentence Can I Strangers on my ship to call I lost two seas: Once at the bottom I walk Another in my memory does not have: Record left
BOOK AND BREATHING
The book fell into my interruption of breathing Gloomy garden: a piece of grass. Wood and walls Rows lost meaning: Heaven is reduced Pages dipped in gray: Words abduction is I will breathe tomorrow I am reading today: I do not write I misplaced somewhere rhythm: Sartre and nausea From the window watch the idle soul: miracle Something happened to the man: On disease resembles From the book like a shudder sneak out butterfly Murdered souls staring: Each in his dark I would like to determine its own position Turned off the sky: My word illuminates: Destiny The hands look: As of books That is dirty: From the work that touch at a time What the book mocks in my scant garden It spoils the breathing while scenery sets
LOOKING FROM THE HOTEL
Again and increasingly feel that time leaks under the skin I observe gone wild plants at the bottom of of the manhole: Owl From my face still glowing summer while quietly grow old: Now it will In Depth transport wrinkled men: And sunset After Joyce provincial uproar me cold and dirty All the light still patched body trembling From the hotel looking life molds and others: Go away A city that is not Dublin ready for lust and dream Itching of the street surrounds my room: And someone shouts Destroyed, and all of the former liberty and books The thirst I feel like an in front of a firing squad: Video Hidden in the shadow of someone else's letter: Time throws up: Come
THE UPGRADED MEMORIES AND FUTHER THAN THAT
Wild Eyes: My spoil from the labyrinth: And the beast I was only in reading anticipating a warning: Rabies On the changed landscape pour out the bile In the forest near the river net fell: Singing contagion In Spaces hampered of memories sky came down Dream from the other side: Ribs: Everything was curdled A broken clocks full time buried Follow me as Arabal care cemeteries Shake off the sweat of history but not me luck At home I feel windows me press: Read The sky was already quite low and dull: And buzzing About moonlight dispersed by voice: Still silent Word is decay through on homeland: Sleep when it is not It smells violets lead hidden under the black ball It would be a pain too deep, the fear that I will The past that me do not recognize: Be silent today: Tomorrow is not From the circle of the wise error runaway me arrive at the doorstep In nature not know how: My house thawed: With words were
ONE SATURDAY
While the heat clears all shades Sweat does not know for thought and beauty Again talking about Camus, Algeria: The sun His mind me remember the Hyperboreans Oversize Light seduces him: Took Saturday early afternoon: Day less desperate than Sunday Television without control crushing reality The more channels increased dullness drips July is like that forever: Shower silent Overall spoiled taste of sand: White: Incandescent Roared the car down the street: Camus hurry Reconciliation with destiny to meet Despair is understood by the end Saturday is Date deeply the month The only anxiety to spare: No others Newspapers cleared of war still crying It is all right: Only makes no sense Your instant death, my Albert Camus More suited to The Northern bard Although Leopardi evoke: Cavafy also However, who will it shades of When you preface death dictates Only the sun all the difference reduces to absurdity The July Saturday: Wars still live last for Insidious and ever: Television has not loved them anymore
SAY VENICE BUT I THINK ELEGY
When someone dies Venice has got serious Through the Grand Canal sediment solemn walks On the ferry fasting sun strikes the back of the head The thought came to me that neither of the windows will not Death in Venice no matter how far: Command A bunch of lacy history irony secreted When I left home I prayed to god In the chaos of the divine St. Mark's Square was silent In Murano glass a contorted sorrow for tomorrow As for the bottom all sludge miserable wakes In my dream still dying neighbor not arrives Doge's palace I quietly wear future corpse I cannot in conscience even the thought of Man: Death In Venice, this time not for me: I have Miles away your own sorrows End of summer: Tintoretto Paradise: boat goes back
LOST IN PROUST
If I open the door gush out events How to file from Proust more enlarge Outside like everything is broken: noise ratio Odette is lying but with lots of sweet music If I copy a page aroma cannot On the Boulevard someone ran across the driveway Are you on her observes masking There is going to be nevertheless: And I cannot escape I feel rebuff: While outside taking my Hear swing crossed distance: Swan In my room I walled up: When will it disclose Someone in the elevator scream: Breathe with intermittent Sirens and then a silence: Did not survive This is not my event: Linden tea On the other side of the door just a simple day Maybe I was too harsh to Odette: Summer While outside force me warnings I have to invent something bitter enough Proust to put off until the storm passes And as I've misplaced the taste of pure pain
DANGER FROM LILACS
Why even have a name Lilacs do not like Not for April when it earth wake Yet he picturesque way out of winter The sound of the wood-flower I hear black In the back yard. At neighbor's wall White. Purple. Blue: It grew a dense lilac I remember the smell through which view Cemetery Now to me directly in slimy sorrow push Window. Backyard too. I always sunset Lilac continually. As the eternally April Disease. Punishment. I have all of them that recovered from In the jug flowers commemorating to solitude I Like Eliot: The Waste Land: A corpse in the garden Lready lets sprouts: Because I do not like lilacs Bloomed in my yard. Again escaped winter I will let the dog come to him: Let him mark
MALFUNCTION IN THE CALENDAR
The time involved in extinction Calendar is silent: Fog The anguish of my head starting with the clock: Song What to say when down the Danube Milos goes again: Slim Years are confused murder of minutes: Sumatra Lament is completely broken the crux of the hour Iron anything: Shut up I feel in my head strangeness sand: No more my soul Feuding with the times through mists of his I sail Odysseus song threw me on the beach with algae On our way through Tuscany, I lost the crucial citation Time taken hold of me around the neck: Pariah back dreams Slim forever he defies the calendar: Rain fell asleep My passion with Clock I pay with my head: Knowledge has sunk
SHORT LIFE OF SONGS: VASILJEV
Over your Kikinda now cloud forever young As a runaway soul is silent In undress with the person you Turned into a cry of flames The flag of defeat dissolved your life: However, here you have I sing you desire that life with the day to day Becomes broader: Dawns despite Carry in your alleys little white Of morning dew: Blood you know how I In addition, milk to dull colors Čenej banished from reality: Read. Remember: Backwards because you must Banat hard night what dreams are tame: The war will tread tomorrow: And today you also Through Kikinda provided can I pass your poem entitled: You are a boy and man: Life comets There is always a war that after singing: Whether musical people will be left over Cloud your sails everywhere and fog so our: Periphery of the world: Always work for others While reading your year: Cosmos morning: I think that you did not even stay overnight A quiet death in the middle of the night you met: You fear it has nonetheless become: I am writing on a blank Until you come to have of meeting Djura and Crnjanski calling: Relatives you’re Panon: You know Dull blade and incurable war song In reality called permanent: mobilized forever Your verses with all meat fallen away: With the skeleton clean bunt talking and crying Sumrakovac and Galicia come: Jakšić and Milos: Banat our damned whirling Whenever you dreamed your dream broke down: Breath and soul disappeared Returning you just dread and cracked voice: Moreover, you just wanted air Neither roof nor good young naked white women:
Only the stars and stationary circle Only that yellow woman closely follows: In life: And after death, whether Our Banat, my Dusan, shelter fertility and sadness: Screech and drug Consolation to you should not: Your desperation is light liberated itself If ever I meet somewhere on the road your hospital stench: Voice shameful day multiplied Means that barbed wire directly In your heart leads me time In Stevancev pond grows a tree: Acacia all in the fire: Just scream My life would extend to today: To stay here, room for dreamers All the songs you come to me: only the verse you want: You sing the pain stumble: Always after the war Awning word: While we are talking cloud free sky: However, you still have As long as man's mother cry
PAINTED RECKLESSLY
Talking about autumn: foot worn and tasteless: Wax I photographed unadvisedly: Reading Michelangelo As I walked through the scene from the movie: Far and escape Sonnets in the meantime: Park obsessed with gray: tied Rain pouring directly into my life: with tongue kiss As I've always passed by: Florence from the left An autumn and deep. Film in the absence of meaning Shake verse: He sings about the soul: The body. Masks. Hammer Thicken this autumn: From fog Crnjanski writes: Spleen I fall in the citation: What will not want to be happy: Buonarroti Another would be to finish always better. In park camera is lurking II will not yet in sight: From the depths of Santa Croce: Hand Bite me thought a haunted brethren: Migration of the blind: They go From all my knowledge only fatigue: Milos’s photo: Dafina A friend Buonarroti - Tommaso. Footworn history and Sistine stress In movie entering used birds: Autumn floods me: Ink He says: Send to light, sprightly instruct him: Isakovic were Sky vulgarized to the hair roots: I breathe the winds biliary I keep quiet. Autumn and me: Poets intercept a film about everyday As a passer I write the time: Somewhere frescoes wander
TEMPTING THE SCENE
ENCOUNTERED ON THE RIVER
Among these shores thick and deep water Banat coast I breathe in the rugged Twilight Something river confused: Heaven wet: Sleepy Tisa River persistently and daily green-yellow In soul gazing I wear burnt wreckage In the mid abstained water barges pass by What is now burned floats freely Lie down willow in the face of soft Tisa: Clouds go As the constant migration I remember this river In any whirlpool wild equestrian sleeps My loneliness downstream of the staging take notes My insomnia Tisza not to settle down If I remove the whether the color will change If it was twilight heals Wreck fall asleep On the bank of the Banat am sliding into pure soul When I fall asleep all will sink into darkness
Tempting the SCENE
The horse in the race: Bottom former long: A picture will not Wakening bathed by glass fog. The hoof in the dew: Race Someone writes density day that still kneeling: Will hurt Going back in July. Cut a slice of pain With horse’s scenery testing you: Speed against end White bird. Clean of life. Wrong: Landed The voice broke touching me. Only a slight sting in the soul It all fits Colors. Day. Creeps: But it is too deserted Picture know who wait: Back to descended time In horse my poem: Message: As a bullet: From serenity Matures summer the middle of the grass. Get down thirst: Wait: watch for Then changes begin. Horse raising oneself. Day stand For the birds spilled the roses: Thunder heaven opens her mouth Grass hums. The bees. Wind. Bird gutted: The ant At the bottom of the former sea morning I left Rainstorm Smells trace spade: Path through tomorrow: Noon stopped The horse jumped from: One who lurks tighten the string Wind crumpled air: I must be dreaming because all burn When the bird: Space when closed: Then the horse Image betrayed: Poem in it: I left and there is no me
TOWN AND GARDEN
In the former center of the city at the time set on: Garden For all kinds of power languishes framed nature: Alone When Banat goes mad from the heat there to get away With Baroque it Gentry a shot of her sides: Only sky sees it The fountain. Peacock. Stone lions: The gentry of every kind Around Town is multiplied: County Prefect is napping and digested Rebellion will be poured out: Fire clean up all the space Follow the Austro-Hungarians: White coffee and milihbrot Drop forged Iron Gate: dully look through the stained glass Wars in the garden just relax A Little Night Music Sometimes wanders into a classy afternoon hasty scream In the basement of the County a very insignificant fight On the balcony while history is simulated Garden silent Knows that distance in the plane how it all ends The city transforms. Begej there: In the garden changes House cleaners walk in the late afternoon: Viennese Music With the new Righteous garden folded to: Shrivel Enter people who only ever from the outside dared to stare The shine comes off: And time is: Lions dirty: And stork Baroque facade rain washed more garden maintained by the sky fallen Time of style liberated for garden writing new account Peacocks flew City hoarse: No gold fish All desires are fulfilled: No more nobility: People Still alive: They not even know why: A Garden: Despite there is
AUTUMN AND HONEY
I discovered early in the morning-sugared honey Roe deer are from the fog running straight towards the sun In my body autumn still appeared with a chill On the concrete track that morning sprinkled with ice Fasting field full of blackbirds jumped: Frost spoon I can hardly sip to taste a flight of summer The sky is getting cold. Grasses have obeyed a threat On the side road a scarecrow road sign painting Through the Window: People wait in a group Look up in the air: Bus passes: He is not In Tea honey: Day melts no rain In the autumn entered for images calendar Moreover, it all started with candied honey. In addition, ice Doe have invited from memory: The fog your Do my friend painter people lend me? Wind grass. Birds color. Scarecrow is from the book By honey I feel metallic taste: The bite spoons Tomorrow I will know it is autumn skipped: Winter In addition, darkness what to announce our lunch: Paint Me with what you are waiting for we are all let down
CAUGHT PEOPLE
Over pictures Zdravko Mandic
What these people hunt in the fog Banat What or whom never to know: Or not The reverse of the landscape somewhere in autumn hour While sirens painter change into the heavy net Ice what over water invisible agrees The boats of woven cobwebs in the air holding Painter it only dream of eternal back browses Hunting fish in the airy darkness shortened tomorrow Coming ashore frozen human scenery Their margins without a face with water to soften Planted in a haze suffer the in silence disappearing Painter they just they just the skill of deletion keeps a watchful With one color and two nuances of empty he writes Group solitude that horizon-forming premonition With Fog whether they feed all hunger mythical what is coming Waiting movement people caught painter remember
WINDOW FULL OF TROUBLES
My window tonight will absorb directly into the wind And west of the city sprinkled with dense yields Roars uncooked smell of rain The path of the Tisza suddenly thickens no back Tractors in the series jumped from dusk Transported eyes in which fatigue calls the least The wind room in sail turns: Only where On the other side of where they came from: It makes no sense Wearing these people let down their hill alienated Through field slowed and day with evenings confused The window is louder wetting me with a dark change Stretch to Pannonia: Remember the deep: the new Misery Rain is not my view that closes before sunset I had just put together a room and thought: Again bang Tractors full and bottomless people disject Tears are ashamed and river completely degraded If you write your injury do the morning faster Or maybe the plains when he wakes up all know How to expel builds your soul centennial My window to finally remember the clear blue sky
SCENE ON THE EDGE OF DREAMS
(By Zdravko Mandic)
It remembers the scene in the sands of inky water On ash mainland where disembarking the new Argonauts
In a blue mists only molds for some quests out of mind The evaporated core of rock and freezes in the direction of horror parturition Moreover, all of this: the sight suffering from a similarity of elements In round and provisional figures peaked curiosity Hunger of nature the graphic presses retract with velum morning The gamma of rust horizon thoughts material that does not breathe Only cloud Neptune tip in the inky sea dares Slip Egg yolk with careless heaven: Revive Stone: The sound Forms readily waiting for high tide and rain: Stone wants to fly The scene awaiting to life decide: Light or dark Neither the artist does not know who will: None Hand: Do not know when: And why
LEAVING THE PICTURE
AS I READ NIGHT
Instead of books night alone I try to leaf through I feel her ribs. Read midnight cars Light mild stand up. I fell over the line In sleep alone sediment childhood spills San flourishing in the dust in the street and the heat Old cut awakened creak: Again narcosis Recovering from which sleepy to build Distance When the fire overtakes me all the letters of the year I know that day usual section between nights is All I remember tonight from the book go to the city Then under miscellaneous follows morning train newspaper I write in defense. Last days in song back
TIME: NO BETTER: NEITHER MY
I see out of breath how to ice me catching the tail Own thoughts: mute touch unknown Pure nonsense: Shallow: Calm: Mortally Sip: Day and sludge trap me A color that sieves: Blunt: Wandered off While I sinking but it is not mine The landscapes of the soul: Breathing: War and me Distracted: Black: torn apart: Time Pale curtains on the spine hanging: Our general hospital Operation: Open dream pain Shame and opium him tame In warrior masked Death is a guest Today and one day longer: Environment her known During the breaks speeches run: Comedy Our faces were powdered: Bones By force of man together near: ancestorhappens In emptiness clock is ticking skull Cold-blooded our is panic My head and images from the screen: Storm The force is pressed: Remember color: Noise alone My time: no better: Neither my Outside occurs wounds caused About the winter thought shortened search Words: Poison them occupying and frost Ballet writers have embraced Operetta general In the archives of allocation busy: Premiere All History in pictures: our Hogpen Whom for neck: Deceived and innocent A voice from nowhere: the late soul
For the one who started it all: Who wants to know: The truth was long ago defined: In confusion resident our homeland I remain silent: I measure: how we deep surely We return and we are not better
IF THERE IS A
If there is a soul of which is owned Do you like the morning or jug of sleep Do's and those heartless: Or Maybe it is just a place for all the pain Does the soul have a special alphabet The growth of the use of poetry: Love Do traces remain in the eternity From the hasty use of your life You may bathe before you leave us: And Whether breathe: Do the with beauty feed Bodies from crossing into the light If there is: the soul is just like a child
FILMING POETRY
All around autumn: Poets camera follows Boards. Nets. Tool. He says: Poetry walk His record in threadbare clothes: The intimacy of the mind In canes see nature traveling: The breath: Spirit Stones him grew in the garden: simple words Autumn transparent. Orchard and sky gutted Ashes poet tames them: The Earth is in the voice of They would like to see drama: Twilight: Cut He sees in magic root and fruit: Wine The journalist insisted on poetics: A Childhood Opened the throat of whom leaking dark: Magic Spotlight poet nailed to the wall: Preface The shack nervousness: The camera cannot see inside a dream Outside, in the darkness of autumn rearranged. Moreover, be silent Lights disfigured face: All by him now look like Poets in the end change clothe however in ceremony site
WHEN STONE FLIES
I throw stones deep shot up in the air To him weight relieves and let the spirit I saw a parachute full of nothing: The man Rock would fly away. Density to reduce A man held in the air that coming down It is certain that will down: Has here habit Somewhere: While my strength is Meeting With stone that is temporarily free Man that drop the pilot and I maintaining The parachute only cures for disbelief Stone conspiring with his hand tempts flight In all, however, is an elementary consciousness I imagined so that stone pay homage to His suffering in the short illusion to paint When they saw: A man and a deceived heavier My melancholy would just smile Will end in the earth: The fall is free If the stone rolled away: It will be easier for him: Weight In addition, it hurts like this: Operate density yet Miss by yourself passion fractured awareness
TROUBLE WITH TIME
It invades me clock to the point of insanity: Flowing I feel how it has thought undressing me. Peel Time bivouac crucifies me and change: Weft By negligence chapter on measures I wound with the number of Lever-arm my from last life calls out: Genes Read air and milled powder lunges: The Collapse Cloudless day my room cat while the clock defies Idea clock will keep silent about tomorrow: The Fall Father's time back melts. Dedication surrounds me I head to grips with the clock catches: Count Who knows how far I'll get me a clear day while crashes I cheated dreams. Clock outwitted me: Who measures the Hours
WATER WITHOUT MEANING
I came deep in color that no lines: Waves My drawing does not recognize olives and cemeteries of Breath Pictures what I close at heart and paint with douche: Sea From within and long fire and defeat: Boat forgets me: In vain water: Through the empty reaches. Defense is sail Coming debt navigation without conditions: Bottom embrace me Waves are unwound. Depth dulled. Color shallow Although I know that the sea is not. It has a manuscript Drawing what olives will not gasps for my voice. Wait Cemetery it will bring you there when the dream goes out On photos Sea swells. Wasted water me hours measure Memory when knock on the sky the blood and salt will recognize Palms disclose treason. Heal the tide. No longer valid Became silent calls. I would go for the sound of a deep color In vain I have a boat. Drawing is impassable. At the bottom the cross Empty place for yesterday. Today it overlay the dark
A COMMON SONG
In start rainstorm: Crude sprinkles me nausea How do you pronounce the beginning with them disappearing distance Downpour breathes loudly: In threads me watching the sky My departure to right ruined roof already looks like They are quite in anger turned aside: Speech them is full patch The sun and I have been sober all: Downpour left us Anguish the call her: They stiffly up to the door It would look like a walk that the landscape is not covered with Where the sun would be: Permanent holes there Language us mother gets in the way: only: I see them Letters to dry in the air: Disasters distance left In random house set table: You need to pray I dare to say: The host passion my alone supported House without walls: The silence tempts us: soul to rise When with the song common try rhyme us be of distinction scare
HUNGER IN BACK
When this happens: Jump out of Screech alone We will become the seeds and open a number of forms Moreover, as good as the sky soaked in milk: Bread From moonlight irregular hidden: Children taken Already know how to be silent while whiteness is multiplied When this happens: Letters to panic Assault and hunger Closed on the agreement and fear: Free fall The movement will slow us no trace: Circle Illness from memory, and path of all the angles: Where From country cold: We write all deleted days When this happens: Mouth of colors numerically: Black In milk failed to take our word memory of pain On the go behind the movement: Kiss dead mother A Cry in the bread rushes> Form at the end of types In the belly of bird seed speechless: In place left over When this happens: In the back we agree famine
LEAVING THE PICTURES
It rings alarm bells: Last call is The gray hanging family pictures disappear In the underground: Childhood breathing where: Damage Vanish road signs and waiting rooms In the middle of a jump message me stumble: Turn If I come back the other side will disappear Jump if I continue image will not survive I decide to stay in the air forever Wake-up call though stuffiness my past Ring as the last: Gray. A lot of gray I am cold while floating and remember a picture Protected by the realization that the only eternal fall Abnormally caught in space: Jump head Eyesight bringing into question: Or the snapshot changes Empty the family picture: About me confusion Remain: All go: Not Down: Up: Maybe: Take If quite extinguish memory: Can be left
JOURNEY IN CIRCLE
When we returned I definitely know: To ship in a bottle is the only true end of the world Passengers on it will see even the final image The truth behind the glass looks dull but is permanent Closed in magic substances are distorts: Pale in They think: Wood and skillful hands that are headed for there Moreover, greed that believe in the end of the world: Nevertheless Their limited life of the wind is no longer dependent: Glass protects them Our path to the remote alone asphyxia reasoning We did not recognize him: We remembers the fever To reach the goal might be able: But why Coast this where it ends: Beginning is going Master at least that learning while ship bottle entrusts Transparent pointy headed light us in failure Our is travel skills and sense missing While the master job ends we staring at the sky Again we on the road and everything was within easy reach
TEMPORARILY SUMMER
Fix it in summer my idea of winter Jul burn out exactly noon in the city Passing through the day weight released hours Blowing through my mind on fire and punishment Pronounce winter would not the heat subsided Summer must precede that would return With letters darkness tames themselves quite unusual Year whom accelerates carries a hard mask In front they stand reality in a row That I set fire. City of birth that amazed When I say summer know that lie caller True masks just descend all shatters I read the darkness of the book topped with light I stripped naked with a letter of July day If I fall asleep in the sun l will be marked out of a deal Awaken me winter in who summer no waiting
LEAVING TOWN
ORDINARY MORNING
The cry of silence lurks behind shaven faces: Do no one awake I put lotion instead of morning sweat in the trench: Neither History forgotten me roughly: Travels and grins the We are all dared while it lasted. They said it was so As we shot into the sky. Dirty. Unshaven. The borrowed Still we waited for ordinary things. Another ride away From bathrooms to go out skinned. Drama of sleeping pills I'm asking about the wall which should be: with whom: and why: jump Through the gate me escape fear. Water and soap thinned cheek How mild morning and the sun were is at the top of the minefield Stench burned-out attack. Heaven only scratch. I am yours The night was easier: Start off now shall I. Day unforgiving Where everything is unreal razor and the shots were ours In trapped bathrooms usually lurking morning: No more history
SUNDAY IN THE BACKGROUND
An ordinary soldier and wounded. Before sunrise Stands framed in a scream. Listens to fear: Breathes Expelled from the body of civil putting out the horror of the morning The window should be lifted. Children, however, see Death or disgrace crawling along the bed: Sunday A soldier from the night train arrived and wrinkled How do we tell him that our guests are coming. Indeed In vain: Unshaven does not understand us: The sun He would say something, but does not understand that we have forgotten Then you go down the street wounded. To restore happiness His walk pales. All he knew: We only here are no Why is it so unshaven? Sundays. In the background
LEAVING TOWN
We climb the mountains: Again and with difficulty City of depth we spoiled: Crumpled Ascent us is urgent: As if the same us prosecute Yet we see it: All bruised from forgiveness Fresh air and morning. In your pocket News Some shoots back. I took sick Dirty and peeled but ours For those that stayed drop curses One takes "From" and hides it: Snake From stone silent changing climate: Rubble I fell upon cough of mind floods came Abandoned city still breathing: Habit left with The bottle goes from mouth to mouth: Empty throw We highly: On news bacon and onions The one that hides the book looks in depth City are punished: their soul now starts Playing Do I have to: I brought phonebook Over his shoulder: Headlines in old newspapers We left it as a dirty shirt Man's "From." City rolled up. In the song cry
NOT HISTORY
Is not human history what fooled me now Dawn every ordinary the things revolt demolished Or maybe it drama becomes quite continuous It happens continue nuisance centuries: Life rebels Futile I know that this is part of a general war, which will pass It became dull. Sense when will to wake up I don't leave the issue easily removed wall Breath to revive me when they pass through threats: Children and fear Time as is dead again: History reduced to two letters With the horse still see and easier to die: Walk planes Fatigue forbidding conditions. Fear sunbathing touted In you I have now read that again to build memories It was easy while living fast: By command of the soul Times uncomfortable traveling on someone else's expense Of recently everyone has to do for himself: To survive Now living feats address has a number, pain, and pride
AS A FEAST
Jump beyond the tiresome of silence I go in mid Holidays: Taste me hard Flags were driving me into the sun: Speeches A man without style: Dates dropping to his belt In addition, I could with boredom in step: And a smile At midday I get that. On the other hand day To wait a comforting thought: no more tomorrow Dates intercepted me. Of speakers escaped Moreover, holiday struggles: The flag is not recognized In the name-breathing dream they awoke: How anew I came too close to the event: The time is late Pass some cyclists: Not in history A man in a suit by calling: disorders language Caught in the story seem to believe: No speech Perhaps the and all this was: Children brought flowers I still taste fasting: Loud and empty Holiday to shrivel somewhere between the flags From the sun I stealthily one date hides: Man with speech This number does not need more Me error at least will
END OF MEMORIES
It is hard to say: We have no more memories In addition, what is left better not When we started on the game looked like Move a few dates. The victim figures History and we also like over numbered We did not draw. Only deleted. Beautifying The employer is only occasionally suggested No use to lie: We dated nice The smell of rot has occasionally bothered We are sinking day and night. The three of us courageous Through the graveyard of noise and fury possessed Historian. Poet. Politician: A lonely any We rewrote for another: And for your soul Hidden behind Lord we tried the power Up to the elbows in history we forget With the gods caught up in consumer fraud When they dried up memories: Trio cracked On fingers remained color, blood, gilding: Lie Politician the short memory lucky Knowing who writes historian easily survive The poet is greedy heart in head moved Tried a day to translate into the language of the soul Let down him punished Time to sign death All he verse mentions it burns out until dawn Them either neither do we any more shelter: Awake In reality we spend our days: And to know
WAR GAMES
On screen the game explodes: The computer is fighting me Count the bodies. Killed were annulled: The sum From the kitchen the smell of reheated weekend: Beer My black and white monitor undressing story of the bones Blood is so black. Gray sky. Heroes colorless With more money color would be closer to the blood: But A step me machine draw. At the door by mistake ring I spend time with other people. Faster. In addition, the battle is others From Living room Bosnia is leaking through the screen. In color Dripping water in the sink. A man shouts from the elevator The Game is rushing me. Minutes decline. Dark drizzly Shooting planes. I have another life. Bad News Nervous swallow. Conspiracy of televisions and computers From one to another is transferred intrigue. Midnight Down shutting apparatus. Intentions they remain in the room: Anger Death I missed in my sleep dragged bomb While screens are silent Game scatters me. The war lurks In the dense darkness bed fills up double nightmare Man shoots and hits the middle of the day tomorrow
PARIAH DOG S GRAPES
Maybe not for the song: Pariah dogs grapes Juice his purple as a seal last for As if today fingertips scrub They never ask: What and only finds Low enough. The dog has just reached Of all flowers and swamp intensity of thick Childhood when digs it just gleam Grow this mess: My herbal spheres However, an even pariah dog is not just an ordinary double In a fine dog on chain does not live luck Owner purple beads only dream Getting wet, when they want. Starving. Wanders. Lucky Dog as the grapes coupled with and barking It is always in the open air: Moon loves Bites. Chidori. He does everything but not lounging The fact that your grapes is not a test does not care Herbal the weeds from the flora lateral teamed May one song that compound to completely ignore They last useless: Create and fruit: Who combine them Devised some pure happiness and those they put together When he came to leave: Evaporate like a dream at dawn
IMAGE FLOWING AGAIN
BRAIN FATIGUE
Not read. Never dreamed of. And there was no Yet I feel unrest and run away the Balkans Nature and the continent falling rebellion The bilingual floods and migration as yeast Who too deep dive into the map will perish Shelters soft. Mediterranean stepped into a dream
Searchers find me still and burn From their own tales of running away is not worth Moreover, I know that Central Europe would have to rise On the Rhine along the Danube packages go frost It is futile to grow onions and violet At a time when the refugees themselves do not resemble Not at all burn to me: I feed only with fire No boundaries: Fear and fatigue creep everywhere Flames of space history all exhausted I read the newspaper confused: Of all silent Europe the thought broke big thirst Wrote. In addition, read a long time. They still got sick
IMAGES AGAIN
From the heat for a long time I tame begin Mallow and cheek While coming from the east, the voices of the making picture Icon bribed. Hide collapse predecessor: Mold Fear of the female figure and shadow divine in a fist While the burning material in the middle of a mud touches me Speaking in passing on some lines. Mainly blue East in pause creates heresy Back in Time: The Gods Moldy wakens me on the cheek convey butterfly: Ramblers On every prayer with a clear mistake: Neither a cure nor life Inbound on the image saying: She's gone and already cursed In temple an icon dried up. Bell started and stopped My annoyance with the fire not to dwindle: Burn my face From mallow tea and silent messengers waiting capitulate and powder Image not convey in words: Who dares: Signs While we talk flowing myrrh east again something bodes: the Core In the fire alone. Coal and anger. Start it came: Who salvation
ESCAPE IN LITERATURE
Voices me temporary vet: City at the bottom Track from the book: More pure and upright. Human. Shadow Richard was having lunch in the station restaurant. Same city When sounds aging I now it is near colorless as rust In addition, nothing unusual: a bland inexpensive meal in a restaurant Tin plate is silent. Nobody is asking: Cry from the book His shadow on the wall. Waiting for me. Twilight in the suburbs I am going to hive then silence. Voices are aligned I know the book: Still rough hinder me tidbits: a foreign language Restaurant lost the station. The double me pushing from imagination The title is accurate. Translation may be: The city is brutally dismantles Voices are pouring into the former sentence: Give me back my child I need a bath. Fold mark. Find at least station Perhaps the writer traveled by train: Richard does not know anything City of voices that lasts and people eat quickly Tin plate left: the Balkans swallow the American night
EXCURSION TO THE SHRINE
Climb completely convinced the night before Covering their eyes to the environment: The Dormition As you read only simple signs: They think No one they no preceded. Like to pray While watching me seems really: But Clothing and tag me yet Revolt: The trip Golgotha: But why waving hands: While Breathe rapidly: be baptized: Hold the book They climb out of breath: Ecstasy expectations Wreaths around their heads: Nike Sneakers and Cameras Climb as strange coming down: Up only Flashing fake: Sale the postcards Some saw that as: All recognized Soon wills Sunrise: By day no miracles: Yet Committed kill the other: Exercise of religion I am a witness: The sky was near: But the goal But the goal is supported: From the rain sound dumb grow I went with them and incense can: Like excursions The music almost right while going down: Matins In addition, killed returning: Forgiven them: Do not do again
GOING TO THE WIND
YOU’RE LAUGHTER
For mother Now I know that it was not cheerful The laughter through your kitchen door As we entered with creaking floor: Key Your skin was white as a gap Like you are telling us behind the mask How exceed what veins Serenity has a nicer color: Laughter hides He was your silent cry and warning You are encased in laughter: With coercion in his voice Coming from outside the scene have turned off There was no joy in your half-light The only optimism watched off the wall The child in the picture. The eyes of pure joy When we walked away as if we running away You would issue sometimes smile without coverage Your hand was silent: Sleeping song How to love those who are sufficiently close Creaking is still when we were late The child looked at us with a clean serenity Your laughter as deep silence: Hurry
FORGOTTEN
On my forehead nailed the final image: Angel In your room it crept time which I will not Dreams of the future are stopped: It all happened Where is it avoiding love: Time shudders encountering You kiss me with the taste of mercy and separation silent Insomnia took me around: If I fall asleep you will disappear In your passion only when I get off Fear me forget Thought of the stars is now part of another secret Through my congested head penetrates foreboding letters With a cry of bliss heavens to teach and now How to curb carousel that returns me nothing Creates queues elegies: The soul you do not have me I said. Written by air. Floating: And numb I can no longer wake up source that you hear in Of new secrets in your smile no threshold I suspect not White Angel how to bring up: Whom to please You love me with a taste of green apples: A voice from the darkness You breathe into me with a guise of passion: If you stop While passion and tears I take off heavens deride Through the window of your room disappearing entirely of straw
GLANCE
We watch together how to us are going on Roe to you not weakened in glance dreams Day of departure in scene as it now To awakening just a shot: Color blank With dreams coming back meaning order of winds Do you Battue bode or do you dream The next day I do not accept: Someone is lurking From the nature of fear ringing: You call me Your dream versus storm: Power I know it will happen: If I wake you Roe will fade: In glance who will enter Dream if you interrupt me: It will happen Java Do you exist outside of kindness: They will shoot Donate doe glance and we will certainly
DEPARTURE IN THE WIND
Before sharply entering into the wrist wind I curse them straight: check that smell of mud You will know the immense fertility. And width When you the sky confuse bite bread and silent Travel, until you reach the night. They are thrust the sickle do not, however, like a fire: Listen to the River: are building Created from mud. Split by thunder. That takes if you mist your way around bell catch Wind is a good pass. To take anger The wrist he does not touch: The curse will befall Of baked earth temple built. To shine In the middle of a field which inevitably ever born Travel, if you know who you are: if you remember Cemeteries Write willow and mulberry. Walnut and black locust: Well go In the dream, and I was already dark: Jobs will stop If you go: straight ahead and the stars will swear
END OF FAIRY TALES
Through your room now flows through the stars On my forehead already nailed crumbs of gold As to dreams get involved in time future In our winter fairytale Shakespeare himself is looking One more step and I will become tears: a falling star Passes definitely through time passions Kiss me with a taste for the last morning train Another move and merge it foreign with insomnia Through your room and go down now former star You stand in front of a wall breathless all in silk Spring abandoned I suspect until dawn lights Our fairy tale its writer mislay: No miracles I go through your fascinations: I fall in the blank Although I know very well where you smile silently I close my eyes: From a distance pain copper your skin Through my spine storm a similar disappearing: Holy When we replace the tale: Shakespeare skipped Apple loud now our tenderness breathes: I remember From the window I see in rainbow how to change Maybe we dream too tempting: Bottom tasted
PANIC IN SUMMER
Summer is descended while watching you in motion You carry his body from the glass edge of panic See you intercept needles of reality: Not to my summer I'm talking about you while the palate numb: Hell transparent That is what I drink not a bad time: He hit the blood in the plexus Scattered light you bath: The background and networks are shaking In addition, the air and sand what are you digging it: Energy senses Watch the miracle. It almost touches. Moreover, it all breaks down In the summer I erroneously failed Matter and chemistry similar Your body and my panic: Spacing us only dissolves In your movements crucified the day: The crowd in the background spells out Nobody approached the middle of the beach while you become light With summer chained just wrong, and I dare not know
TEMPORARY SUMMER
Lock in the summer my idea of winter July in flames just noon in city Passing on Wednesday’s weight released hours Blows through me awareness about fire and punishment I say winter does not have the heat subsided Summer must be preceded to be returned With letters reconcile themselves Quite an unusual year by gossip carries a hard mask Ahead of themselves stands reality in a row To set the fire. City of birth that amazed When say summer I know that lie relive True masks just going down shutters Read darkness of the book topped with light I stripped naked letter of July day If I fall asleep in the sun it will seem from the agreement Winter wakes me in whom summer no waiting
CONTENTS WAITING FOR SHIPS Waiting for ships Books and breathing Looking from Hotel Supplemented by memory and beyond that One Saturday Venice Misplaced in Proust The plague of lilac Calendar mortality Life of shorter poems: Vasilyev Recklessly painted Tempting SCENE Caught by the river Tempting the scene City and Garden Autumn and honey People caught A window full of distress Scene GETTING OUT OF THE PICTURE I read Night Time: No less better If there is a [38] Record of poetry Let stone I'm sick over time Water vain Common song Famine in back Rise of the images Travelling to Temporarily summer
Leaving town Usually the morning Sunday in the background ] Leaving the city Not history As a holiday End of memories War Games PICTURES OF FLOWING AGAIN Using images Brain fatigue Pictures: back Escape to reading Kerec cluster is GOING TO THE WIND Your laughter Forgotten View End of fairy tales Going into the wind Panic on flight
CONTENTS
WAITING FOR SHIPS
Waiting for ships Books and breathing Looking from Hotel Supplemented by memory and beyond that One Saturday Venice Misplaced in Proust The plague of lilac Calendar mortality Life of shorter poems: Vasilyev Recklessly painted
Tempting SCENE
Caught by the river Tempting the scene City and Garden Autumn and honey People caught A window full of distress Scene
GETTING OUT OF THE PICTURE
I read Night Time: No less better If there is a] Record of poetry Let stone I'm sick over time Water vain Common song Famine in back Rise of the images Travelling to Temporarily summer
LEAVING TOWN
Usually the morning Sunday in the background ] Leaving the city Not history As a holiday End of memories War Games
PICTURES OF FLOWING AGAIN
Using images Brain fatigue Pictures: back Escape to reading Kerec cluster is
GOING TO THE WIND
Your laughter Forgotten View End of fairy tales Going into the wind Panic on flight Zoran Slavic Biography
Zoran Slavic Biography
1945, Zrenjanin. Serbian) Born in Zrenjanin. In Banat and Vojvodina. Serbian citizen. He graduated the Faculty of Philology in Belgrade. He writes poetry, fiction, literary, theater and art criticism and journalism. Author of many different genres of television projects. Reflected in the form of radio drama. Worked in publishing. Longstanding culture editor of TV Novi Sad. He has published the following books: short story: '' Solitude'' (1972) '' Fire in the bottom of the Summer'' (2007) Novels: '' Jump to insomnia'' (1985),'' The time bites" (1998),'' Back to the solitude'' (2000) and '' Walter Benjamin in intercity bus'' (2011). Poetic books: '' illusion'' of silver (1974), '' RINSE OWN HOMELAND (1982),'' COVERED WITH HISTORY (1995), '' Rise of the images' '(1996),'' GETTING OUT OF THE PAINTING'' (1997),'' Disturbed balance" (1998) and '' A hundred years later'' (2004), A book of essays " WRITING AGAINST OBLIVION'' published in 2005. lives in Zrenjanin. Currently preparing for the Amazon Kindle two books, travel writing, "My European part of the world" and the story collection "The fire is the bottom of the summer," which, in Serbian, already sold on Amazon. As E-books, books in electronic form so far published the following articles:'' MOMENT OF AND EXIT OF (poetry), '' Zrenjanin early works (essays),'' Zrenjanin. TOWN Space in Time'' (visual essays (,'''' Six theater festivals (Essays on Theatre),'' flowed'' weeks (log prose), and'' Diary of Vojvodina 61st festival Theatre and a record of Kolumbini'' (recordings of theater) '' My European part of the world''
(travels) Daily records, surveys essays , travel stories, poetry published on his Facebook Account: https://www.facebook.com/zoran.slavic My mail is [email protected]
The original edition of the book, on paper, they released GNB "Zarko Zrenjanin" Zrenjanin and " Prometheus ", Novi Sad, 1996. year. This is a copyright issue Zoran Slavic, who retains all rights. Zrenjanin, 2013.
