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boze,
sta da napisem o tome.

to volim da radim,
ponekad od toga zivim.
kad u to gledam:
ponekad sam tuzan,
ponekad sam srecan.

drago lice
vidim kao da je tu.
ruzno,
okrenem, izbrisem
i kao da nije bilo tu.

to je magija
koja vjecno traje.

boze,
samo je vazno da znam
sta ne mogu slikati.

BEOGRAD,
19.08.2011
5.35 PM

poem by Jankovic Zoran
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Doschitai Do Sta

On skazal:ya ustal.
I ego ne vernut.
Ty schitaesh do sta,
Ty mechtaesh usnut.
Ty schitaesh do sta
Sto sluchaynykh imen,
A tebe nado spat I ne dumat o nem,
A tebe nado spat I ne dumat o nem,
A tebe nado spat I ne dumat o nem.
Tvoya lodka pusta
U chuzhikh beregov.
Ty shcitaesh do sta.
Sta russvetnykh snegov.
Eta tema prosta,
Ty zhe znuesh kak byt.
Nado prosto do sta doschitat I zabyt,
Nado prosto do sta doschitat I zabyt,
Nado prosto do sta doschitat I zabyt,
Na-vse-gda
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta.
4 5 6 7 8...
Sta bessonykh nochey
V labirintakh lyubvi.
Sta sluchainykh klyuchey,
A v itoge nuli.
Sta druzey, sta vragov.
Sto rastayavshikh ldin.
Zabyvai pro nego, 101, 101.
Zabyvai pro nego, zabyvay navsegda,
Zabyvai pro nego, zabyvay navsegda,
Na-vse-gda
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta.
59, 60, 61, 62...
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta.
Doschitay, doschitay

song performed by Tatu
Added by Lucian Velea
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Doschitay Do Sta

On skazal:"Ya ustal."
I ego ne vernut'.
Ty schitaesh do sta,
Ty mechtaesh usnut'.
Ty schitaesh do sta
Sto sluchaynykh imen,
A tebe nado spat' I ne dumat' o nem,
A tebe nado spat' I ne dumat' o nem,
A tebe nado spat' I ne dumat' o nem.
Tvoya lodka pusta
U chuzhikh beregov.
Ty shcitaesh do sta.
Sta russvetnykh snegov.
Eta tema prosta,
Ty zhe znuesh kak byt'.
Nado prosto do sta doschitat' I zabyt',
Nado prosto do sta doschitat' I zabyt',
Nado prosto do sta doschitat' I zabyt',
NA-VSE-GDA
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta.
4 5 6 7 8...
Sta bessonykh nochey
V labirintakh lyubvi.
Sta sluchainykh klyuchey,
A v itoge nuli.
Sta druzey, sta vragov.
Sto rastayavshikh l'din.
Zabyvai pro nego, 101, 101.
Zabyvai pro nego, zabyvay navsegda,
Zabyvai pro nego, zabyvay navsegda,
NA-VSE-GDA
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta.
59, 60, 61, 62...
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta,
Doschitay, doschitay, doschitay do sta.
Doschitay, Doschitay.

song performed by Tatu
Added by Lucian Velea
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Zdravo, Moje Ime Je Sara

Moje ime je Sara.
Ja sam ona koja nisam,
koja nikada nisam.
Ovo su ruke za moje zagrljaje.
Osakacene prazninom.
Okrunjene u prstenju koje sumrakom skidam
i u tmine bacam.
One pisu istoriju plasticne igracke
sahranjene u grobovima djetinjstva
koje nije doraslo do kolijevke.

Zovem se Sara.
Ja sam ona koja pokusava da bude.
Ovo su stopala za moje korake.
Ukocene putevima.
Vezana zveketavim nakitom
koji sumrakom skidam i u tmine bacam.

Ona hodaju nepostojecim ulicama
kojima gaze jos samo prividi staza.
Silaze u bunare
da u njima udave
proplivalu nadu za kraj.

Moje ime je Sara.
Ja sam ona koja bi htjela.
Ovo je vrat za vase ruke.
Dotaknite lagano.
Vezan je hiljadama lancica
koje sumrakom skidam
i u tmine bacam.

Ona jedu halapljivo,
krugove u koje sazimam snove
dozvoljavam da dira.
Neka je.

Zovem se Sara.
Ja sam ona koja ne pristaje.
Ovo je kosa za moje pletenice.
U njima trake od srebra
i bisere sjajne sumrakom skidam
i u tmine bacam. Neka ih.

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Hello, my name is Sarah

My name is Sarah
I am the one who is not
Who never is
These are the hands for my embraces
Mutilated in emptiness
Husked in the rings at twilight I take off
And throw into the dark.
They are writing a history of a plastic toy
Buried in the tombs of childhood
That never grew towards a cradle.

My name is Sarah
I am the one who is trying to be
These are the feet for my steps.
Frozen in the paths
Tied by tinkling jewelerry
At twilight I take off
And throw into the dark.

They walk the streets that there are no more
The streets trodden by mere silhouettes of paths
They go down the wells
To strangle in them
A swimming hope for the end.

My name is Sarah.
I am the one who wants.
This is the neck for your hands.
Slightly touch.
It's tied in thousands of necklaces
At twilight I take off
And throw into the dark.

The darkness greedily eats
The circles I push the dreams into
I let it touch.
It's all right.

My name is Sarah.
I am the one who does not consent.
This is the hair for my plaits.
The silver ribbons
And shiny pearls at twilight I take off
And throw it into the dark.
It's all right.

I have broken all the rules
I have broken cliches
Magic circles
I tore the pages

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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That's not it-To nije to

Excuse me sir
You look like someone I've met before
And I am sure it is like that
I'm sure everyone has met everyone before
In what's called preceding lives
Do you believe in that sir
I mean those karmas
Moving along cyclic zodiacs
Made of illiterate stars
Sounds quite familiar to me
A life through trials and errors
I think sir
When I outstretch the palm of my hand
(Do not worry you don't have to give me any
Of your monthly revenue
I am not that kind of a beggar)
When I outstretch the palm of my hand
And look at those divinely entangled lines
So cryptic
That are supposed to determine my fate
I think there's got to be some mistake there
That they are not there to determine me
But to tell me that this palm belongs to me only
That I am just like you sir
A creature born once a creature divine
Unrepeatable and free
For most when I outstretch the palm of my hand
To see my own geometry of the universe
Or to turn it into a fist
To strike the face of Fortune
Then I think sir
For sure we've all met before
In the faces of Adam and Eve
Hitting their foreheads against the ground
Once they vaguely hinted the Heaven is perhaps
Nothing but a wholeness of a soul in unity with its Creator
And Hell the lack of the same thing
Yes I am sure we've met before
In the face of Christ crucified on the cross
That redeemed us through his blood
For a dream in which an Idiot
Will not have to find a compartment
In which he would, with a roomful of thoughts
In his head just like me right now,
He would not have to repeat
That's not it that's not it until he cannot
Thinking perhaps about those marbles of lifeful life
Whose glimmer fades away once they break out on the surface
To dry in the fire of their own eyes
Thinking that's not it that's not it

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Silent refugees

What are we left with
When years and health are gone
When tents fall down under the roofs
When the shelters no longer shelter

When winters close down frozen and fireless
When summers burn crying for some ice
When springs forget to grow
And autumns die within a leaf

Who are we left with
When all the beloved are gone
When the helpful can no longer help
When there are no more roads to run
When the vacuum of the universe
Closes beyond our heads

Silent refugees from the earth
Silent refugees from the sky
In Who we shall die

Tihe izbjeglice

Sa č ime smo ostavljeni
Kad prođ u godine i uruč i se zdravlje
Kada se šatori pod krovovima ruše
Kad više nema skloništa

Kada se zime bez vatre smrznu
Kad ljeta prže i vape za ledom
Kad proljeć a zaborave da rastu
Kad jeseni umru u jednom listu

Sa kim smo ostavljeni
Kad voljenih više nema
Kad i oni od pomoć i pomoć i ne mogu
Kad više nema puta kojim bismo jurili
Kad se praznina svemira
Zatvori iznad glave

Tihe izbjeglice sa Zemlje
Tihe izbjeglice iz neba
U Kome mi ć emo umrijeti

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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How to interpret the distance between two smiles/Kako protumaciti razmak izmedju dva osmjeha

It should be interpreted as an attempt to reconcile a plus and a minus, black and white, the poor and the rich. Like tranquility between two joys in which the first one calls the second one using the bridge of the unsaid. Some people go so far as to interpret the distance between two smiles through tears, blood or simply an inexpressible sorrow. Some interpret it as a way to preserve both smiles. The length of a smile is of no importance. It does not make any difference whether a smile is 2mm or 2 light years long, there's always a space which can contain the possibility of coming closer or distancing. Smileness in each case is a precondition for any kind of approaching.
Or it may end up in a Pavlov's reflex that does not reflect anything. And what is a smile at all? There are different ways to determine this and each one of them slips any kind of definition.
Chronologically speaking a smile is a living time it takes to put the corners of our lips upwards to get in the first touch with the other being. According to its purpose it carries the burdens of goals just like bags full of hours spent in waiting for a smile from the other side of a bridge. A smile can be a means to an end, an instrument of compulsion that we sometimes use for practice in the morning after we've washed our face and brushed our teeth for it's time to get out, leave ourselves and devote time to the others that standing in front of their mirrors disinfect their own smileness.
It's something like a business smile which if we practice it to the point of perfection can make us rich.
A smile can carry anything from a living quiver of love to a complete frozenness. There are many things that can get frozen on our lips. The problem arises when it is us who gets frozen on them.

Treba tumaciti kao pokusaj izmirivanja plusa i minusa, crnog i bijelog, siromasnog i bogatog. Kao smiraj izmedju dvije radosti u kojoj prva doziva drugu mostom precutanog. Neki odlaze toliko daleko da razmak izmedju dva osmjeha tumace suzama, krvlju ili prosto neiskazljivom tugom. Neki kao pokusaj ocuvanja oba osmjeha.
Duzina razmaka pri tom ne igra nikakvu ulogu, svejedno dali su u pitanju dva milimetra ili dvije svetlosne godine razmaknutost ostaje prostor u koji staje mogucnost priblizavanja i udaljavanja. Osmjehnutost u svakom slucaju predstavlja uslov za bilo kakvo primicanje.
Ili se zavrsava kobnim Pavlovljevim refleksom koji ne reflektuje ama bas nista. I sta je uopste osmjeh. Postoje razliciti kriterijumi po kome moze da se odredi i svaki od njih sasvim sigurno izmice bilo kakvoj odredljivosti.

Po hronoloskom kriterijumu osmjeh predstavlja zivo vrijeme u kome se odvija laganim izvijanjem usana na gore prvi dodir sa drugim. U odnosu na svrhu on nosi terete cilja kao vrece pune sati u kojima zeljno iscekujemo osmjeh sa druge strane mosta. Osmjeh je sredstvao, instrument prinude koji ponekad poslovno uvjezbavamo izjutra ispred ogledala nakon umivanja i pranja zuba jer je kada izadjemo vrijeme da napustimo sebe i posvetimo se drugom koji takodje tu ispred ogledala dezinfikuje sopstvenu osmjehnutost.
To je nesto kao business smile koji ako se dotjera do savrsenstva moze donijeti veliko bogatstvo. Jedan osmjeh moze da nosi sve, ama bas sve od zivog treptaja ljubavi do potpune ukocenosti. Postoji veliki broj stvari koji moze da se zaledi na nasim usnama. Problem nastaje kada se na sopstvenim usnama jednom ukocimo mi sami.

A Little School of Interpretation, …in x lessons,2007.
©Miroslava Odalovic

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The night of mine (Nafaka)

like a pale cracking shadow of the Moon, my night
like a thought of an infinity below a starlit arch, my night
like a murmur of distant lonely silences, my night
like a breathing dying out under the pillow of pain, my night
like an evening star trown into a well, my night
like an abyss of heigths being silenced by the bottom, my night
like shivering of hours at the edge of the knife, my night
like windy wings in unspreadness, my night
like a whisper cut off from the quivering lips, my night
like fingers weaving the webs of the reveiled, my night
like a dawn of darkness, my night

kao blijedilo iskricave sjenke Mjeseca
noc moja
kao misao beskraja pod zvjezdanim svodom
noc moja
kao vreva dalekih usamljenih tisina
noc moja
ko minulo disanje pod jastukom od bola
noc moja
kao vecernja zvijezda spustena u bunare
noc moja
kao sunovrat u visine sto ih cuti dno
noc moja
kao treperenje sati na ostrici noza
noc moja
kao klepet leprsavih krila u nesklopljenosti
noc moja
kao sapat otkinut sa uzdrhtalih usana
noc moja
kao prsti koji pletu mreze razotkrivenosti
noc moja
kao svitanje tmine
noc moja

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Last night

Last night I asked the drop
what nobody had dared to ask before
I said
come on, isn't it time you washed my face
isn't it time you stopped falling in tears
isn't it time for me to drink you
isn't it time for you to touch me
isn't it time for me to see the world within you
come on, what are you waiting for
why don't you finally fall down
that was the rage of a dead chicken

Sinoc sam rekla kaplji
sto joj niko ranije nije smio reci
rekla sam
hajde, nije li vrijeme da me umijes
nije li vrijeme da suzom prestanes
nije li vrijeme da te popijem
nije li vrijeme da dotaknes
nije li vrijeme da u tebi sagledam svijet
hajde sta cekas
zasto vec jednom prosto ne kanes
bio je to bijes mrtvog pileta

Miroslava Odalovic

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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When I was a tree

within the twiligth beside the willows
I stood the light
with the hope almost dying
under the fingertips
I marked by a sunbeam path
the circles of time around my neck

when I was a tree
deep down in the root
the strength of my growth was squatted
it weaved the web of a beginning
under a rough core the trunk
sucked in all the water of a dawn
within the bare boughs there nested
a prayer of mine for the end
the leaves like mirrors reflected the sky

when I was a tree
I stood motionless
and all the movements were there within
the flight of a bird around my treetop
an aureole of the sun high up
the piercing of the wind through the boughs
all the penetrations deep into the ground

when I was a tree
within the twilight beside the willows
all I stood was the light
and I knew
I cannot sing a tree unless I am a tree
and there is no tree unless I sing it

kad sam bila drvo
u primraku pokraj breza
stajala sam svjetlost
pod dodirom obamrla nada
putanjom sunca bilježila
godove vremena na mom vratu

kad sam bila drvo
duboku u korijenju
sklupčana snaga rasta
plela je mrežu početka
pod hrapavom korom stablo
žilama upilu svu vodu svitanja
u golom granju gnijezdila se
molitva moja za kraj
a lišće kao ogledala
presijava nebo

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Quite Subsidiary / Sasvim Pritocno

diary pages i never wrote
due to some unknown individual intuition
a friend once explained to me
which i never really understood
they keep oozing in front of my eyes
a trailer from a movie long forgot
a midsummer's heat
pronounced at the tip of my tongue
that does not remember the language
but is ready to outriver the numbers
sliding down the covers
there's a painting perhaps
that i've never been up to
and i will never paint
a draft made of eyes and ears void
staring right at me from the broken sky
that knows each piece of its shatteredness
foretold by the mirror
i normally use to put lipstick only
or merely draft my eyes so as not to forget them
by the end of the day
and each time my fingers prolong into keyboards
there's a music played unheard humming oou of debris
the world would say it's time for itself to die
in the meaning of each word that's uttered about it
stubbornly defending its unutteredness
that always shakes me into an earthquake speech
and just like an earthquake i cannot stand still
there are too many cracks i made and need to fill

sascim pritocno
stranice dnevnika koje nikad nisam ispisala
zahvaljujuci jednoj individualnoj intuiciji
koju mi je prijatelj jednom objasnio
a nikad je nisam razumjela
cure mi pred ocima
trejler iz filma davno zaboravljenog
Jovanjdanja vrelina
izgovorena na vrhu jezika
koja je zaboravila jezik
ali je spremna da nadrijeci brojeve
što klize niz korice
postoji moždajedna slika
kojoj nikad nisam bila dorasla
koju nikad necu naslikati
slika napravljena od ociju i ušiju jaza
koja me posmatra pravo iz slomljenog neba
koje poznaje svaki komadic svoje polomljenosti
obrecene ogledalom

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Anonymous despair/Anonimni ocaj

'why are you looking for a charisma within yourself, stuffed bird
the possiblity of enlightment divides you endlessly
from craving a mission
the smell of earth concentrated circles of stupidity and ignorance
like rings
the further I don not understand
it looks to me like a dead sentinel' (Johny Shtulich)

bare in each star
that sharpens the knives of fear down the silver
to pour down into emptiness the keys without an opening
always somehow into wrong keyholes

an anonymous despair staggers behind the fragrance of deer
freedom is a horrible thing when you've got nowhere to go with it- isn't it

you'd rather exchange it for a cigarette smoke
bitter rakia from the spring of each drink
or her hands that now embrace the air

now what- when there's no charisma that could feed you
when all the idols burned lie in the ashes of lies
when you know that the birds stuffed with the news of the end of the winter
cannot fly because of the eye frozen at the bottom of a trophy

now where -as you elbow your way and push through the sentences of a story
in which you did not want to be a narrator anyways
not even a side character-through the word needle ears
searching for a new hero that will not be yourself

'zašto tražiš harizmu u sebi punjena ptico
mogucnost prosvjecenosti razdvaja te do u beskraj
od žudnje za misijom
miris zemlje koncentricni krugovi gluposti i neznanja
kao prtenje
ono dalje ne razumijem
cini mi se da je mrtva straža' (Džoni Štulic)

ogoljen u svakom zvijezdi
što oštri noževe straha niz srebro
da sipa u prazno kljuceve bez otvaranja
uvijek nekako u pogrešne brave

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Es Ist Nie Vorbei

Together:
Sam bo rom bom
Es ist nie vorbei
Sam bo rom bom
Sam bo rom bom
Ich denk' an dich
Sam bo rom bom
Ich hab sehnsucht nach dir
Blmchen:
Es ist nie vorbei
Es ist zauberei
Verliebt in alle ewigkeit
Manchmal gibt es streit
Aber mit der zeit
Kommt die sehnsucht wieder
Und ich denk' an dich
Und du an mich
Wir sehen uns beide magischen
Es ist nie vorbei
Es ist zauberei
Wie ein unsichtsbares paar
E-type:
We've come a long way
It's been a rough ride
Tell me why all the good things has to come to an end
We've left no stone unturned
Tell me what
How will i miss you already waiting for your return
Together:
Sam bo rom bom
Es ist nie vorbei
Sam bo rom bom
Sam bo rom bom
Ich denk' an dich
Sam bo rom bom
Ich hab sehnsucht nach dir
Blmchen:
Es ist nie vorbei
Es ist zauberei
Verliebt in alle ewigkeit
Manchmal gibt es streit
Aber mit der zeit
Kommt die sehnsucht wieder
Und ich denk' an dich
Und du an mich
Wir sehen uns beide magischen
Es ist nie vorbei
Es ist zauberei
Wie ein unsichtsbares paar
E-type:

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song performed by E-type
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Come in and meet my friend-Udi i upoznaj mog prijatelja

come in and meet my friend

he's got eyes of different colours
one eye is blue the other is like honey

he's got a scar somewhere beneath his heart
and the wound under the heart a bitter snake of a dream

he's got a coat and a hat on his head
the coat with two facets and the hat full of thoughts

come in and meet my friend

he knows the names of the rivers and the limits of the globe
and the salt stolen from the bottom of the sea

he knows the ribs of rocks and the whisper from the cliff
and the words hiding under the whisper

he knows all the streets all the houses at twilight
their numbers and addresses through the mother's bloodline

come in and meet my friend

he rides his thoughts like bicycles
up the hills down the slopes by the rivers and lakes

he drives his thoughts like many coloured trains
their vibrant call is layered on the rails

he leads his thoughts like caravans
so that the hot deserts don't die without water

come in and meet my friend

he loves the tramps the clowns and acrobats
the circles of fire and the walk on the wire

he loves the travellers and their suitcases
filled with memories of a step to the goal

he loves the drunkards the beggars the lost and the forgotten
who give their handful of love to the mute world

come in and meet my friend

he thinks your thoughts when you're alone
so that everyone can be there within your solitude

he thinks the thoughts of the sky when all the suns fade out

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Let's Go Home Honey / Hajdemo Kuci Duso

She was sitting at a corner
A certain corner of a street made of cardboard
With a cardboard in a cardboard
A dinar fake of gold shining
Her fingers stretching accordion
Like sticky dough that won't go off the hands
She was playing playing so awfully
Her voice cold broken broken fingers blue
Stretching spiders down the scale D-minor
Of a morning full being sung for a dinar
For a dinar a happiness for two dinars the two
She was screaming barefoot each black under her nails
Each black on her tiny teeth
Each black in her hair
Each black in her eyes
She was playing
She was playing for the people
Mottled coats passing by in their buttonedness
That address each other with you
With what's new and how are you
With what are you doing with nothing
With each conquered form of com munication
She was playing playing endlessly
Poor sounds off the broken voice
Pinned wire vocal cords she did not know
She did not recognise the coat
A certain unbuttoned coat two pockets
Two sleeves and a collar
She did not know she did not recognise
Across the zebra crossing towards the prison
Towards the cage where she was playing
She did not recognise
A silently approaching Death that will
As lightly as a feather of a dove or a sparrow's nest
Lift her up from the pavement
To hug her silently tenderly singing
It's over now you little girl
Let's go home, honey

Ona je sjedala u jednom uglu
U jednom uglu ulice od kartona sa kartonom
U kartonu dinar od lažnog zlata presijava
Njene prste što razvlace harmoniku
Ko ljepljivo tijesto što s ruku nece da se smakne
Ona je svirala svirala užasno loše
I glas joj pukao od hladnoce od prstiju plavih
Što razvlace pauke duž ljestvice D-mol
Pune jutarnje otpjevanosti za dinar
Za dinar za srecu za dva dinara dvije
Urlala bosa svako crno ispod nokata

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poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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And that the thought was just another day/I da je misao bila još samo jedan dan

And that the thought was just another day
No one has said as yet
An unsaid one that cracks with the boughs
Still being dawned for a day to be
I knew for
The outbreak slippery among the fingers
Pours down the beads of sunbeams through the clouds
No one has said as yet
The sides of the world folded on a sheet of paper
An origami of unspreadedness
Unwritten hours sealed in emptiness
On the first geometry class where we will learn
We're perhaps a square with headless points
Marked ABCD
In an alphabet of beheaded words
No one has said as yet no one has dared
The distant counting of Euclid's vows
Xenon's accounts and Pythagoras' secrets
Hung around the neck of a bird
That due to gold of knowledge cannot fly
No one has shaped as yet
A mathematical axiom at the top part of an operational table
Edged by formulae algorhithms
By which Reason the mother of order
Protectively hides the chaos of the possible
We'll be silent about the tents
Under which we've hidden security particles
Precious dust of knowledge in the urn light we'll store
We'll be silent about the warm blankets of thoughts
Covering dreams in an early morning
The marbles of small deceptions the spherical many colouring
We could be stolen them all
And to stand like nothing facing the loveless world
Only Love can do
Who we've never been enough

I da je misao bila još samo jedan dan
Niko rekao nije
Nedorečen što s granjem puca
A za riječ osvanut znala sam jer
Svanuće klizavo medj prstima
Brojanice sunčevih zraka kroz oblake sipa
Niko nije rekao
Na listu papira presavijene stranice svijta
Origami neotklopljenosti
Neispisivanjem sati zapečaćen u prazno
Na prvom času geometrije gdje saznaćemo
Da možda smo samo naučen kvadrat obezglavljenih tjemena

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poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Sideroad/Krajputasica

Darkness winged in forebodings paths
A lock of hair medallion hidden
Like the mole of the beginning
You were born for
You were lived away endlessly
In hidden pain you drummed
A star paved Sideroad made by raindrops
With raindrops into streams flown away away
Swelling in the duration strength
A little necklace of death
Around your neck
The circles of time you spinned
A lock of hair medallion hidden
Like the mole of the beginning
You were born for
In dusty steps you crafted noise
A rusty gates steal made
Opened despite the fear
The eyes always staring behind
Behind and behind
Unnoticed by endless mirrors
Misty clouds you lifted
Within a never ripe enough eyes
For the revelation
Tied within the revealed
In an invisible veil chain
What you’ve been lived away for
Endlessly
Self facing
In hidden pain you drummed
A lightful road made in darkness
Labyrinth of paths for whom the reward
For what, which efforts
Spasmodically embracing you held
Spasmodically embraced and nailed
The hope drunk from its own yearning
A star made Sideroad
In raindrops held
The rain filled with the mind
Long time forgotten by the window pane
Glass smashed
The strength of entrance under the eaves
The trace of a swelling pourdown
A roaring downflight waterfall
In raindrops into streams flown away away
Pour down pour down pour down
Fill in the emptiness of the heart
The hands unembraced hanged around
Darkness winged forebodings paths
A necklace of death around your neck

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poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Sam

(john farrar/hank marvin/don black)
I heard that youre on your own now
So am i
Im living alone now
I was wrong
So were you
What will you do?
Are you glad to be free?
Are you feeling lost just like me?
Longing for company
Oh sam, sam, you know where I am
Come around and talk awhile
I need your smile
You need a shoulder
Oh sam, sam, you know where I am
And the door is open wide
Come on inside
Longing to see you
Oh sam, sam, you know where I am
I find the days hard to face now
Empty rooms
Theres much too much space now
And the nights go so slow
Im sure you know
Wish I knew what to do
It would be so nice seeing you
And it might help you too
Oh sam, sam, you know where I am
Come around and talk awhile
I need your smile
You need a shoulder
Oh sam, sam, you know where I am
And the door is open wide
Come on inside
Longing to see you
Oh sam, sam, you know where I am
Oh sam, you know where I am
Oh sam, ooh sam
You know, you know
You know where I am

song performed by Olivia Newton-John
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Rivals

Look heah! Is I evah tole you 'bout de curious way I won
Anna Liza? Say, I nevah? Well heah's how de thing wuz done.

Lize, you know, wuz mighty purty —dat's been forty yeahs ago —
'N 'cos to look at her dis minit, you might'n spose dat it wuz so.

She wuz jes de greates' 'traction in de county, 'n bless de lam'!
Eveh darkey wuz a-co'tin, but it lay 'twix me an' Sam.

You know Sam. We both wuz wukin' on de ole John Tompkin's place.
'N evehbody wuz a-watchin' t' see who's gwine to win de race.

Hee! hee! hee! Now you mus' raley 'scuse me fu' dis snickering,
But I jes can't he'p f'om laffin' eveh time I tells dis thing.

Ez I wuz a-sayin', me an' Sam wuked daily side by side,
He a-studyin', me a-studyin', how to win Lize fu' a bride.

Well, de race was kinder equal. Lize wuz sorter on de fence;
Sam he had de mostes dollars, an' I had de mostes sense.

Things dey run along 'bout eben tel der come Big Meetin' day;
Sam den thought, to win Miss Liza, he had foun' de shoest way.

An' you talk about big meetin's! None been like it 'fore nor sence;
Der wuz sich a crowd o' people dat we had to put up tents.

Der wuz preachers f'om de Eas', an' 'der wuz preachers f'om de Wes';
Folks had kilt mos' eveh chicken, an' wuz fattenin' up de res'.

Gals had all got new w'ite dresses, an' bought ribbens fu' der hair,
Fixin' fu' de openin' Sunday, prayin' dat de day'd be fair.

Dat de Reveren' Jasper Jones of Mount Moriah, it wuz 'low'd,
Wuz to preach de openin' sermon; so you know der wuz a crowd.

Fu' dat man wuz sho a preacher; had a voice jes like a bull;
So der ain't no use in sayin' dat de meetin' house wuz full.

Folks wuz der f'om Big Pine Hollow, some come 'way f'om Muddy Creek,
Some come jes to stay fu' Sunday, but de crowd stay'd thoo de week.

Some come ridin' in top-buggies wid de w'eels all painted red,
Pulled by mules dat run like rabbits, each one tryin' to git ahead.

Othah po'rer folks come drivin' mules dat leaned up 'ginst de shaf',
Hitched to broke-down, creaky wagons dat looked like dey'd drap in half.

But de bigges' crowd come walkin', wid der new shoes on der backs;
'Scuse wuz dat dey couldn't weah em 'cause de heels wuz full o' tacks.

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poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Where I have ceased/Tamo gdje sam stala

Where I have ceased the morning will move on
I'll recognise the down by the drops of rain
I want to watch the sun as if it were the first time
I want to watch the sky as if it were the last

Where I have ceased the waters will move away
The thought of a dropp will be burnt in endlessness
There will remain a misty memery dewed
Of drinking to the bottom

Where I ceased the life will move on
The roads will be remembered from the fountain prime
I'll write the paths in hundeds of ways
At the bottom of my own eyes

Tamo gdje sam stala nastavice jutro
Po kišnim kapima prepoznacu svitanje
Hocu da gledam sunce kao da je prvi put
Hocu da gledam nebo kao da je posljednji

Tamo gdje sam stala ugasice se voda
Spržice se misao kapi u beskraju
Ostace maglovito zorom orošeno sjecanje
Na ispijanje do dna

Tamo gdje sam stala nastavice život
Sa iskonskog vrela pamtice se putevi
Na sto nacina ispisacu staze
Na dnu sopstvenih ociju

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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