O tebi
O tebi ne govorim ljudima jer shvatili ne bi
O tebi govorim
Tek listu kad lomno padne na tlo
Sumraku kad te razlije u boje
I rubu ponornog sjećanja mog
Tek tmini kada progovori glasno
Suzu prolomljenu u dnu crnog oka
Što kanuti neće nikad
Tek vratima odškrinutim i odjeku koraka
Zalutalim pragovima što kuće svoje traže
Otkucaju srca i posljednjom mrežom
Zahvaćenu vodu što kroz konope
Nazad u izvor lije
O tebi ljepoto moja
Ne govorim ni tebi
Jer čak ni ti shvatio ne bi
Da s površine riječi ništa se ne kreće
I ništa u dubine vratiti se neće
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
Fit & Legit
Sey put ye hand up inna the air, hand up inna the air, hand up inna the air
You an ye man gone clear
Put ye hand up inna the air, hand up inna the air
Rule year to year
Dutty yeah
Becau ye fit an ye legit woman ye know sey ye man jus nah lef
Matta how dem gal ya want flex like harlot
Couldn't matta how dem gal ya wan run come tek set
Woman ye know ye naffi mek no check
Cau ye fit an ye legit woman ye know sey ye man jus nah lef
Matta how dem gal ya want flex like harlot
Couldn't matta how dem gal ya wan run come tek set
Woman ye know ye done copperset
Cause a you run the district
Ye move like electric
And nuff gal a try trick up ye man an mek him exit
But ye still a benefit becau ye rallyback with
Dem can't tek a thing because a you got the permit
In any case gal ye dunn run the place
If she show up her face then she gwain get erased
She a petty case up inna the one slap race
An ye dunn know already sey ye control the place
Woman ye fit an ye legit woman ye know sey ye man jus nah lef
Matta how dem gal ya want flex like harlot
Couldn't matta how dem gal ya wanna run come tek set
Woman ye know ye naffi tek no check
Becau ye fit an ye legit woman ye know sey ye man jus nah lef
Matta how dem gal ya want flex like harlot
Couldn't matta how dem gal ya wan run come tek set
Woman ye know ye naffi tek no check
Because a long time ye inna the biz
Who this gal ya think she is
She pose up 'pon ye man an she no got not a backitif
Can't live how ye live an ye man him nah go give
No respect to her becau the body it a negative
Sey pon ye property dem wan come bounce
But dem nah get a inch nor a ounce
Gal yaffi mek dem know
Sey if dem wan come clean
Nuff a that alone dem a go get becau ye an ye man him still a team
Fit an ye legit woman ye know sey ye man jus nah lef
Matta how dem gal ya want flex like harlot
Couldn't matta how dem gal ya wanna run come tek set
Woman ye know ye naffi tek no check
Becau ye fit an ye legit woman ye know sey ye man jus nah lef
Matta how dem gal ya want flex like harlot
Couldn't matta how dem gal ya wanna run come tek set
Woman ye know ye naffi tek no check
Becau daily
See the fence an want come scale it
[...] Read more
song performed by Sean Paul
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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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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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Na dan kada naucimo kako ulice dobijaju imena
I zaronimo u geometriju oštrih slijepih uglova
Što žive svoje živote izmedu dva sna
Milimetri snage mogu se istopiti
U mapama i stazama
Muzejima na raskršcu
U semaforima što bespomocno trepcu
Kad želje bilborduju staze do pakla
U slike obmane grube zabave za posjetioce što kažu
Mi smo sad fini pristojni ljudi
Više ne gledamo kako mecka igra
Probadana žaracem
Jer smo saznali bol njenog makabra
Ali ipak smo stavili rukavice
Otišli do njenog Zoo vrta
Tražeci da nam da intervju
Iako nikad ni rijec nije rekla
Na dan kada naucimo kako ulice dobijaju imena
Ispisuje se jedan aforizam bola
Što hrani se na kraju redova
I stiska adresu remek djelo
On pulsira 'mjesta molim mjesta da pokucam
Bez imena mrtva ste ulica
Došao sam da zaplacem kraj zvona na vratima
Što zvoni spram putujeceg prodavca snova
Što došao je samo da pozdravi majku
Jer danas ne prodaje ništa
Cak ni Boga za mjesecni prihod
Nijedan recept za srecniji život
Danas je došao da pita spavace sobe na spratu
O malom djecaku što mokrio je u krevet
I skrivao svoje košmare pod dušek
I matrici dizajniranoj što živi u kutiji za igracke
Medu jednonogim olovnim vojnicima
Kraj lutke djevojcice sa šibicama
Obešcašcene pod Božicnom jelkom'
Na dan kada naucimo kako ulice dobijaju imena
Vozovi stanu zanijemili na šinama
Slijepi se putnici iskrcavaju peroni pucaju
Trgovi se crvene od paradajz revolucija
Što flertuju sa metaforama krvi
Bare podojene majkom hrabrošcu
Isparavaju u sušama južnih zraka
I vracaju se sa rodama što ne radaju djecu
Na dan kada naucimo kako ulice dobijaju imena
Zidovi stružu svoju farbu suzno tražeci
Boju necijih ociju u svakoj zidanost da udave
I apokalipticno kripticni grafiti
[...] Read more
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Shake Dat Thing
Shake That Thing"
[Intro]
Yeah!
Well dey a hav some bwoy a gwaan like dem a gal short
(Dem a get caught)
Yuh bwoy a dem mind a nuh too sharp
Yuh dun kno say right now,
Blackshot and Sean-A-Paul a lef dem inna di dark
(Dutty Yeah!)
True to our ways jus gimme di light and pass di dro
Dey gyals a likein pon our flow
Hear what I say now rudebwoy
Di girls nuh waan nuh friars nuh connivers
Watch out let me talk to har den
[Chorus]
Girl it is on, at four o' clock in di morn'
An I been watchin' you shake dat ting
Man dem a try, dem a get deny
Caw I'm gonna tek dat ting
Girl it is mine, a long time me a line
An pan we fi waan you to shake dat ting
Gyal dem a round an
Dem a try tek yuh crown
A nuff a dem just, ain't nothing
[Verse]
Dat ting a weh yuh got dey
Weh yuh get it from, a mus yuh mama
Do you fault dey, from me like a champion a bubble pon di
Chart dey, gyal a look yuh hav me
A we waan to slap dey from di front an to di back dey
From di bed an to di matinee,
We haffi blow, pull out di guns an pop pop
It's dey fault dey, energy dey dey a so dey gimme di buff
An look pon me, baby put it on me
Right a now yuh mek di Dutty dap a feel horny
[Chorus]
Girl it is on, at four o' clock in di morn'
An I been watchin' you shake dat ting
Man dem a try, dem a get deny
Caw I'm gonna tek dat ting
Girl it is mine, a long time me a line
An pan we fi waan you to shake dat ting
Gyal dem a round an
Dem a try tek yuh crown
A nuff a dem just, ain't nothing
[Verse]
From yuh step up inna di place, dance just light up
Man dem a run alla dem chase an dem a hype up
Which one, a which one a dem a get it first, fight up
Looks like dem man dey a go up inna di Fight Club
[...] Read more
song performed by Sean Paul
Added by Lucian Velea
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Shake That Thing
[Intro]
Yeah!
Well dey a hav some bwoy a gwaan like dem a gal short
(Dem a get caught)
Yuh bwoy a dem mind a nuh too sharp
Yuh dun kno say right now,
Blackshot and Sean-A-Paul a lef dem inna di dark
(Dutty Yeah!)
True to our ways jus gimme di light and pass di dro
Dey gyals a likein pon our flow
Hear what I say now rudebwoy
Di girls nuh waan nuh friars nuh connivers
Watch out let me talk to har den
[Chorus]
Girl it is on, at four o' clock in di morn'
An I been watchin' you shake dat ting
Man dem a try, dem a get deny
Caw I'm gonna tek dat ting
Girl it is mine, a long time me a line
An pan we fi waan you to shake dat ting
Gyal dem a round an
Dem a try tek yuh crown
A nuff a dem just, ain't nothing
[Verse]
Dat ting a weh yuh got dey
Weh yuh get it from, a mus yuh mama
Do you fault dey, from me like a champion a bubble pon di
Chart dey, gyal a look yuh hav me
A we waan to slap dey from di front an to di back dey
From di bed an to di matinee,
We haffi blow, pull out di guns an pop pop
It's dey fault dey, energy dey dey a so dey gimme di buff
An look pon me, baby put it on me
Right a now yuh mek di Dutty dap a feel horny
[Chorus]
Girl it is on, at four o' clock in di morn'
An I been watchin' you shake dat ting
Man dem a try, dem a get deny
Caw I'm gonna tek dat ting
Girl it is mine, a long time me a line
An pan we fi waan you to shake dat ting
Gyal dem a round an
Dem a try tek yuh crown
A nuff a dem just, ain't nothing
[Verse]
From yuh step up inna di place, dance just light up
Man dem a run alla dem chase an dem a hype up
Which one, a which one a dem a get it first, fight up
Looks like dem man dey a go up inna di Fight Club
I can ear dem say, gyal yuh body look ripe up
[...] Read more
song performed by Sean Paul
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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All The Colours Of The Blue-Sve Boje Plavog
I know the colour of the night
for I am the colour of the night
I dress it in whiteness
it dies out in a snowflake
I know the red of the twilight
for I die with every sunset
deliver it in my own blood
I know the colour of the dawn
for I rise with every sun
the black I dress it in
mourns an encaged butterfly
I know the colour of the smiling water
for I am the smiling water
hiding tears in each of the drops
And I know all the colours of the blue
for blue is mine
cloud sewn dawn
poznajem boju noći
jer ja sam boja noći
u bjelinu je oblačim
ona gine u pahulji snijega
poznajem boju zalaska
jer umirem sa svakim suncem
sopstenom krvlju ga rađam
poznajem boju izlaska
jer se budim sa svakom zorom
crnina kojom je oblačim
za zatočenim leptirom žali
poznajem boju nasmješene vode
jer ja sam nasmješena voda
u svakoj kapi skrivam suze
i poznajem sve boje plavog
jer plavo je moje
oblakom opšiveno svitanje
2009.
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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My Name Is Moonlight
And these stars they are the children of my kiss
They burn the light of my hiding place
They twinkle the shine of my disappearance
My name is the path of Earth
Galaxy chosen spot of love
Fed by heaven’s milk my place of origin
Each dropp a trae of my disappearance
My name is the Sun light
A moment buried in the sundial
It runs gold arrayed time
Eternity carried a waiting away
Moje ime je Mjeseč ev sjaj
A zvjezde su ove djeca mog poljupca
Ona gore svjetlost mog skrovista
Ona sjaje mog nestanka trag
Moje ime je Zemljin put
Galaksijama birana tač ka ljubavi
Mlijekom neba hranjena postojbina moja
Svaka je kap mog nestanka trag
Moje ime je sunč eva svjetlost
U pješč anom satu zakopan tren
On teč e zlatom optoč eno vrijeme
Od č ekanja vječ nošć u nošen
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Between the two lights/Izmedju dvije svjetlosti
I appreciate your instant reply
I judge-it's not correct
For the thing shivering in my heart
Will never know for the fall on the knees
Nor will the thing banging in my head
Ever find an echo on my tongue
I laugh because you know
I laugh because you don't know
The bridges are the hands in the air
Beyond the banks which have grown into a canyon
Like words in touch with the trembling
I laugh because you know
Because you know this is what you don't know
Stuck within a comparison
Between the two lights
Cijenim tvoj instant odgovor
Prosuđujem - nije tačan
Jer što mi kleca u srcu
Ne zna za pad na koljena
I što mi puca u glavi
Na jeziku nema eha
Ja se smijem jer ti znaš
Ja se smijem jer ti ne znaš
Mostovi su ruke u vazduhu
Nad obalama što su izrasle u tjesnac
Kao riječi u dosluhu sa strepnjom
Ja se smijem jer ti znaš
Jer ti znaš da to ne znaš
Zaglavljen u poredjenju
Izmedju dvije svjetlosti
©Miroslava Odalovic
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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If you knew/Kada bi znao
if you knew how much I want you
you'd be scared
you'd be absolutely terrified
you'd learn a tigress paw is a safer handshake
you'd learn a snake's tongue is has a softer touch
you'd find a cave a lighter place to be
you'd not be able to bear it
you'd die
but if you knew how much I love you
you'd find a way to my home
and I'd be cured
kada bi znao
kada bi znao koliko te volim
uplašio bi se
bio bi otkinut od straha
shvatio bi da je šapa tigrice bezbjednija za rukovanje
shvatio bi da jezik zmije ima blaži dodir
našao da je pecina svjetlije mjesto za stanovanje
ne bi izdržao
umro bi
ali kada bi znao koliko te volim
našao bi put do mog doma
i ja bih bila izlijecena
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Ti imaš svoja srca Marijo
Ona kucaju preko lanaca od straha
Kucaju tiho kucaju glasno
Ona kucaju preko života do praha
Kucaju neč ujno kucaju jasno
Ti imaš svoja srca Marijo
Ona se proljeć em otvaraju ko cvijet
Cvjetaju tiho preko vode polja
Ona se ruše i grade ko svijet
Što spašen reč e tvoja sam volja
Ti imaš svoja srca Marijo
Ona tiho gasnu ko svijeć e nad grobom
Sumrakom ranim na vjetru od riječ i
I tiho se bude pod skutom sa tobom
Melemom ljubavi srce da se liječ i
Ti imaš svoja srca Marijo
Kucaju nevino u kolijevci od krvi
Smrti se ne daju a humkom zidana
Da svjetlost vide kad dan im prvi
Ozari srca rukom tvojom vidana
Ti imaš svoja srca Marijo
Ona kucaju preko lanaca od straha
Kucaju tiho kucaju glasno
Ona kucaju preko života do praha
Kucaju neč ujno kucaju jasno
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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How to interpret games/Kako protumaciti igre
For the beginning it would be helpful to remember your childhood. The game is one of the hardest concepts and it requires the classification through the use of a chronological criterion. The games of childhood are a path towards theorizing the world. They sometimes imitate life without an authentic understanding of it, even without the need or wish to understand.
Playing tag for instance is a way to reach the other person using the advantages of the touch therapy.
Ring a ring a roses belongs to the same category except for the fact that this is the game in which you need to turn around a lot. Some people turn so a lot that they get into a trance which only the hide and seek can wafe them from. Speaking of hide and seek you can play it only if you have no problem with your eyesight and if you know how to count at least to…ten. You also need an elementary knowledge of your environment so that the others don't have to look for you in various corners where you can be detained with or without kneeling on corn. (Kneeling on corn is the game of the transition period)
The game of growing up is red gloves. Sometimes the gloves are so red that you may end up being blood transfused. The most interesting thing is that even if you know who hit you the pain does not decrease. Time, the most important factor in the development of games, can be helpful in increasing the pain tolerance degree. A comforting fact is that the only constant thing in the whole game is the colour of the gloves.
The game of the mature period is mother and father. Genetics plays the crucial role here. A continual jigsaw between dna and rna counting of chromosomes like marbles will distract your attention from the essence of this game.
The game of getting old is silent swinging alongside brain cells dying out. In this period you have already managed to cope with all the aforementioned games and now you can finally take your time.
The game of dying is a fairy tale being red before a good night's sleep and a dream in which you're swayed by someone's warm and calm voice. For in the end all you are craving is silence.
Za pocetak bi bilo dobro da se sjetite djetinjstva. To uvijek pomaze. Ovo je inace jedan od najtezih pojmova i zahtjeva klasifikovanje istog koristeci hronoloski kriterijum. Igre djetinjstva put su ka sagledavanju svijeta. One imitiraju zivot bez istinskog razumijevanja istog, a i bez potrebe i zelje za razumijevanjem. Suga je nacin da stignete do drugog koristeci prednosti touch terapije.
U istu kategoriju spada i ringe ringe raja s tim sto vam odzvoni jos prije nego sto ostarite jer je to igra u kojoj puno morate da se vrtite. Neki od nje prosto padaju u trans iz koga ih moze probuditi samo igra zmurke. Zmurke mozete da se igrate samo ukoliko nemate poteskoca sa vidom i ukoliko znate da brojite... makar do deset. Potrebno je i elementarno poznavanje okoline da ne bi na kraju morali i vas da traze po raznim coskovima u koje vas za kaznu stavljaju sa ili bez klecanja na kukuruzu.
(Klecanje na kukuruzu je igra prelaznog perioda) Potrebno je takodje da se unaprijed pomirite sa cinjenicom da nemate pojma koga u stvari trazite. Nije vazno. Cilj uvijek mozete da izmislite. Jer uvijek ce do kraja ostati nerazjasnjeno da li je krajnja svrha igranja postizanje uspjeha ili je igra samoj sebi cilj.
Igra odrastanja je igra crvenih rukavica. Nekad toliko crvenih da zavrsite na transfuziji krvi. Najzanimljivije je to sto i ako pogodite ko vas je zviznuo to ne umanjuje bol. Vrijeme koje je najvazniji faktor u razvoju igara moze vam biti od pomoci da povisite stepen tolerancije na bol. Utjesno je sto u svakom trenutku znate kada i gdje su vas udarili kao i to da je jedina postojana stvar u cijeloj igri boja rukavica.
Igra zrelog doba je igra mame i tate. Genetika je ovdje od presudnog znacaja. Kontinuirano klackanje izmedju RNK i DNK, prebrojavanje hromozoma kao klikera odvratice vam paznju sa sustine igre.
Igra starenja je tiho ljuljanje od kojeg odumiru mozdane vijuge. U ovom periodu vec ste savladili sve prethodno navedene igre i sada mozete da se mirno prepustite uzivanju.
Igra umiranja je citanje bajke pred spavanje i san u koji vas uljuljkuje neciji topao i smiren glas. Jer na kraju svega vapite samo za tisinom.
A Little School of Interpretation, …in x lessons,2007.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Ang Tugon Ni Ogden Nash Sa Mga Bana
Aron kuno magbukal gihapon
Ang tuba diha sa hungot sa inyong kaminyoon
Kon ikaw ang bana ug nasayop ka
Ayaw daghag estorya, dawata.
Kon ikaw ang sakto, maghilomhilom na lang kuno ka.
Sa pagkadungog ni Jerry kabahin sa gisulti ni Ogden
Siya miiktin nga mora og baktin
Kay kuno nganong ingon ana man
Dili ba unfair? Nagtagay mi sa tuba
tupad sa gisumsuman nga kinilaw nga isda...
Migalot si Jerry. Mibangka og estorya
Kay kuno dili gyod siya magpa-under sa iyang asawa.
Wa pa mahuman ang iyang pagpunay og porma
Nadunggan niya ang tawag sa iyang asawa:
“Jer! Jer! Jer! Jer! Pauli na, kadali ba! '
Nayabo ang galon sa tuba nga iyang nasingkilan
Dihang kalit mikaratil siya'g dagan.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Picaro turns her face towards the sun
…chameleon like chiseled in a rock rock chained pours the rainbow colours the silent sky reflections where to think is if I was a tree I would turn my leaves to you so that you can mirror yourself in the streams of written currents if I were a butterfly I would turn my wings to you so that you can wing yourself in warmth from the hands an embrace to you if I had hands I would repeat the digging up of the wells which your light has not as yet reached if I was the light I would be faster than a thought if I had a thought from you I would make it a gift to the face cut in years towards death if I had a face I would not be a picaro of self an unoverstepped hurdle at the threshold of an entrance…I’ve got nothing.
Pikaro okreć e lice ka suncu
...kameleonski uzidan u stijenu stijenom rpikovan preliva dugine boje tihe odraze neba gdje misliti je da sam drvo okrenula bih lice ka tebi da se ogledaš u potocima ispisanog toka da sam leptir okrenula bih krila ka tebi da se raskriliš toplinom od ruku zagrljaj da imam ruke ponovila bih kopanja bunara gdje svjetlost tvoja stigla nije da sam svjetlost bila bih brža od misli da imam misao od tebe poklonila bih je licu što mu godine urezuju smrt da imam lice ne bih bila pikaro sopstva nepreskoč ena prepreka na pragu ulaska...Nemam ništa.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Matrix/Matrica
I have a knowledge of order that will not deny me
In the shaking fences of Maria denials
Conceived in rebellion ending in mercy
Because nothing has stood on the night assembly line
To be merely a morning awakening and a step halted
In time accounts self subtracted
Hours dripping self added
In the moment endlessly divided
And the moment endlessly multiplied
I'm removing the layers - Zenon-like, unmovable ones
A frozenness forever thrown into the ashes
Is looking for its countenance in vain
Because I know time is just a mask of a woman
With the face of the ploughed fields
And a pendulum X- ray discovered
Of her head grown within numbers
Because nothing can stand on a matrix
That reconciles statis and division ability
Without a thin layer of an apparent generation
Being thrown down the feet in the walk of her hours
Matrica
Ja poznajem poredak koji me nece poreci
U poljuljanim ogradama Marije poricanja
Pobunom zaceta milošcu zaceta
Jer još ništa nije stalo na pokretne trake noci
Da jutrom bi bilo tek budjenje i korak zaustavljen
U racunu vremena od sebe oduzetog
U kapljanju sati u sebi sabranom
U trenu beskrajno djeljivom
I trenu beskrajno umnoženom
Ja skidam slojeve zenonovski nepokretne
Ukocenost zauvijek bacena u pepeo
Uzalud traga za svojim likom
Jer znam vrijeme je maska žene
Sa licem uzoranih njiva
I klatnom otkrivenim na rendgen snimku
Njene glave urasle u brojeve
Jer na matrici koja miri statis i djeljivost
Ništa više ne može stati
A da se pri tom tanka skrama prividnog nastanka
Ne surva niz stope gazom njenih sati
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Od Cežnje Nabrekla Dahom Ukleta
Sopstvenu sjenku gazim
Sašivenom haljom od hiljade ljeta
Zmijom ugrižena zemljama gazim
I tu sam sasvim gdje još me ima
Gdje rijeci mi još blagoslov mole
S krajickom proljeca u snu smrtnih zima
Zraci me misli griju i još vole
U vatri gašena na lomaci slutnji
Da rijecju još je obrecena nada
U stisku neba u dnu svih slutnji
Gdje bezdano liže plamen mog pada
Od cežnje nabrekla dahom ukletim
Svom miru za jedan plamen sam bliže
Tu sam da dišem još malo da letim
Jer rijec me vatre na oltar diže
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Ja nisam gost
ja nisam gost ovom tihom času
kad kiša za mene gorku kapju sprema
ne priznajem pad ni kad postoji zagrljaj
što će me odnijeti rijekama do ušća
i neću kraj kad od ničeg nije
ja hoću tok kretanje smisla
da raširim sjene i kad znanja nema
s njima da se igram i tako pomjerim
grafitu granice zida
ja nisam gost već domaćin kraj dovratka
što pod strehom stanuje od samog početka
na trijemu gdje čeka na stubu oslonjen
i ćutke gleda u noć
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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