Poem
Anka Zagar
VOYAGE
the way we pass we passso if we meet we meet
I milk cows in the morning first, then I spill milk into the sun
oh god, that explains why the eclipse cast a shadow over my face
like a pencil like a birch like a blind man’s rod
I don’t speak through my mouth since I use my entire self to speak like the sea
when it makes a cut into itself, it hurts me being in your mirror, giorgione,
when all arts move to the south, there will be an ordinary clearing here like a
scale model of an eternity, because I make snow my voice, let
the earth not see you even there, for I will see you there for sure, art equals
solitude, you may well wash yourself in your own eyes, but whom shall I
then look through like looking through a clear water to see the bottom, go play
to the sound of running water a bit more, HERE COMES THE NIGHT, LET US GO THERE
how much I would like to take a sip of that darkness
your snail coils into its home-verse and takes me with itself, however,
the wind unfolds that picture, like in springtime when I start
learning foreign languages in order not to go out, never mind, I have
come in to humble myself under the white skin of the wall,
slime-driven, a pure dark bliss, when the sun splashes against you in the morning
and you wake up: make a note of that window and close it, not that one,
that is my poem, a dog barked, his beady eyes wide open, you can
go out you can go out, while stainless steel NN greets
the roses on the state’s lawn, let them wake up for all
let them go down after having slept their fill, it’s only me
going into my own hand like embarking an airplane and look: words are fire
flies that fly glowing and if they agree, they simply go out spontaneously.
© Translation: 2003, Sibila Petlevski
PUTOVANJE
PUTOVANJE
kao što se prolazi prolazipa ako se susretne susretne
ujutro pomuzem krave i mlijeko bacim u sunce
boze, zato mi je pomrcina presla preko lica
kao olovka kao breza kao sljepacki stap
pa ne govorim iz usta jer sva govorim, kao kad more sebe
reze, tako me boli u tzvom zrcalu, giorgione, kad sva se
umjetnost odseli na jug, ovdje ce biti obicna cistima kao
maketa vjecnosti, jer od snijega ucinim svoj glas, neka te
zemlja ni tamo ne vidi, ja cu te sigurno, umjetnost jednako
usamljenost, samo se ti okupaj u vlastitim ocima, kroz koga
cu onda kao kroz bistru vodu zagledati dno, pa jos malo
sviras sto voda tece, OVAMO DOLAZI NOC, IDEMO TAMO
tamninu bih tu bas bezazleno srknula
tvoj puz uvija se u svoj kucni stih i nosi me, ali
vjetar iznova odmotava tusliku, kao u proljece kad
pocinjem uciti strane jezike da ne bih izasla, neka sam
unisla poniziti se pod bijelom kozom zida, sto po slini
dolazi, sama tamna radost, kada te ujutro zapljusne sunce
i prenes se: zapisi taj prozor i zatvori ga, ne taj,
to mi je pjesma, pas je zalajao, raskuglao oci, ti
mozes izaci mozes izaci, dok rostfrei NN pozdravlja
ruze na drzavnom travnjaku, neka se probude one svima
neka samo sidju kad se naspavaju, ali ja kao u avion
udjem u svoju ruku i gledaj: rijeci su krijesnice sto
svijetlece lete a pristanu li, od sebe se ugase
© 1987,
Poems
Poems of Anka Zagar
Close
VOYAGE
the way we pass we passso if we meet we meet
I milk cows in the morning first, then I spill milk into the sun
oh god, that explains why the eclipse cast a shadow over my face
like a pencil like a birch like a blind man’s rod
I don’t speak through my mouth since I use my entire self to speak like the sea
when it makes a cut into itself, it hurts me being in your mirror, giorgione,
when all arts move to the south, there will be an ordinary clearing here like a
scale model of an eternity, because I make snow my voice, let
the earth not see you even there, for I will see you there for sure, art equals
solitude, you may well wash yourself in your own eyes, but whom shall I
then look through like looking through a clear water to see the bottom, go play
to the sound of running water a bit more, HERE COMES THE NIGHT, LET US GO THERE
how much I would like to take a sip of that darkness
your snail coils into its home-verse and takes me with itself, however,
the wind unfolds that picture, like in springtime when I start
learning foreign languages in order not to go out, never mind, I have
come in to humble myself under the white skin of the wall,
slime-driven, a pure dark bliss, when the sun splashes against you in the morning
and you wake up: make a note of that window and close it, not that one,
that is my poem, a dog barked, his beady eyes wide open, you can
go out you can go out, while stainless steel NN greets
the roses on the state’s lawn, let them wake up for all
let them go down after having slept their fill, it’s only me
going into my own hand like embarking an airplane and look: words are fire
flies that fly glowing and if they agree, they simply go out spontaneously.
© 2003, Sibila Petlevski
VOYAGE
the way we pass we passso if we meet we meet
I milk cows in the morning first, then I spill milk into the sun
oh god, that explains why the eclipse cast a shadow over my face
like a pencil like a birch like a blind man’s rod
I don’t speak through my mouth since I use my entire self to speak like the sea
when it makes a cut into itself, it hurts me being in your mirror, giorgione,
when all arts move to the south, there will be an ordinary clearing here like a
scale model of an eternity, because I make snow my voice, let
the earth not see you even there, for I will see you there for sure, art equals
solitude, you may well wash yourself in your own eyes, but whom shall I
then look through like looking through a clear water to see the bottom, go play
to the sound of running water a bit more, HERE COMES THE NIGHT, LET US GO THERE
how much I would like to take a sip of that darkness
your snail coils into its home-verse and takes me with itself, however,
the wind unfolds that picture, like in springtime when I start
learning foreign languages in order not to go out, never mind, I have
come in to humble myself under the white skin of the wall,
slime-driven, a pure dark bliss, when the sun splashes against you in the morning
and you wake up: make a note of that window and close it, not that one,
that is my poem, a dog barked, his beady eyes wide open, you can
go out you can go out, while stainless steel NN greets
the roses on the state’s lawn, let them wake up for all
let them go down after having slept their fill, it’s only me
going into my own hand like embarking an airplane and look: words are fire
flies that fly glowing and if they agree, they simply go out spontaneously.
© 2003, Sibila Petlevski
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