Iva Damjanovski
WHERE IS HOME
Love is a punch
to the stomach
that leaves me breathless,
that blows me up
like nuclear fusion
which some people fear might swallow the universe
into a black hole that stops time,
I don’t blame them,
instead I imagine
all those who try to kill me
with smiling faces,
soft eyes,
and their bullets pierce my skin
as if resin,
slowly and slickly,
they move inside me like dancers
through empty space,
I’m empty space,
there are no boundaries you can’t cross,
or move at least,
as if I were under the ground
that forgives all corpses’ ugliness,
forgives the lifelessness
of all dead.
No one’s fist can be stronger.
I turn into a door without a lock,
without a handle,
I love the city and
the city tells me it’s in love with me,
the windows are warm TV screens
where I see how birds
slash the veins of the sky,
I see the unique blue blood.
My mind is a worm
that lives on eating everything that dies.
WAAR IS THUIS
Liefde is een vuistslag in de maag
waardoor ik niet kan ademen,
die mij uiteen doet spatten
als kernfusie
waarvan sommige mensen zeker vrezen dat het heelal die zal opslokken
door een zwart gat dat de tijd doet stoppen,
ik neem het hun niet kwalijk
in plaats daarvan stel ik me al diegenen voor
die mij proberen te vermoorden
met glimlachende gezichten,
met zachte ogen
en hun kogels dringen in mijn huid
als in zachte hars,
langzaam en vloeiend,
ze bewegen door me heen, als dansers
door een lege ruimte,
ik ben een lege ruimte,
er bestaan geen grenzen die je kunt passeren
of op zijn minst verplaatsen,
het is alsof ik besta uit aarde
die alle lijken hun lelijkheid kan vergeven
en genade kent voor de levenloosheid
van alle doden.
Niemands vuist kan sterker zijn.
Ik word een deur zonder sleutelgat,
zonder klink,
ik houd van de stad en
de stad zegt tegen mij dat hij van mij houdt,
de ramen zijn warme tv-schermen
waarop ik zie hoe de vogels
de aderen van de hemel doorklieven,
ik zie het unieke blauwe bloed.
Mijn geest is een worm
die leeft van alles wat gestorven is.
КАДЕ Е ДОМА
Љубовта е удар со тупаница во стомакот
од кој не можам да дишам,
кој ме распрснува
како нуклеарна фузија
од која сигурно некои луѓе се плашат дека ќе ја голтне вселената
во црна дупка која го запира времето,
не ги обвинувам,
наместо тоа ги замислувам
сите оние кои се обидуваат да ме убијат
со насмеани лица,
со меки очи
и нивните куршуми влегуваат во мојата кожа
како во смола,
бавно и течно,
се движат низ мене како танчери
низ празен простор,
јас сум празен простор,
не постојат граници што можеш да ги преминеш,
да ги поместиш,
како да сум земја,
која умее да им ја прости грдотијата на сите лешеви,
да им ја прости безживотноста
на сите мртви.
Ничија тупаница не може да биде посилна.
Станувам врата без клучалка,
без квака,
го сакам градот и
градот ми кажува дека ме сака,
прозорците се топли телевизори
на кои гледам како птиците
ги сечат вените на небото,
ја гледам единствената плава крв.
Мојот ум е црв
и живее јадејќи сѐ што умира.
From: Triage (Тријажа)
Publisher: Templum Publishing, Macedonia
WHERE IS HOME
Love is a punch
to the stomach
that leaves me breathless,
that blows me up
like nuclear fusion
which some people fear might swallow the universe
into a black hole that stops time,
I don’t blame them,
instead I imagine
all those who try to kill me
with smiling faces,
soft eyes,
and their bullets pierce my skin
as if resin,
slowly and slickly,
they move inside me like dancers
through empty space,
I’m empty space,
there are no boundaries you can’t cross,
or move at least,
as if I were under the ground
that forgives all corpses’ ugliness,
forgives the lifelessness
of all dead.
No one’s fist can be stronger.
I turn into a door without a lock,
without a handle,
I love the city and
the city tells me it’s in love with me,
the windows are warm TV screens
where I see how birds
slash the veins of the sky,
I see the unique blue blood.
My mind is a worm
that lives on eating everything that dies.
From: Triage (Тријажа)
WHERE IS HOME
Love is a punch
to the stomach
that leaves me breathless,
that blows me up
like nuclear fusion
which some people fear might swallow the universe
into a black hole that stops time,
I don’t blame them,
instead I imagine
all those who try to kill me
with smiling faces,
soft eyes,
and their bullets pierce my skin
as if resin,
slowly and slickly,
they move inside me like dancers
through empty space,
I’m empty space,
there are no boundaries you can’t cross,
or move at least,
as if I were under the ground
that forgives all corpses’ ugliness,
forgives the lifelessness
of all dead.
No one’s fist can be stronger.
I turn into a door without a lock,
without a handle,
I love the city and
the city tells me it’s in love with me,
the windows are warm TV screens
where I see how birds
slash the veins of the sky,
I see the unique blue blood.
My mind is a worm
that lives on eating everything that dies.
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