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Bijelo

Odbijam da cmizdrim zbog razdaljine
zemlja se ipak okreće
a odavde ljubavi
možemo posmatrati svemir
svako sa svoga prozora
u istoj slijepoj noći
i zasigurno znati
silu osjeke i plime

njeno lice bijelo skriveno
u prolomu oblaka
i vjetar
što odnosi ruke njene
sa sobom poput uzdaha
Hekate

- daj mi mjesto gdje ću stati
i podignuću Zemlju
privezati vrisak
iz jajnikâ
uz miris
svežnja divlje mente

daj mi mjesto gdje ću stati
i ja ću da nas vratim nazad
uvijek u istu noć
gdje drhtava tama tvojih misli
vodjaše ljubav
ljubav sa mjesečinom.

Shadi Angelina
 
Thanks for the wild turkey and the passenger pigeons, destined to be shit out through wholesome American guts.

Thanks for a continent to despoil and poison.

Thanks for Indians to provide a modicum of challenge and danger.

Thanks for vast herds of bison to kill and skin leaving the carcasses to rot.

Thanks for bounties on wolves and coyotes.

Thanks for the American dream,
To vulgarize and to falsify until the bare lies shine through.

Thanks for the KKK.

For nigger-killin' lawmen, feelin' their notches.

For decent church-goin' women, with their mean, pinched, bitter, evil faces.

Thanks for "Kill a Queer for Christ" stickers.

Thanks for laboratory AIDS.

Thanks for Prohibition and the war against drugs.

Thanks for a country where nobody's allowed to mind the own business.

Thanks for a nation of finks.

Yes, thanks for all the memories-- all right let's see your arms!

You always were a headache and you always were a bore.

Thanks for the last and greatest betrayal of the last and greatest of human dreams.

Savršena.:heart:
 
Tvoje oči - Senada Brčaninović

Tvoje oči… hiljadu jezika govore
i svaki od njih razumijem.
Samo tvoje oči znaju u istom trenu
na engleskom i latinskom da zagrgolje,
na francuskom se nasmiješe,
pa na kineskom slatko naljute…

Šta je reći ljubav šašava
kada zanjiše zrelo grožđe
na proljetnom povjetarcu,
pa od odraslog čovjeka
napravi školarca i sanjalicu,
i ja nečujne jezike razumijem…
I jedino ja na svijetu ovom vidim
da tvoje oči hiljadu jezika govore…
i svaki, svaki od njih razumijem.

Senada Brčaninović, © 2009.

tvoje-oc48di.jpg


TVOJE OČI - Senada Brčaninović

 
..




T a m o

gde ne vlada Uobrazilja

gde ne upravlja Interes

ni Navika

nema nikakvog Nesklada



Rec je tamo zivotvorna

i Ljubav nasa bezuslovna

tamo je Smisao

svih Dobrih Dela

i Mudrost Zajednistva

kroz Srca & Um

o b j e d i nj e n a




.
 
JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU

JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU
UBIO SAM JE JER JE BILA SMEDJA I GADNA

JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU
UBIO SAM JE JER ME JE GLEDALA RUZNIM OCIMA

JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU
UBIO SAM JE JER JE BILA LAKA KAO PERO

JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU
UBIO SAM JE KAO STARA LJUBAV MENE

Ovo je moje delo, govori o ljubavi koja je stara i sada me proganja samo u snovima, koje simbolizuje jastuk, zelim da je ubijem, a simbol stare ljubavi je buba, jer ta ljubav vise nije lepa, ona je ruzna, gadna i smedja, i ubila me je, nekada davno. Sta mislite?
Ovi moji su meni omiljeni stihovi trenutno.
 
JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU

JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU
UBIO SAM JE JER JE BILA SMEDJA I GADNA

JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU
UBIO SAM JE JER ME JE GLEDALA RUZNIM OCIMA

JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU
UBIO SAM JE JER JE BILA LAKA KAO PERO

JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU
UBIO SAM JE KAO STARA LJUBAV MENE

Ovo je moje delo, govori o ljubavi koja je stara i sada me proganja samo u snovima, koje simbolizuje jastuk, zelim da je ubijem, a simbol stare ljubavi je buba, jer ta ljubav vise nije lepa, ona je ruzna, gadna i smedja, i ubila me je, nekada davno. Sta mislite?
Ovi moji su meni omiljeni stihovi trenutno.



...




Ja mislim da je krajnje vreme da upoznas "Shodernu Eva-cicu"..

Ako nista drugo, uvek mozete zajedno lizati ruzicasti izbljuvak u gornjem desnom uglu TV ekrana.



Oprosti na Iskrenosti, ALI, nista gluplje u zivotu nisam procitao.

:worth:

+ CAPS LOCK (svaka Cast... na jas-tuce-nju & uz-a-lud-noj "(d)omi(s)ljenosti") ! ! !



I naravno, nista se ti ne boj, vec slobodno (lj)ubi bliznjega svoga...

A Bog ce ionako, kad se ponovo probude, valjano sve da ih razvrsta.




:dontunderstand:

Opste je poznato da i buba-Rusi imaju Dusu.
 
...




Ja mislim da je krajnje vreme da upoznas "Shodernu Eva-cicu"..

Ako nista drugo, uvek mozete zajedno lizati ruzicasti izbljuvak u gornjem desnom uglu TV ekrana.



Oprosti na Iskrenosti, ALI, nista gluplje u zivotu nisam procitao.

:worth:

+ CAPS LOCK (svaka Cast... na jas-tuce-nju & uz-a-lud-noj "(d)omi(s)ljenosti") ! ! !



I naravno, nista se ti ne boj, vec slobodno (lj)ubi bliznjega svoga...

A Bog ce ionako, kad se ponovo probude, valjano sve da ih razvrsta.




:dontunderstand:

Opste je poznato da i buba-Rusi imaju Dusu.

Ovo boldovano ne znam sta je. Ali, drugar, hvala ti svakako na komentaru, superiska, ou yea...
 
Voleti Anu
je odlazak na Sajam knjiga u Beogradu

Biti crven je
Voleti Anu

Koračati ulicom i sanjati je,
pogodi, to je
Voleti Anu

Tešiti najboljeg drugara je
Voleti Anu

Voleti Anu
je biti bled

Ružno sanjati,
i probuditi se nasmejan, je
Voleti Anu

Želeti da ostane još koji minut je
Voleti Anu

I pričati Ani je
Voleti Anu

Gledati jutrom u Frušku Goru je
Voleti Anu

Poljubiti Anu na Novogodišnju noć je
Voleti Anu

I zaboraviti šta si hteo napisati je
Voleti Anu

Voditi Anu na mesta gde samo sam ideš, je
Voleti Anu

Otići u Ledince je
Voleti Anu

I nemati Aninu sliku u novčaniku je
Voleti Anu

Voleti Anu je kao čitati malom detetu pred miran san.



O. Alexeyev



...



HVALA Ti Ana, sto in-spi-(mi)rises kao Katarina, Julijana, Gordana, Aleksandra, Tanja . . . (itd. itb. - dobitno, a nebitno)..


:zaljubljena:


Fruska Goro, dolazi(m).
 
~ Poludela ptica ~

Kakvi to glasovi čuju se u mraku,
Nad noćnim poljem, visoko u zraku?
Ko li to peva? Ah, ništa, sitnica:
Jedna u letu poludela ptica.

Nadleće sebe i oblake trome,
S vetrom se igra i peva o tome.
Svu svoju veru u krilima noseći,
Kuda to leti, što bi htela doseći?

Nije li vreme da gnezdo vije?
Kad bude hladno da se u njem grije.
Ko li te posla pevati u tminu?
Sleti u nižu, u bolju sudbinu.

Ne mari za to poludela ptica.
Peva o vetru što je svu golica.
A kad je umor jednom bude shrvo,
Neće za odmor nać nijedno drvo.

Dobriša Cesarić​
 
Poslednja izmena:
Ezra Pound reads his superb translation of the Anglo-Saxon poem The Seafarer - with drums in the background - Recorded 1939

The Seafarer
by Ezra Pound (1885-1972)

(From the early Anglo-Saxon text)

May I for my own self song's truth reckon,
Journey's jargon, how I in harsh days
Hardship endured oft.
Bitter breast-cares have I abided,
Known on my keel many a care's hold,
And dire sea-surge, and there I oft spent
Narrow nightwatch nigh the ship's head
While she tossed close to cliffs. Coldly afflicted,
My feet were by frost benumbed.
Chill its chains are; chafing sighs
Hew my heart round and hunger begot
Mere-weary mood. Lest man know not
That he on dry land loveliest liveth,
List how I, care-wretched, on ice-cold sea,
Weathered the winter, wretched outcast
Deprived of my kinsmen;
Hung with hard ice-flakes, where hail-scur flew,
There I heard naught save the harsh sea
And ice-cold wave, at whiles the swan cries,
Did for my games the gannet's clamour,
Sea-fowls, loudness was for me laughter,
The mews' singing all my mead-drink.
Storms, on the stone-cliffs beaten, fell on the stern
In icy feathers; full oft the eagle screamed
With spray on his pinion.
Not any protector
May make merry man faring needy.
This he little believes, who aye in winsome life
Abides 'mid burghers some heavy business,
Wealthy and wine-flushed, how I weary oft
Must bide above brine.
Neareth nightshade, snoweth from north,
Frost froze the land, hail fell on earth then
Corn of the coldest. Nathless there knocketh now
The heart's thought that I on high streams
The salt-wavy tumult traverse alone.
Moaneth alway my mind's lust
That I fare forth, that I afar hence
Seek out a foreign fastness.
For this there's no mood-lofty man over earth's midst,
Not though he be given his good, but will have in his youth greed;
Nor his deed to the daring, nor his king to the faithful
But shall have his sorrow for sea-fare
Whatever his lord will.
He hath not heart for harping, nor in ring-having
Nor winsomeness to wife, nor world's delight
Nor any whit else save the wave's slash,
Yet longing comes upon him to fare forth on the water.
Bosque taketh blossom, cometh beauty of berries,
Fields to fairness, land fares brisker,
All this admonisheth man eager of mood,
The heart turns to travel so that he then thinks
On flood-ways to be far departing.
Cuckoo calleth with gloomy crying,
He singeth summerward, bodeth sorrow,
The bitter heart's blood. Burgher knows not --
He the prosperous man -- what some perform
Where wandering them widest draweth.
So that but now my heart burst from my breast-lock,
My mood 'mid the mere-flood,
Over the whale's acre, would wander wide.
On earth's shelter cometh oft to me,
Eager and ready, the crying lone-flyer,
Whets for the whale-path the heart irresistibly,
O'er tracks of ocean; seeing that anyhow
My lord deems to me this dead life
On loan and on land, I believe not
That any earth-weal eternal standeth
Save there be somewhat calamitous
That, ere a man's tide go, turn it to twain.
Disease or oldness or sword-hate
Beats out the breath from doom-gripped body.
And for this, every earl whatever, for those speaking after --
Laud of the living, boasteth some last word,
That he will work ere he pass onward,
Frame on the fair earth 'gainst foes his malice,
Daring ado, ...
So that all men shall honour him after
And his laud beyond them remain 'mid the English,
Aye, for ever, a lasting life's-blast,
Delight mid the doughty.
Days little durable,
And all arrogance of earthen riches,
There come now no kings nor Cæsars
Nor gold-giving lords like those gone.
Howe'er in mirth most magnified,
Whoe'er lived in life most lordliest,
Drear all this excellence, delights undurable!
Waneth the watch, but the world holdeth.
Tomb hideth trouble. The blade is layed low.
Earthly glory ageth and seareth.
No man at all going the earth's gait,
But age fares against him, his face paleth,
Grey-haired he groaneth, knows gone companions,
Lordly men are to earth o'ergiven,
Nor may he then the flesh-cover, whose life ceaseth,
Nor eat the sweet nor feel the sorry,
Nor stir hand nor think in mid heart,
And though he strew the grave with gold,
His born brothers, their buried bodies
Be an unlikely treasure hoard.
 
Canto LXV

With usura hath no man a house of good stone
each block cut smooth and well fitting
that delight might cover their face,

with usura

hath no man a painted paradise on his church wall
harpes et luthes
or where virgin receiveth message
and halo projects from incision,

with usura

seeth no man Gonzaga his heirs and his concubines
no picture is made to endure nor to live with
but it is made to sell and sell quickly

with usura, sin against nature,
is thy bread ever more of stale rags
is thy bread dry as paper,
with no mountain wheat, no strong flour

with usura the line grows thick

with usura is no clear demarcation
and no man can find site for his dwelling
Stone cutter is kept from his stone
weaver is kept from his loom

WITH USURA

wool comes not to market
sheep bringeth no gain with usura
Usura is a murrain, usura
blunteth the needle in the the maid's hand
and stoppeth the spinner's cunning. Pietro Lombardo
came not by usura
Duccio came not by usura
nor Pier della Francesca; Zuan Bellin' not by usura
nor was "La Callunia" painted.
Came not by usura Angelico; came not Ambrogio Praedis,
No church of cut stone signed: Adamo me fecit.
Not by usura St. Trophime

Not by usura St. Hilaire,

Usura rusteth the chisel
It rusteth the craft and the craftsman
It gnaweth the thread in the loom
None learneth to weave gold in her pattern;
Azure hath a canker by usura; cramoisi is unbroidered
Emerald findeth no Memling

Usura slayeth the child in the womb
It stayeth the young man's courting
It hath brought palsey to bed, lyeth
between the young bride and her bridegroom

CONTRA NATURAM

They have brought whores for Eleusis
Corpses are set to banquet

at behest of usura.
 
I grew up bent over
a chessboard.

I loved the word endgame.

All my cousins looked worried.

It was a small house
near a Roman graveyard.
Planes and tanks
shook its windowpanes.

A retired professor of astronomy
taught me how to play.

That must have been in 1944.

In the set we were using,
the paint had almost chipped off
the black pieces.

The white King was missing
and had to be substituted for.

I’m told but do not believe
that that summer I witnessed
men hung from telephone poles.

I remember my mother
blindfolding me a lot.
She had a way of tucking my head
suddenly under her overcoat.

In chess, too, the professor told me,
the masters play blindfolded,
the great ones on several boards
at the same time.

Prelepo.
 

pevacice, jako cenim tvoje misljenje, sta mislis o ovim pesmama:

pesma o nemilim dogadjajma

zasto je moralo tako biti
zasto svoju primitivnost niste mogli skriti
tolerancija vama je nepoznata rec
nadam se naucicete je vec
nije bilo kul ni lepo
ali ponovice se I ovo leto
ako prosirite horizonte I vidite sve
ljudima dopusticete da ostvare sne
jjedini nas je branio ceda
da nas bijete on ne da
pustite mene I drugare da setamo
ne shvatam zasto vam mi toliko smetamo
 
JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU

JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU
UBIO SAM JE JER JE BILA SMEDJA I GADNA

JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU
UBIO SAM JE JER ME JE GLEDALA RUZNIM OCIMA

JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU
UBIO SAM JE JER JE BILA LAKA KAO PERO

JUTROS SAM UBIO BUBU NA JASTUKU
UBIO SAM JE KAO STARA LJUBAV MENE

Ovo je moje delo, govori o ljubavi koja je stara i sada me proganja samo u snovima, koje simbolizuje jastuk, zelim da je ubijem, a simbol stare ljubavi je buba, jer ta ljubav vise nije lepa, ona je ruzna, gadna i smedja, i ubila me je, nekada davno. Sta mislite?
Ovi moji su meni omiljeni stihovi trenutno.
 

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