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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 100 | volume  | September, 2015



                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 100September, 2015
Sound Reviews

Correspondence with Nina: Enter Whenever You Like, the Door Is Unlocked

p. 1
Meša Begić


Two Poems

    Two men wrote poems about Nina Simone. It was in different nights that unbearably looked like each other. The air soaked with pain and music in all atoms. Writing as the only way out and the road to the morning. Poetry as a pain killer.
    The first mad does not remember the details. He knows that he brought himself to the edge. And that the brandy by the typewriter was cruel. He does not know when he passed out, but he knows that he wrote and that in the morning there was a finished poem, an empty bottle and a deserved headache. The price was paid. The wind is wild. Everything that we wanted were touches.
    The second man was called Isakovski. He exchanged e-mails with the first man in the night that he could barely stand. Still they managed to laugh. At one moment, he said that Nina was coming through the door. It was four in the morning, he drank whiskey.
    The first one smashed rum from Nicaragua. They would drink, talk, make books, write poems. In mad times that they generally despised, this was one of the advantages, you could be in Skopje, New York, Managua, Barcelona, and still toast, share a joint, finish a poem… All this by the killer piano and the voice of madam Nina Simone.
    That night Isakovski has almost finished a poem and the computer screen froze. He could do nothing. The poem was lost. Only to recall it and try to write it again. I remember that the beginning remained the same:
    „Come Nina, come in the middle of the might, or before dawn, whenever you feel like coming, whenever you want, the door is unlocked, the windows are open, come in whenever you want.“
    The rest of it changed. Or it didn't. He wrote by heart, leaving it up to us to conclude if the first version was just a preparation for the poem that was yet to be written.
    And then, in a similar night, not long after this, the two friends said hello again not knowing that Isakovski would soon go to a heavenly bar where mad Nina throws bottles ta the audience by her piano before enchanting them with her song.



Your voice, Nina, the way in which your pronounce and break the words,

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