Blesok no. 75, November-December, 2010
I know you know
Translated by Korana Šegetalo - Delić
From mk/поезија/586-знам-дека-знаеш-9789989594731.htmlЗнам дека знаеш / Znam da znaš / I Know You Know”, Blesok, 2012.
Today's rain has no end.
Today's rain has lost its beginning.
I walk toward you
trying to remember for how many days
we have met like this.
And we talk.
We talk like we always do - slow and clever.
All I see right now reminds me
of That City
which in the end our kind is destined to.
Our kind loves old fashioned movies.
They feed out adopted vanities.
Your silence clears my head again.
When it's all used up
I will give you my own.
Let them make love like only silences can.
Pausing Everything I'm senselessly telling you
what I intended to tell you tomorrow. And yesterday.
It's raining still and it's not cold.
In cups coffee waits patiently
to the droning of our desires.
I love rain when it's not cold
and when we have coffee at
places where they have no love for their
where the music is no good.
Those are the places we go to more often,
especially when it
rains like this… when everything falls back.
I ask myself if The Other City
will provide my place
and someone like you
soggy Tuesday afternoons,
and all the rest.
I worry a little.
Not because of myself, but because of the silence
You know already… I know you know.
While waiting for the butcher
I'm not saying I love you
only that you are my most perfect illusion.
I walk often through the South Town
and I guess because of that song
I am most partial to the Merien Strasse
I dared begin
a new quest for sense
Better put - a new quest
for a new sense
Yet I discovered cities are not unconquerable
Old fallacy drowned again
Cities are now only burning dots
which brand themselves
onto the maps of my imagination
Set your tasks aside
and let the phones ring
I will give back the kindness
handed to me earlier
I am waiting for you
and come to the City of the Whole World
I'll give you keys to new shelters
Just knock on this apartment's door
and sail across
the bed I sleep in
Show me your thighs and breasts
without a thought of loneliness
Loneliness stopped being a problem
She is a lady such as yourself
and demands to be entertained
Yes I'll be your clown
as I were before
you will laugh again at the tramp's clumsiness
Show that you exist
Use the phone receiver to knock at my door
Breathe in the prayers which took a lifetime of getting ready
I give up on humbleness
because I am your man
because I am the best in the world
Just rain, buy the rain
I'm someone else while I scream this
I'm someone else
and my thoughts need to be read
because of the helpless stars
and it's raining
everything's washed out again
no one but you and I
standing in the rain
no one exists
standing in my new shoes
of a million dollar hotel
standing in the puddle facing the sky
I'm someone else and I scream
just you and I in the rain
picture me like that I know you can
because I know
one of us will welcome a perfect day
a day for a park dinner and a cafe breakfast
maybe crapes and a cappuccino
just a glass of warm milk
picture a fresh morning
for which you didn't have to wake up
because you didn't go to sleep
picture yourself happy because you have such a morning
to take someone to breakfast
I'm allowed to hug you when you are sad
an endless hug
to fill in the emptiness
picture you noticing me first
and now you feel all that I do
just stand in the puddle waiting to spot me
in those clouds
picture that a perfect day exists
you won't be looking for me
I have deserted the poet
I have deserted the poet
of my imagination
I'm taking notes on what's to be done next
I read Dostoevsky
I'm on page seventy seven
and my hair has already become tame
I cry more
and write less
I see myself
in every cafe
looking at sports cars
and dreaming of money
What I promised to myself
I cross out
At the crossroads of big cities
I find my way
with help from repressed memories
and a map
made for the idiots of my kind
At each day's end
along the broad boulevards
the names I will commit to oblivion
all for the sake of her chopped off hair
Chet Baker finds me
Chet Baker finds me
though I hid behind warmth
and am caressed by hands
in a room where
curtains stand guard
Chat Baker finds me easily
his trumpet celebrates sleepy nights
broad avenue walks
and their balconies
it asks of me to remember
all that goes on tonight
the palm trees lining the ocean of her scent
when I think that fall back has been ordered
Humbly like the cognition
that he'll never be your lover
he had to rid himself of any thought of you
He tried to go back to the ease
which he used to posses
and is losing now
seeping relentlessly through his fingers
like air that separates you
Nothing will help
not travel nor wind
not forests nor walks
nothing but the collision of bone and heart
Conversations will not help
they have to stop
and he will go mute
impregnating the silence
No one is allowed to notice
he was ever there
He will turn into stone
timidly like a thought that a place
for those like you exist
nina simone I love you
I know it's too late
and there's no way for you to hear me now
but that's unimportant
I'm saying this for me
I'm saying this for god whose existence I absolutely doubt
I'm saying this for years I've been robbed of
and impossibility of ever making that right
I'm saying this for all those who didn't give up the strike
and who go on believing they can change things
even though they know the world to be a big lie
there is no flag to fit them all under
no voice nor alcohol
to make things better
nina I love you
more than anyone ever has
I love you more than the sum of those who have
and I have no idea what to do
with what I feel right now
Close your eyes to not see the flags
That same man is on the street below your window.
The light is low his face obstructed.
You know he's there and he knows you are too.
Cigarettes burning away in both your hands.
Telephone is silent and glass half full.
Telephone is an ominous blackbird -
you killed it a few days ago.
Before that the mirrors lost the war,
guitar and songs of a revolution you believed in.
In the hallway on a hanger a coat and a hat are waiting.
You ask who your friends are?
Did any woman ever really love you?
Leave the armchair and seize your answers in the bathroom
you broken man of the desert
who harbors a cactus in place of a heart.
On every razor there is a testament that life is a dream.
Remember how you dreamed illusions away
like skirts fluttering in the wind.
You can run away from memories
try to forget the smells
close your eyes, still you see the flags.
None of them stand for freedom.
Freedom is a dress caught in the spring breeze.
The clock on the wall has struck you out.
It is silent but for the water dripping in the bathroom.
A hat and a coat on a hanger
and a man below a window waiting.
Both of you know it's time of the last cigarette.
The Hands of Victor Jara
On September eleventh
of seventy three
among other things fucked Chile over
giving the power
to the local fascists
to begin their
mass torture orgy
Thoughts like this are after me
while I try to confess
clear the way through
as Branko did
to his friend Zijo
whom bloodthirsty slayers of Jasenovac
killed long ago
and he still keeps telling him
how he looked for Sevilla street
to which Black Horsemen
never to walk out of it again
In a letter he reminds him of others
Goran's black executioners
and these new multicolored ones
their torture methods perfected
they'll always be after us
like we aren't enough of a punishment
But this night doesn't belong to me
and that story
will bare darkness of a different kind
For this reason the letter will not meet an envelope
marked with your name
You will outlive me
For now I beg of you
learn who Victor Jara is
and what his hands mean to us
That's us brothers
All our dreams
we have placed in front of the barricades
knowing that's where they'll flourish best
and as if we are going to
we pretend we want to
It's only true that we smiling await
each other's misfortune
not for malice
but for misfortune itself
connecting so completely
A perfect excuse
Chains that bind us grow stronger
after each fall
after each nightmare realized
it's easy when it all goes according to plan
But it cannot be so
We won't let it
Bitter waters seek out their place
and each drag of smoke which hasn't been labeled air
Admit it to me
so I can admit to myself
Tell me you know what I speak of
It's all been done before us
The cities have been burned
Women taken away
Songs have been sung
Sadness is not made up
and no life is given for her
for she only takes.