Blesok no. 89, March-April, 2013
Poetry


So What If I Live Unskillfully
Translated by Boris Gregorić, Miljenko Kovačićek, Borivoj Radaković, Damir Šodan

Sonja Manojlović



Adjectives of the Black Queen


I only just live so,
I enumerate, I choose,
through the dead ends of senses there loom the adjectives
Not a name, not a shelter!
Why is the moonlight pouring around the house?
Why do they kiss without lips?
It has been said why a hundred times
over a lyrical
fire
with a scream of a mantra
I fall to you
at your command
- Unusually simply stop,
you!




He Comes Any Time


He comes any time
I wake up and lie down alone
We sit at the table
he has my body for lunch and for dinner
We peep also into family documents
here are the recipes for everything that has ever
been abundantly prepared for his mouth
What do I want from him?
Play, child, you don’t care!
To elicit a smile?
Not a single one!
When an empty voice sings
if any word has stayed behind




Nettle


What are you doing,mum
I’m picking the nettle
It’s nutritious, you know

Whom you’re gonna fead with it
I’m gonna feed you
and your indifference

Is there no other food, sweet mam

True, there is
Behind bluish mountains
In the seven miles booths
There’s the wise one leaping
He who recognises everything

What’s that all, dear mama
It is me, eternal me




So What If I Live Unskillfully


So what if I live unskillfully,
if I stagger
mutilated to a thousand eyes
Until late at night I classify tiny little nightingales, almost killed
I open and open the screens of distance within them
What if I want to breathe, to eat
where there is nourishing soup of air and books
at which I will sit
lean my chin on my palm
until my hand withers
and my eyelids confirm
So what if I take only the books from you
mouth for our kiss




Drawing Oneself Is the Easiest


Drawing oneself is the easiest!
En route, definitely en route,
as a dot a condensed circle.
Neither rain, nor sun, or air,
all that is full is empty here.
The reflection
of houses upon one's back.
But you won't calm down souls with a word
nor with a bang upon the door,
everyone darts out of the house at once.
Only the eye remains, round, petrified,
illuminated.
That's the easiest thing to draw,
the smile we need
a blazing wheel, a prayer'r mill
to grind and grind down what's already been ground
until it turns red hot white.
It's clear then,
tomorrow I will be available for love
but not today.




Prison Days


with never and I will not
I’ve simplified the secrets

Dear wife, dear wife, what got into you?
– to kill your lover with a small hatchet!
And now you train this window
not to move, to stare placidly!

Music, decorations, clothes!
 by all means, I’d want to reach you!

But first I have to wait for yes to yes and for no to no,
their tiny jabber,
fingers, already white with effort, firmly hold me in place




There’s Werewolf in the Windows


She wouldn’t let me get into the house
I drum upon the wide door
The forest is spinning all around
The girl is sitting in there
and she’s calling out
from behind her small triangle face:
There’s a werewolf outside!
I won’t open! I can’t!

Thus, the werewolf is out in the garden with me
we eat live rubies like strawberries
He hangs upside down upon a tree
Washes my linen in the rock
and his back is fast and strong

We go and turn
and she watches and watches




__________________________________________________________
created by