Blesok no. 25, March-April, 2002
Poetry


Preparing for the Performance

Vesna Acevska



Preparing for the Performance


First come the lions, the elephants
the monkeys and the other wild beasts
they should be tamed with mild measures.

Then the magician's hat should carefully
be stuffed with white doves
brighty–colored ribbons and other such whatnots.

Make sure the chains, the tightrope
the tension on the safety net, the padlock
on the giant cage, are in order.

But, above all, the clown's ritual
of putting on the makeup must be attended to
for on him every performance depends.


Translated by: Lidija Davidovska and Michael Szporer




That Windless Feeling


Round the summer, wheels the heel
heaving rusk, dogwood–corn
acorns raw, on the ground.

Huge heat, hot and heavy–breathing
clean–cut brow, pale sail
hot breasts burn on the rug.

Flocks aflowing, a brilliant web
children chase, a sun–struck sprig
rooster dusts up the grass.

Harvest bursts, a sturdy farmhand
grass ablaze, a glistening stallion
river yearns that windless feeling.


Translated by: Aneta Gorgievska and Michael Szporer




Savanna


Panic flaring
up inside the hub of my being
horrible howl, smoking
soot behind the thudding

the cry of the lioness
the growl of the tigress
which leap across
the path in birth. These enormous

spaces, everything that's danger–
ously wise roams alone
then leaves them as they were
migrating, moving on…


Translated by: Michael Szporer




Dark Dreams
To Emily Dickenson


Her shivering makes bleary
insomnias blossom. A magician
lands – squeaking eerie

armor on the edge of hell
in a shuddering rite
Beyond the gate, there's a sight

mercilessly in the corner lean
digging up – someone omniously unseen
there covered over the fog.


Translated by: Michael Szporer




The Hunt


Breathless dandelion
tells me: “Tar sticking
to the hair of harried
warriors,” blowing
their horns huddled
together in ambush
tearing at my wool; the fragrent
feast of the flock,
the noise overpowers hearing
on the doorknock of the gate
a knock – in my
sight a spider sways
on the edge of the abyss.


Translated by: Michael Szporer




Tan Nak Ra


The ancient God blows a dark horn
– he calls us. Fallen amid thorns and shrubs
he climbs a stack of blackthorns
and lifts his arms with the power of a sorcerer.

And from us, each alone, rapturously
he wanders all follows his own holiness.
From eternity he drains exaltingly
and imprudently – he arranges space and time.

Silent, the cosmos listens
mute, releasing sounds and shafts of light.
It awaits, secretly depositing a soul
for its rays to shine through.

Which cosmos, which man and god
inflicts upon us the alluring light and dark:
all within all entwines and syllable within syllable
nests, with the love of a brother and a demon.

Which cosmos, which god and man
awaits the alluring light and rak.
All within all entwines – every hunter
has a cord and leaps over the threshold.




Illumination


The simmering rainbow sparks –
from the harvest a shining sheaf.

In streaming slush
saintly women and men
in the heart of the heavens –

The priest highly illuminated
sprays holy light.

The priest hollow-eyed and still
in the heart of devine enlightment.


Translated by: Michael Szporer




God Among Us


God has just dropped in.
Shining, as only God can shine
With all the omnipresent wholeness
Of his Holy Trinity.
He reached all the angels,
All those who entered Paradise
With the holy scribes and scriptures
With all that goes to his account.
It’s time for a new millenium
Time – for a new agreement!




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