Blesok no. 36, May-June, 2004

The dream of the dolphin
Translated by: Janka Arsovska

Boban Bogatinovski

Don't forget
you still have a soul

let one more step
let one more plain

fishes swim only forward
birds are bigger than the sky
behind the horizon there is another horizon

let one more word
let one more breath

clouds are moving too fast
light is dying too fast

let one more step

but stop go back
in the darkness one tree falls


Last weakness

remind me of the beautiful
of the forgotten note for perfection
remind me of the caterpillars' dream
of the secret corals' life
remind me
of the rainbows' smile
of the birches from the street of dreams
remind me of the beautiful
of the most beautiful towers from cards
of the kindness – the old gnawed bone
remind me
maybe I will change my mind
in this next to the last moment
before to wave the digger
to the colossal knee of the cosmos


Bright spot
on your forehead

sleep dream fades the pain
the moment is a lasting nightmare
slowly killing the thought
painfully forgetting the forgotten

        the day is a big temptation

        said the old newspaper salesman
        the streets are endless
        said the old street cleaner

        our souls are empty boxes

        said the old mailman

       I have nothing to redeem my soul
        said the old street beggar

sleep don't look don't look at yourself
ugliness eats up beauty kills
no mirror is an icon
nothing is new and unique
        no this is not a theatre
        but repeated and inevitable punishment
        invisible trap
        before the fence of the paradise

        said the old a little drunk artist

        it is time to look for
        our new habitat

        said the old forgotten words

sleep and that what will still to come
long time ago has passed
when you are awake also fades
the bright spot on your forehead


Accidental talks

good morning street footwear cleaner
is it a long way to the Purgatory

I don't know
        water knows the way

good morning street dealer in sundries
is there poison for invisible mouse of
I don't know
        soul is not a body part

good morning havens above our heads
where are the stairs we were supposed to climb

we don't know
         up is up down is down

good morning our fucking world
are you the prison we invented ourselves

It is me
        love is a small kid


Waiting for the wind

I play with letters as with knifes
    a – as an asteroid before explosion
    u – as a mouth full with blood
    m – as your milky – white complexion
outside children play marbles
as with roes from long ago dead fishes  
at night grasses wait for the town to fall asleep
to grow over my building
love is the biggest tower of cards
and any attempt for escape is unsuccessful
imprisoned in my own room of dreams
light mantras I repeat
and from somewhere far an eye approaches to me
I look through it and all what I see is reversed
You come out from your hat factory pleased
sweetly smiling to any passerby
and I cursed don't know how to live differently
and I cursed don't know how to live differently
I run out with a digger in my hands
the children put the marbles back in the ground with care
and silently sit on the hills
we waited all that night for the wind
to fly the kites

                        ( 1993)

The dream of the dolphin

don't be afraid
our weakness is powerful
schools of lost dolphins
are these words
fallen from the prayers
into magic boxes
hidden wishes
white flames on the candles
as tender as snowdrops
that will fade soon

don't be afraid
this is one more night
when we won't sleep
alone on highways
while you drive with pain
hidden in your eyes
passing quietly
from town to town
from one dream to another

don't be afraid
in one dolphin's dream
we also live
immortal and helpless
as midnight suns
kids running on the edge
of this endless blue


– metamorphosis –

even dead I wondered what you are

beginning of a big smile
end of an unwritten letter

lonely beam from far away thrown
our road for coming back

moon fallen asleep on someone's stiff lips
sun drawn on children's sidewalk

remote island for our blue sorrow
river that secretly turns into a grain of sand at night

invisible mirror of the invisible God
truth that slowly unwraps itself

or one small thought only
that still wanders through cosmos


* * *
* * *

even dead you wonder what you are

and somewhere far somewhere very far
on the sand of oblivion
the sun draws perfect circles


I write these verses

it is hard to write poetry
next to a stone
it is even dangerous to write poetry
next to a stone
persistently adding music and light
into the empty regions of death
millenniums and millenniums
to think about utmost useless things
      – excuse me dear sir
      what do you think about the perfection
      of the solar system
      – excuse me dear Madame
      have you heard
      about the big mysteries of underground museums
      – excuse me beautiful young lady
      do you know that
      from recently even the newborns dream
millenniums and millenniums
while the bread hardens on the table
and the world continuously irretrievably hurries
           after some quite different things


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