Blesok no. 41, March-April, 2005

Translated by Jovana Stojkovska

Zvonko Taneski


When is this “Indian summer” outside going to end
that’s threading even under my trousers?
When is the meteorological hygiene class going to start
that I’ve awaited for so long?

I’m still in the autumnal shower
that’s diluting my professional profile,
that’s driving me to hesitation,
to passivity,
in the choice of a literary mentor,
of a tutor that recommends a homework-reading list,
of a supervisor with a point of view,
of a reviewer with a sharpened dioptre,
that controls the stylistic steps,
that examines them,
that terminates,
that ties (down),
that moulds

Will I burst this metal armour?

Will I break the bars of the zoological garden?

When winter comes, I’ll bow low to her on my knees,
but then I’ll laugh in her face, because she’s late
like a native’s clock in the countryside…

I’ve been put under investigation, under inspection,
by the Slovakian writers, by the unknown,
by the hidden,
by the unrevealed,
by the yet-undiscovered,
here on the black floor,
they’re filling the white spots
like plaster for shallow holes,
for small openings,
for scant gaps,
for escaping to the other side –
from there-elsewhere to peep
or secretly at me
like paparazzi

A Trial Against Disloyalty. Good Luck!

“The fur merchant of Milan Gino Casamanagi,
is the owner of an unsigned and unfinished painting
for which there are potential claims
that it belongs to the great Austrian painter Gustav Klimt”,
Il Giorno
informed, in front of the new judges
in order to take the oath that they’ll be faithful
to justice and that they’ll bring disloyalty to trial in every sense
(they didn’t specify exactly, not to be taken pretentiously!)

The jury, in protest, refused to cook them tea,
because (they explained!) the steam could affect concentration
when the hand will be putting the signature of its future,
even though the occupation allows freedom of movement
and cross-examination of feelings…

At the same time, they were neither allowed to drink brandy,
since it acts as a multivitamin,
i.e. as doping
and some might even take it as bribing?!

Their essays were prepared by high-ranking economists,
specialized in free-time-literary work
and in creative-writing lessons,
since they found their pay and calling insufficient for
full self-realization
(or they’d striven, even in their youth, to change
their profession but didn’t succeed!)

A tragicomedy, obviously. After the classic division, right:
the tragic for the Big
the comical for the Small

Then why don’t you stick to the new French fashion
in your dress
when you come to work?, wondered
the main character as the hero of the forgotten lower class.

And once again, the prosaic prevailed, in the end,
His Majesty
laughed off his poetic first.
Good Luck!


Phraseologisms keep turning in my head
like KIA motors in Slova-KIA,
accelerated with a Korean tempo (Northern or Southern?!)
which can even change from Active into Passive,
though thus it has nothing in common
with the verbal forms in Mistrik’s grammar,
but it works by inertia, un-linguistically,
it moves by intuition,
and stops at a carwash,
in Purgatory.

What follows is solving puzzles –
a family pack offered at a discount
at the supermarket with a hyper-prefix,
a Czech product adjusted to foreign conditions too
and flexible for neighborly methods,
for transport, for consumption,
suitable for summit gifts,
with unlimited duration,
without an expiry date,

Tomorrow we must go bowling, darling!,
to try our luck
in the knocking down of pins,
perhaps we’ll find yet another proof
that “the red” 60s are epitomized
in “the golden” literary 80s, and the rest
up until today,
remains to the Concretists.

For how much longer is my personal experience (the body in the spirit!)
going to iron my shirts
and clothes for walking across the meridians?

A White View

“This evening I’m a dragon”,
said the dumb narrator between the lines,
without looking closer at the birthday figure
which resembled a crocodile.
But it doesn’t matter, what’s important is that when read –
it generates laughter,
that’s the long-sought-after effect
in the long-ago-printed works:
not proofread, yet heavily censored
by the best friends, of course – positively,
since otherwise all privileges are lost
which go without saying and should be returned
in similar occasions.

It’s best, therefore, between us – narratoresque dumbly,
to admit that you’re giving up all such responsibilities –
you need no further flattery and rivalry,
yet do not just as well stop creating,
the curious ones are waiting thirstily to lap up
the new hit.
It’ll be a good lesson, not only for the young.
For the elderly, even more.

And in the white night, when you cannot see
even the dot in front of you,
white is nothing
white is darkness
white is blind love

Give me some light!
loudly implored the implicit author
after returning from the arranged meeting
with the implied audience.

“It is behind closed doors that one can analyze
most openly”,
he later inferred.

created by