Blesok no. 52, January-February, 2007
Poetry


New poems

Tihomir Jančovski



I’ve become so close to my loneliness


I’ve become so close to my loneliness
So I stopped avoiding it
And I grew fond of it, as of a man
Or a mute animal

Sometimes I even feel like
Talking to it
But I don’t do it
Because it won’t respond
It can’t respond
It mustn’t respond
Or else it would not be loneliness




There is


There is
A small child
A very little man
Who roams forever
Along a river bank
Hops on stones
Not to get wet
Crawls through weeping willows thickets
Gapes at the rocks on the bank
And clambers upon them
And drinks the water from the spring
Stares at frogs with dark backs and yellow bellies
That child only roams, watches around him
And lives his childhood
He cannot imagine
That even when he grows up
Everything will be the same
The roaming, the watching, the water,
Only thoughts will be different
And life less clear
There is
A small child
A very little man
Still roaming
Inside of me




All of my life, ever since I remember


All of my life, ever since I remember
I’ve been looking for something
Inside or outside
In my dreams or awake
A chain of searches
As if I had a handful of keys
Given to me at birth
To open all
The locks of my existence




What is this hollowness


What is this hollowness
In my friendship for you
When you speak I am absent
When you want to leave
I don’t stop you
And we used to be so close
We spoke and kept quiet for hours
Together
And now we speak and keep quiet
To ourselves

And where did our friendship go
Where has it vanished?




Frost froze my thoughts


Frost froze my thoughts
They squeak like mice
And quickly disappear
In their holes in my mind
(no words, this is an image)
I am a wild tomcat
I hunt my thoughts at night
As they hide in the corners
Of my daily worries




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