Marija Pavlikovska Jasnoževska

LJUBAV

Nisam te videla mesec dana ravno,

i ništa. Sasvim sam čvrsta duha.

Ćutljivija sam možda, lice mi tavno.

Živi se znači, i bez vazduha.

MARIJA PAVLIKOVSKA JASNOŽEVSKA

Jenny Trolliet

« J'ai soif de gens vivants, de gens simples et aimants...

De gens amoureux, doux, tendres !

J'ai soif de gens qui ne jugent pas, qui aident et qui évoluent...

De gens qui pardonnent et qui rient...

De gens authentiques et qui s'en fichent du paraître !

J'ai soif d'esprits attentifs et profonds...

De gens qui s'aiment vraiment !

J'ai soif de rencontres folles et de gens qui s'amusent.

Stop aux habitudes qui n'ont aucun sens et des passés révolus qui nous tirent vers le bas.

Stop aux voix trop fortes et trop sérieuses.

Stop aux esprits malins et voraces.

Stop aux gens qui font mal parce qu'ils ont mal.

Je dis oui à l'amour, à la joie ! Je veux rencontrer des âmes sensibles au cœur tendre et des gens qui ont les yeux qui brillent. Je veux rencontrer des enfants et des grands enfants qui voient la vie en couleurs !

Vive les coeurs et les âmes. Vive la sensibilité et la gentillesse. Vive l'imperfection. Vive la folie ! Vive l'Amour...»

Jenny Trolliet "Evidence"

Salinger

You're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You're by no means alone on that score. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You'll learn from them—if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn't education. It's history. It's poetry.

J.D. Salinger

(Book: The Catcher in the Rye)

Bianca Sparacino

You ruin your life by tolerating it. At the end of the day you should be excited to be alive. When you settle for anything less than what you innately desire, you destroy the possibility that lives inside of you, and in that way you cheat both yourself and the world of your potential. The next Michelangelo could be sitting behind a Macbook right now writing an invoice for paperclips, because it pays the bills, or because it is comfortable, or because he can tolerate it. Do not let this happen to you. Do not ruin your life this way. Life and work, and life and love, are not irrespective of each other. They are intrinsically linked. We have to strive to do extraordinary work, we have to strive to find extraordinary love. Only then will we tap into an extraordinarily blissful life.

(Book: Seeds Planted in Concrete)

Sreten Perović

Noć u Triješću

Vratiti se doma

kolibi bez krova

koju odniješe

vjetrovi i vode

Dotrčati lakoćom olova

žegom izoran

maglom naboran

bagrem ogoljeli

od čume oboljeli

kao gola vrana

Nokte i zube u nar

mramor očešljan

u nerandžu zlatnu

a lice u kal

u promrzlu nad

da oplode klatno

kužnog dana prag

Sreten Perović

1985.

Joan Didion

People who have recently lost someone have a certain look, recognizable maybe only to those who have seen that look on their own faces. I have noticed it on my face and I notice it now on others. The look is one of extreme vulnerability, nakedness, openness. It is the look of someone who walks from the ophthalmologist's office into the bright daylight with dilated eyes, or of someone who wears glasses and is suddenly made to take them off. These people who have lost someone look naked because they think themselves invisible. I myself felt invisible for a period of time, incorporeal. I seemed to have crossed one of those legendary rivers that divide the living from the dead, entered a place in which I could be seen only by those who were themselves recently bereaved. I understood for the first time the power in the image of the rivers, the Styx, the Lethe, the cloaked ferryman with his pole. I understood for the first time the meaning in the practice of suttee. Widows did not throw themselves on the burning raft out of grief. The burning raft was instead an accurate representation of the place to which their grief (not their families, not the community, not custom, their grief) had taken them. ~Joan Didion

(Book: The Year of Magical Thinking)

Znači, ti bi da budeš pisac?

Ako ne navire iz tebe

bez obzira na sve…

i ne pokušavaj.

Ako se ne pojavi iz čista mira

iz tvoga srca, tvog uma, tvojih usta

iz tvog stomaka…

i ne pokušavaj.

Ako moraš da sjediš satima

buljeći u monitor

ili pogrbljen nad

pisaćom mašinom,

tražeći riječi…

i ne pokušavaj.

Ako to radiš zbog novca

ili slave…

i ne pokušavaj.

Ako to radiš samo zato

da bi odveo žene u krevet…

i ne pokušavaj.

Ako moraš samo da sjediš

i pišeš sve to iznova i iznova…

i ne pokušavaj.

Ako ti je teško pri samoj pomisli da to moraš raditi…

i ne pokušavaj.

Ako pokušavaš da pišeš kao neko

drugi…

zaboravi.

Ako moraš čekati da izbije iz

tebe,

onda čekaj strpljivo.

A ako nikada ne izbije,

nađi nešto drugo da radiš.

Ako moraš prvo da to pročitaš svojoj ženi,

djevojci,

svojim roditeljima

ili bilo kome drugom…

nisi spreman.

Ne budi kao većina drugih pisaca,

ne budi kao hiljade drugih

koji sebe zovu piscima.

Nemoj biti tup i dosadan

i pretenciozan,

nemoj biti izlizan egoizmom.

Sve biblioteke ovog svijeta

zijevaju od dosade

nad takvima kao što si ti.

Ne dozvoli im to.

Budi svoj.

Ako ne izlijeće iz tvoje duše

kao raketa,

ili ako te tvoja tišina

ne dovodi do ludila,

samoubistva ili ubistva…

i ne pokušavaj.

Ako te to sunce unutar tebe

ne prži do bola…

i ne pokušavaj.

Ali zato kad dođe vrijeme

i kad dođe “tvoj red”,

TO će se desiti samo od sebe

i nastaviće tako da se dešava

sve dok ne umreš TI

ili dok ne umre TO u tebi.

Znači, ti bi da budeš pisac?

Čarls Bukovski

Ellen Bass

to love life, to love it even

when you have no stomach for it

and everything you've held dear

crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,

your throat filled with the silt of it.

When grief sits with you, its tropical heat

thickening the air, heavy as water

more fit for gills than lungs;

when grief weights you like your own flesh

only more of it, an obesity of grief,

you think, How can a body withstand this?

Then you hold life like a face

between your palms, a plain face,

no charming smile, no violet eyes,

and you say, yes, I will take you

I will love you, again.

Ellen Bass

Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski (1920-1994)

BITI TU

kad dotakneš dno,

ne preostaje ništa drugo

nego se uz osmijeh iznova odjenuti,

izaći vani, promatrati lica, strojeve,

ulice, zgrade, sav taj svijet

što se poput filma odmata

zato se držim rutine,

razmjenjujem novčana sredstva,

odgovaram na pitanja,

ali ih baš i ne postavljam,

dok sati odzvanjaju u prolazu i slijede me

ali nisu ni oni uvijek tako užasni

- ponekad me uhvati neki napad

divlje radosti i smijem se,

a da jedva i znam zašto

možda najgori trik koji sam naučio

svodi se na to kako izdržati;

moram znati kako se ukloniti,

a to nije nešto što izaziva podozrenje

previše smo ozbiljni,

moramo naučiti žonglirati

našim rajevima i paklovima

- igra se nama igra,

moramo joj uzvratiti

naše cipele hodaju uz nas

i nose nas na grbači

kad dotakneš dno,

ne treba ništa poduzimati

preciznost je sloboda:

sto tisuća zidova

i još više ništavila

tvoje kosti znaju više

od tvog uma

(Preveo Damir Šodan)

David Albahari

*

Za mene pisanje proze, i dan-danas, posle svih romana koje sam napisao u takozvanom egzilu u Kanadi, pre svega podrazumeva kratku priču, ja pišem romane da bih se, da tako kažem, odmorio od pisanja kratkih priča.."

*

"..U stvari, postojimo kroz priče koje jedni drugima pričamo, uz teško, tragično teško saznanje da zapravo stalno govorimo samo sebi, i da je priča (ona svakodnevna koliko i ona umetnička) tek jedan varljivi omotač, jedna iluzija potrebna da bismo prevazišli sopstvenu kobnu usamljenost i vremensku ograničenost..."

*

"..Odgovorite mi, ukoliko možete, ukoliko neko zna: ako je život borba, ako je život stremljenje ka nekom cilju, ka nekoj još nepoznatoj svrsi, protiv čega se, onda, treba boriti – protiv smisla ili protiv besmisla?."

David Albahari,

Izabrane priče

Remco Campert

OTPOR

Otpor ne počinje velikim riječima

nego malim djelima

kao što oluja počinje

tihim šuštanjem u vrtu

ili mačkom kojoj se pomrači um

kao što široke rijeke počinju

malim izvorom

skrivenim u šumi

kao što vatrena stihija počinje

istom šibicom

koja pali cigaretu

kao što ljubav počinje pogledom

dodirom nečime

što primijetiš u tuđem glasu

time da sebi postaviš pitanje

tako počinje otpor

i onda to pitanje

postaviš nekome drugom

Remco Campert

(Prepjev: Romana Perenčinec)

Tennessee Williams

"One of the most painful realizations we must come to as artists is that the tale of the artistic trade-off being eventually satisfied is a myth. Whatever maladjustments or cruelties we felt we were dealt as a child remain with us forever, and that Achilles heel or Cassandra truth about us--that awful thing that dogs us perpetually--is never alleviated by applause or money or recognition by those we feel have what we lack or those who witness what we do.

"What the true artists have done--and all true artists are also survivors, so rid yourself of the self-image of an open wound--is to incorporate all of these flaws into the beautiful tapestry they have decided they will become. They do not delude themselves about their flaws; they glory in them and put them to use. Whatever else, these flaws are what help us to write what we write, or act what is acted. And once you're mature, you find that that is no small reward."--

Tennessee Williams/Interview with James Grissom/1982

Tin Uljević

TRIDESET GODINA PUTOVANJA

Anđele, pogledaj natrag kući

i plači;

no meni pusti da budem jači;

ja neću ući.

Mrzi me da gledam svoju mladost.

Mrzi me da me prošlost veže.

I u bijedi ima radost

što nema mreže.

Ja nemam mreže, ja nemam veže.

Ja gubim sebe desetljeća.

Ima u meni pomama cvijeća,

i još imam ravnoteže.

Čemu se vraćati na stara mjesta?

Ja mrzim groblja i starinu,

i cijenim svjetlo i širinu:

postoji cesta.

Imaju kuće stare i nove.

Tuđe.

Ja nemam kuće.

Ništa me ne zove.

Trideset godina putovanja,

brda prokletstva.

Bez posla i bez zanimanja,

bez sredstva.

Sotono, ne daj mi kući.

Anđele, plači.

Ja stradam, ja sam jači.

Ja neću ući.

Tin Uljević

Bekim Sejranović

***

Nije svatko kovač svog života. Nije nitko. Na neke stvari možeš utjecati, na neke ne. Nešto kuješ, a nešto nosiš kako ti je skovano. No, i jedno i drugo, i to sto kuješ i to što ti je skovano, zapravo su okovi. Sanduk iz kojeg ćeš kad tad morati izvući ruku ili ćeš biti uhvaćen.

Bekim Sejranović (1972-2020)

Boris Maruna

PJESMA O LJUBAVI

Kao cvijeće po onim grobovima,

kud se moja domovina prostire

i more je riječ na usni Boga

Tako si nejednako raspoređena,

ljubavi

Čitav život bio je osjećanje

tvog pogleda s jedne ploče

davnih prezimena

I čuješ protjecanje vode

i zveket oružja čuješ,

i ne sustaješ

Da nitko ne opjeva bolje

tamnu mahovinu tvojih

očiju; tugu tvojih otoka

Da me ne sustignu oni,

koji te nikada neće

poznavati

Velika je tvoja opomena,

Mati, i veliko je tvoje ime

u grlu smjelog ratnika

Koji uzmiče, braneći te

Boris Maruna (1940-2007)

Oscar Wilde

Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)

ŽIVOTOM NE VLADA VOLJA...

Životom ne vlada volja ili namera. Život je pitanje nerava, vlakana i sporogorećih ćelija u kojima se misao krije, a strast doživljava snove. Možda zamišljaš da si bezbedan i smatraš sebe jakim. Međutim, neočekivana nijansa boje u sobi ili na jutarnjem nebu, neki naročiti miris koji si nekada voleo i koji budi divna sećanja, stih iz zaboravljene pesme na koji si nekad naišao, akord iz muzičkog dela koje si prestao da sviraš - kažem ti, Dorijane, od takvih stvari zavisi naš život.

(Preveo David S. Pijade)

Jack Kerouac

Jack Kerouac (12.3.1922. - 21.10.1969.)

123. KORUS

Bit je shvatljiva u riječima

koje blijede dok se približavaju.

Što činiti, Bodhisattva?

O živi mirno; živi da bi volio

Svakoga

Budi usrdan ispod stabala

U ponoć na tlu.

Nema nade u prostoru

raspršene tame

koja se skupljala

još od Mojsija

Život je isto što i smrt

ali duša ide dalje

u istoj zasljepljujućoj svjetlosti.

Jedenje je isto što i ne-jedenje

Ali želudac je uporan

Mišljenje se nastavlja.

Moraš prestati misliti

prestani disati.

Kako da putuješ od Zbrke

do

Zbrke?

Oprosti svakome svoje vlastite grijehe

I pazi da im kažeš

Da ih voliš kako i jest.

(Prepjev Borivoj Radaković)

Maya Luna

I wanted to know Truth

So I stopped looking

I Opened my body

Until Truth found

Me

I wanted to know Love

So I stopped missing it's

Absence

I Savored every texture

In the wilderness of this

Moment

Until finally Love revealed

Me

I wanted to know Power

So I stopped pushing my will

Onto reality

I Let Go from deep inside

Until the Power moved

Me

I wanted to know Passion

So I stopped reaching for

Perfection

I let my heart melt

Into the flame

Of Life's longing

Until Passion became one with

Me

I wanted to know Creation

So I merged with the pulse

At the core of Existence

I wanted to know Innocence

So I Drank my own

Presence

I wanted to know God

So I dropped the arrow of My body

And finally remembered to

Receive

They told me waking up

Was a complicated affair

They told me to cut myself

Apart

Who would have thought that

Flesh and blood contained

The Mystery of Existence

Who would have thought

That the Elixir was

Inside me

They wrote all the books

And gave all the talks

I never knew my own

Body

Was

The Teacher

Maya Luna

Henry Miller

"The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort… It is not the most comfortable life in the world but I know that it is life, and I am not going to trade it for an anonymous life in the brotherhood of man—which is either sure death, or quasi-death, or at the very best cruel deception."

Henry Miller

Rabindranath Tagore

"I seem to have loved you

in numberless forms,

numberless times,

in life after life,

in age after age,

forever.

My spellbound heart has

made and remade the

necklace of songs

that you take as a gift,

wear 'round your neck

in your many forms,

in life after life,

in age after age,

forever.

Whenever I hear

old chronicles of love,

its age-old pain,

its ancient tale of being

apart or together.

As I stare on and on

into the past,

in the end you emerge,

clad in the light of a

pole-star piercing the

darkness of time:

You become an image of

what is remembered,

forever.

You and I have floated here

on the stream that brings

from the fount.

At the heart of time,

love of one for another.

We have played alongside

millions of lovers,

shared in the same

shy sweetness of meeting,

the same distressful tears

of farewell;

Old love but in shapes

that renew and renew

forever.

Today it is heaped at your feet,

it has found its end in you

the love of all man’s days

both past and forever:

universal joy,

universal sorrow,

universal life.

✨

The memories of all loves

merging with this One

Love of ours;

And the songs

of every Poet past

and forever."

Rabindranath Tagore,

Unending Love