12 March 2017

Dušan Vukajlović



DUŠAN VUKAJLOVIĆ (Pančevo, Srbija, 1948 – Beograd, Srbija, 1994)

poezija / poetry:
Getsemanski vrt (Libertatea, Pančevo, 1972)
Vedar dan u Engleskoj (Književna reč, Beograd, 1975)
Uvod u bolest (Rad – Narodna knjiga – BIGZ, Beograd, 1977)
Sprave za mučenje (Prosveta, Beograd, 1980)
Južni krst (Nolit, Beograd, 1987)
Nešto s anđelima (Nolit, Beograd, 1991)
Dan (BIGZ, Beograd, 1994)
Čudo (Narodna knjiga, Beograd, 1998)
Svejedno (Rad, Beograd, 2001)
Ono (S. Mašić, Beograd, 2003)
Svilom šivena juta (Društvo Istočnik, Beograd, 2005)


preveo / translated by: Novica Petrović



VRISAK ŽIRA

Potražiš ga Sa zemlje
podigneš brižno
Očistiš ga da bi ga pridobio
Šapućeš mu reči
            koje si tajno primio
            koje ćeš tajno predavati

Podigneš se na brdo Sedneš u hlad
Pod tobom se prostre krajolik
iz srednjeg veka

Pogledaš me upitno
            ne suviše nasrtljivo
            ne suviše pokorno

I ja ti onda kažem:

Raširi dva prsta
      Stavi ga među njih
      Potom ih sklopi
b)   Ostavi mesta u vazduhu
      koji je ionako svuda oko nas
      da uđe u šupljinu
v)   Stavi prste na usta
      Duni

Ako si čista srca
Čućeš moj vrisak a tvoj smeh
Čućeš tvoj vrisak a moj smeh

Ako grehe prevelike nisi činio
Vrisak žira čućeš


Acorn’s Scream

You search for one pick it up
Carefully From the ground
You clean it up in order to win it over
Whisper words to it
            that you have received secretly   
            that you will pass on secretly

You climb a hill Sit down in the shade
Below you spreads a landscape
from the Middle Ages

You look at me inquiringly
            not too insistently
            not too humbly

And then I say to you:

a) Spread two fingers wide apart
    Place it in-between them
    Then tighten them around it

b) Leave room in the air
    which is all around us anyway
    let it enter the cavity

c) Place your fingers on your mouth
    Blow

If your heart is pure
You’ll hear my scream and your laughter
You’ll hear your scream and my laughter

If you haven’t committed sins too gross
You’ll hear acorn’s scream



VEDAR DAN U ENGLESKOJ

Nebo onevinjeno smehom
kao lice Velšanina iz
lošeg hotela u Westbourn parku
što izaziva
što draži
što milovanje hoće
davno neispunjeno

I kosmos u broj sažima
Bog = jedan, praznina = nula
Brišući naočare izvinjavajući se zbog
te sramne radnje
(Lajbnic je to bestidno činio razmišljajući)
potpuno nesposoban tada za:
rukovanje
pisanje
obilazak bolnice
svedočenje
seksualne odnose.
Izvanredno sposoban tada za:
stvaranje kosmosa od jedan i nula
izazivanje homoseksualnih težnji u drugih
onanisaje

Pokušavali smo zajedno po parkovima
nailazili na rasturene krtičnjake
i iscepane listove iz Četiri kvarteta
spajali ih i pravili pesme
(Velšanin je voleo Eliota)

Onda izbijali na reku
i razmišljali o LSD-u
Čitav jedan dan smo izbegli
nice day today, isn’t it
zar ne


A Bright Day in England

A sky made innocent through laughter
as the face of a Welshman from
a bad hotel in Westbourne Park
which tempts
which teases
wants caresses
unfulfilled for a long time

And the cosmos condenses into numbers
God = one, void = zero
Wiping my glasses apologising for
that shameful act
(Leibniz did it shamelessly thinking)
at such times being entirely incapable of
shaking hands
writing
visiting hospitals
giving testimony
sex.
At such times exceptionally capable of:
creating the cosmos from one and zero
provoking homosexual inclinations in others
masturbation

We tried together in parks
encountering ruined molehills
and pages torn out of Four Quartets
we put them together and made poems
(the Welshman liked Eliot)

Then we came out onto the river
and thought about LSD
We avoided an entire day
nice day today, isn’t it
is it not



UGLEDAČEŠ I TI SPRAVE ZA MUČENJE

Pratim tvoje smicalice
Pokušaj da me izbaciš iz ravnoteže
Nemeru da sačuvaš znanje
Isključiš struju Sagoriš sveću
Popališ šibice Naturiš mi mrak

Pothranjujem ti početne uspehe
Opreznost slabim Zamku gradim
Znam Stupićeš jednom
U tajnoviti prostor U kupatilo
Odvrnućeš slavinu Podmetnućeš čašu

Usred te gnusne radnje
Ugledaćeš sprave za mučenje
Drhtaćeš Priznaćeš
Tu zeka pije vodu


You Too Will See Instruments of Torture

I follow your ruses
An attempt to throw me off balance
The intention of preserving knowledge
You switch off electricity Burn down the candle
Use up all the matches Impose darkness upon me

I nurture your initial successes
Weaken your cautiousness Set up a trap
I know At one point you’ll enter
The secret area The bathroom
You’ll turn on the tap Place a glass underneath

In the middle of that heinous act
You’ll see instruments of torture
You’ll tremble You’ll confess
That’s where a bunny drinks water



UVOD U BOLEST

Postao sam viđeniji član bolesnog dela sveta
Kuće preobražene u belo i sveće Na umu mi je
Čarobni čardak iz detinjstva i odrasle priče

Kažu da se oslobodim toga ali
javljaju se još nesigurnije stvari
Nedostaju mi razgovori o noćnom zamku
i Dami koja je tužna

Zauzvrat mogu da sedim dugo koliko hoću
Tamo odakle dolazim
Sve je protivzakonito Ne hranim se
i neki moji delovi dostižu
čistoću Boga Koji Se Kupa


 An Introduction to Illness

I have become a well-respected member of the sick part of the world
Houses turned white and candles I’m thinking of
A magic mansion from my childhood and adult stories

They tell me to get rid of it but
even more uncertain things appear to me
I miss conversations about a castle at night
and a Damsel who is melancholy

By way of recompense I can sit as long as I like
Where I come from
Everything is illegal I do not feed
and some parts of me attain
the purity of God Who Washes Himself



KNJIŽEVNO VEČE

Pesnik je izvadio svoje pesme
Ugasio cigaretu
            Spreman na suočavanje
            Stidljiv i drzak
U sali otpor još nije ugušen
Organizator govori i namiguje
Lagano ga razumevaju
            Milo ga već pogledaju

Potom kako i priliči
Događaj počinje

No koga će dečko moj
            Da ubedi pesma
Tvoje neubedljivo telo
            Lažno ti lice

Ropstvu nesklono
            Građanstvo se buni
            Lukavo izmakavši
Pesniku tlo pod nogama i pesmu

Poslednjim pokretom ovaj ih gađa
najgorim stihom i gubi

Iznose u noć dečak mog u
Nepogodu
Pale radio Rasploženi


Poetry Reading

The poet took out his poems
Stubbed out a cigarette
            Ready for confrontation
            Shy and bold
In the hall resistance has not been overcome yet
The organiser speaks and winks
They are slowly beginning to understand him
            They are giving him benign looks already

Then as is befitting
The event begins

But who will my boy manage
            To convince The poem
Your unconvincing body
            Your false face

Not partial to slavery
            The citizens resist
            By slyly sweeping
The carpet and the poem from under the poet’s feet

Making his last move he throws
his worst verse at them and loses

They carry my boy out into the night into
The storm
They switch on the radio Feeling good



PESNIČKA UMETNOST

Kada se latiš ove pesme
Iznudi rečniku preciznu reč
Na početku Potom stavi tačku
Ostalo je manje važno Opširni
način zadaje više truda
Skrati obavezno Treba brzo raditi
Rukopis prekucati
Na kraju nemarno Dve poslednje
reči zalepiti

Potom budi dobar prema čitaocu
Smeši se A ako ima nešto da
se pojede ili popije
Ne bi naodmet bilo


The Art of Poetry

When you tackle this poem
Make the vocabulary yield a precisely fitting word
At the beginning Then put a full stop
The rest is less important A wordier
approach requires more effort
Cut it short by all means One should work quickly
Retype the manuscript
Be offhand towards the end Tack on
the last two words

Then be good towards the reader
Smile And if there is anything
to eat or drink
It wouldn’t be amiss



TRAG PESME U BOLESTI

Jula 1976 godine U bolnici
Jave mi da je Partizan
osvojio fudbalsko prvenstvo
za tu godinu

Potom je lekar obavio
uobičajenu prepodnevnu vizitu
Biće bolje Stanje se popravlja
Uskoro napolje

Posle dobrog sna Setio sam se
da podatak o fudbalu
nije interesantan za poeziju

Još uvek nisam odgonetnuo
čemu onda poezija


A Poem’s Trace in Illness

In July 1976 In hospital
They informed me that Partizan FC
had won the national football championship
that year

Then the doctor came
for his usual morning visit
It would be OK My health was improving
I would be discharged soon

After a good sleep I remembered
that the bit of information about football
was of no interest for poetry

I still haven’t fathomed
what the purpose of poetry is then



SEČA

                        doktoru

Šta vidiš,
                        kožu, iza nje nešto, ne znam,
venu, meso.

Još iza šta vidiš,
bubreg, srce,
organe što odnose hranu i vraćaju,
tebi da proučiš.

Šta vidiš,
mene što lebdim,
oko tvog događaja,
oko moje molitve,
oko tvoje namere,
tvoje žabe, tvog sečiva na žabi,
šta vidiš, kaži.

Kad okreneš mrtvo čeljade naopako,
kad ga dodirneš,
a ne čuje te, ne vidi te,
oprašta ti,
vidiš li Ono oko srca, Ono, znaš.

O Bože, vidi li da nema onog tak
                        da nema onog tik

Oprosti mu, Bože,
on vidi onda kuda idemo,
on vidi onda, ponovo mu oprosti,
odakle dolazimo.


Cutting

                        to a doctor

What do you see,
                        skin, something behind it, I don’t know,
a vein, flesh.

Further behind what do you see,
a kidney, the heart,
organs that take food away and bring it back,
to you to study.

What do you see,
me floating,
around your event,
around my prayer,
around your intent,
your frog, your blade on the frog,
what do you see, pray tell.

When you turn a dead person over,
when you touch him,
and he can’t hear you, can’t see you,
he forgives you,
do you see That around the heart, That, you know.

O God, does he see that there’s no tic
                                that there’s no tac
Forgive him, God,
he sees then where we’re going,
he sees then, forgive him anew,
where we’re coming from.



46. MI JE GODINA

46. mi je godina, pitaš me, lukavo, šta jesam,
kako je proteklo, u mali izveštaj da sažmem.
Precizno, čitko, ogoljeno,
i, znao si to, dobijaš tekst o onome što nisam,
kratak, nesrećan, konačan.
A nisam:
nikuda nikad otputovao,
nisam video velike gradove,
istoriju miliona spojenih nesreća,
ni sela na obroncima, tako ugodna navodno,
ni pustinje, naselja pod morem,
niti manastire na vrhu sveta.
Na svetim mestima nisam upoznao Boga,
a davao mi je znake, prikradao se,
nisam, dakle, video ništa,
ni sebe, ni brata, ni tebe.
Sanjao sam, a ništa nisam zapamtio,
ostao u večitom snu, večitom pokušaju.
Ni u kap vode se nisam smanjio
(moguće je, kaže vudu-mag),
obišao potoke, reke, okean,
iz česme kapnuo, pod večitim ledom odahnuo.
Ne znam jesam li i pesmu napisao,
samo sam jednu knjigu i jednu sliku video,
premalo za tvoje prijatelje.
U politiku, u večnom komunizmu, zavirio sam,
vratio se ponižen i gori.
Stao sam u red, ne ropćem, bezbedan sam,
nema pitanja, ne tražim odgovore,
to je ono što mogu.
Nisam čak, to će mi biti najviše zamereno,
ni žilet oprao, pustio mlaku vodu u kadu,
i čvrsto, za početak, stegao levu šaku.


I Am 46 Years Old

I am 46 years old, you ask me, slyly, what I have done,
how it has been, wanting me to sum it all up briefly.
To make it precise, readable, austere,
and, you knew it, you get a text about what I have not done,
brief, unhappy, final.

And this is what I have not done:
I have not travelled anywhere,
I have not seen big cities,
the history of millions of intertwined misfortunes,
nor have I seen villages on sloping hills, allegedly so pleasant,
nor deserts, settlements under the sea,
nor monasteries on top of the world.

In holy places I have not met God,
and he did give me signs, sneaking up on me,
I have not seen anything, then,
not myself, or my brother, or you.

I have dreamed, while not remembering anything,
remaining in eternal slumber, eternally trying.

I have not been reduced to a drop of water either
(it is possible, a voodoo magus says),
nor have I made a round of streams, rivers, oceans,
dripped from a tap or found respite beneath eternal ice.

I don’t know whether I have written a poem,
I have seen one book and one picture only,
too few for your friends.

I have taken a peek into politics, under eternal communism,
returning humiliated and worse than I was.

I have joined the queue, am not chafing, am safe,
there are no questions, I don’t seek answers,
that’s as much as I can do.

I have not even, this will be held against me the most,
I have not even rinsed the razor blade, let tepid water flow into the tub
and, for a start, firmly clenched my left fist.



O SVETLOSTI, O NEŽNOSTI, O MRAKU

Ca velikim odobravanjem, sa veseljem, sa strašću bez želja,
čekam taj mir, tu nepomičnost i nedodirljivost,
tu opomenu drugima, tu slast meni.

U tom nežnom dodiru neće biti nežnosti,
nijedno nadanje neće biti ispunjeno
i nikakav strah neće taći moje srce
i ono će se odmarati i skupljati snagu

ne za pokret i ne za mirovanje

i moji udovi će biti u položaju u kome su se zatekli,
u najboljem položaju, dakle,
i one dve-tri suze neće me skvasiti
i ja neću biti ja i ti nećeš biti ti,
ali ja ću to znati,
i ti ćeš uživati u zalasku sunca, i u kiši,
u mraku i u svetlosti,
ali sve će se odvijati jedno za drugim,
i ti ćeš praviti razlike kojih nema,
i dotaći ćeš me i mislićeš da smo se oprostili,
a nećeš dotaći ništa,
jer na ovome mestu ne možemo se rastati,
nismo se na njemu sastali, ni na nekom drugom,
jer bi to samo ovo mesto bilo.

I neće mi ova postelja biti grob, kako ćeš ti pomisliti,
samo ćemo ležati na velikoj vodi oboje,
i udaljavati se i sastajati se
i samo mali osećaj krivice će nas spajati u budućnosti,
kako ćeš ti nazivati ono što preostaje, ono što nas deli.


On Light, Gentleness, Darkness

With great approval, with gaiety, with passion devoid of wishing,
I await that peace, that stillness and inviolability,
that warning to others, so sweet to me.

In this gentle touch there will be no gentleness,
no hopes will be fulfilled
and no fear will touch my heart
and it will rest and gather strength

not for motion and not for stillness

and my limbs will remain in the position they were in,
the best position, then,
and those few tears will not moisten me
and I won’t be I and you won’t be you,
but I will know that,
and you will enjoy the sunset, and the rain,
darkness and light,
but they will unfold one after another,
and you will make distinctions that don’t exist,
and you’ll touch me, thinking that we’ve bid our farewells,
but you’ll be touching nothing,
for we cannot part in this place,
we did not meet in it, or in any other,
for it would be this place only.

And this bed won’t be my grave, as you’ll think,
we’ll just both lie on deep water,
drifting apart and meeting anew,
and only a small feeling of guilt will bond us in the future,
which is how you’ll be designating what remains, that which separates us.









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