Miroslav Mika Antić ~ poezija

                                                    Besmrtna pesma

I

Ako ti jave: umro sam
a bio sam ti drag,
mozda će i u tebi
odjednom nešto posiveti.
Na trepavicama magla.
Na usni pepeljast trag.
Da li si ikad razmišljao
o tome šta znači živeti?
Ko sneg u toplom dlanu
u tebi detinjstvo kopni.
Brige…
Zar ima briga?
Tuge…
Zar ima tuga?
Po merdevinama mašte
u mladost hrabro se popni.
Tamo te čeka ona
lepa, al lukava duga.
I živi!
Sasvim živi!
Ne grickaj kao miš dane.
Široko žvaći vazduh.
Prestiži vetar i ptice.
Jer svaka večnost je kratka.
Odjednom nasmejani
u ogledalu nekom
dobiju zborano lice.
Odjednom: na ponekom uglu
vreba poneka suza.
Nevolje na prstima stignu.
Godine postanu sivlje.
Odjednom svet, dok hodaš
sve više ti je uzan
i osmeh sve tiši
i tiši
i nekako iskrivljen.
Zato živi, al sasvim!
I ja sam živeo tako.
Za pola veka samo
stoleća sam obišao.
Priznajem: pomalo luckast.
Ponekad naopak.
Al nikad nisam stajao.
Večno sam išao.
Išao…
Ispredi iz svoje aorte
pozlaćen konac trajanja
i zašij naprsla mesta
iz kojih drhte čuđenja.
I nikad ne zamišljaj život
kao uplašen oproštaj,
već kao stalni doček
i stalni početak buđenja.

II

A onda, već jednom ozbiljno
razmisli šta znači i umreti
i gde to nestaje čovek.
Šta ga to zauvek ište.
Nemoj ići na groblja.
Ništa nećeš razumeti.
Groblja su najcrnji vašar
i tužno pozorište.
Igrajući se nemira
i svojih bezobličja,
zar nemaš ponekad potrebu
da malo krišom zađeš
u nove slojeve razuma?
U susedne budućnosti?
Objasniću ti to nekada
ako me tamo nađeš.
Znaš šta ću ti učiniti:
pokvariću ti igračku
koja se zove bol,
ako se budeš odvažio.
Ne lažem te.
Ja izmišljam
ono što mora postojati,
samo ga nisi jos otkrio,
jer ga nisi ni tražio.
Upamti: stvarnost je stvarnija
ako joj dodaš nestvarnog.
Prepoznaćeš me po ćutanju.
Večni ne razgovaraju.
Da bi nadmudrio mudrost,
odneguj veštinu slušanja.
Veliki odgovori
sami sebe otvaraju.
Posle bezbroj rođenja
i nekih sitničavih smrti,
kad jednom budeš shvatio
da sve to što si disao
ne znači jedan život,
stvarno naiđi do mene
da te dotaknem svetlošću
i pretvorim u misao.
I najdalja budućnost
ima svoju budućnost,
koja u sebi čuje
svoje budućnosti glas.
I nema praznih svetova.
To, čega nismo svesni,
nije nepostojanje,
već postojanje bez nas.

III

Ako ti jave: umro sam,
evo šta će to biti.
Hiljade šarenih riba
lepršaće mi kroz oko.
I zemlja će me skriti.
I korov će me skriti.
A ja ću za to vreme
leteti negde visoko.
Upamti: nema granica,
već samo trenutnih granica.
Jedriću nad tobom u svitanja
niz vetar klizav ko svila.
Razgrtaću ti obzorja,
obrise doba u povoju
i prizore budućnosti
lepotom nevidljivih krila.
I kao nečujno klatno
zaljuljano u beskraju,
visiću sam o sebi
kao o zlatnom remenu.
Prostor je brzina uma
što sama sebe odmotava.
Lebdeću u mestu, a stizaću
i nestajaću u vremenu.
Odmoriću se od sporednog
kao galaktička jata,
koja su srasla pulsiranjem
što im u nedrima traje.
Odmoriću se od sporednog
kao ogromne šume,
koje su srasle granama
u guste zagrljaje.
Odmoriću se od sporednog
kao ogromne ptice,
koje su srasle krilima
i celo nebo oplele.
Odmoriću se od sporednog
kao ogromne ljubavi,
koje su srasle usnama
još dok se nisu ni srele.
Zar misliš da moja ruka,
koleno,
ili glava,
mogu da postanu glina,
koren breze
i trava?
Da neka malecka tajna,
il neki treperav strah
mogu da postanu sutra
tišina,
tama
i prah?
Znaš, ja sam stvarno sa zvezda.
Sav sam od svetlosti stvoren.
Nista se u meni neće
ugasiti ni skratiti.
Samo ću,
obično tako,
jedne slučajne zore
svom nekom dalekom suncu
zlatnih se očiju vratiti.
Kažnjavan za sve što pomislim,
a kamoli što počinim,
osumnjičen sam za nežnost
i proglašen sam krivim
što ljubav ne gasim mržnjama,
već novom, većom ljubavlju
i život ne gasim smrtima,
već nečim drukčije živim.
Poslednji rubovi beskraja
tek su početak beskrajnijeg.
Ko traje dalje od trajnijeg
ne zna za kratka znanja.
Nikad se nemoj mučiti
pitanjem: kako preživeti,
nego: kako ne umreti
posle svih umiranja.

IV

Ako ti jave: umro sam,
ne brini. U svakom stoleću
neko me slučajno pobrka
sa umornima i starima.
Nigde toliko ljudi
kao u jednom čoveku.
Nigde toliko drukčijeg
kao u istim stvarima.
Pročeprkaš li prostore,
iskopaćeš me iz vetra.
Ima me u vodi.
U kamenju.
U svakom sutonu i zori.
Biti ljudski višestruk,
ne znači biti raščovečen.
Ja jesam deljiv sa svačim,
ali ne i razoriv.
A sva ta čudesna stanja
i obnavljanja mene
i nisu drugo do vrtlog
jednolik,
uporan,
dug.
Znaš šta su proročanstava?
Kalupi ranijih zbivanja
i zadihanost istog
što vija sebe ukrug.
Pa što bismo se opraštali?
Čega da nam je žao?
Ako ti jave: umro sam,
ti znaš – ja to ne umem.
Ljubav je jedini vazduh
koji sam udisao.
I osmeh jedini jezik
koji na svetu razumem.
Na ovu zemlju sam svratio
da ti namignem malo.
Da za mnom ostane nešto
kao lepršav trag.
Nemoj da budeš tužan.
Toliko mi je stalo
da ostanem u tebi
budalast,
čudno drag.
Noću kad gledaš u nebo,
i ti namigni meni.
To neka bude tajna.
Uprkos danima sivim,
kad vidiš neku kometu
da vidik zarumeni,
upamti: to ja još uvek
šašav letim i živim.








English translation :
An Immortal Poem

I
If you hear: I died
and I was dear to your heart
Maybe something inside you will also suddenly turn gray…
Have you ever at all thought about the true meaning of life?

 Like snow on your palm, childhood melting away in you.
Worries…. Are there any worries? Sorrows… Are there any sorrows?
On the ladder of imagination boldly climb up to your youth.

That beautiful but enticing rainbow is waiting for you over there.

And live your life.
Live it to the very last drop. Don’t nibble days like a mouse.
Chew the air with all your teeth.
Run faster than the winds and the birds. Overtake them all.

Because, every eternity is short.

Smiling faces, in some mirrors, all of a sudden become wrinkled.
Unexpected: at some corner, a tear ambushes you.
Troubles come tiptoeing. Years turn grayer.
All of a sudden, the world, while you’re walking
becomes more and more narrow
And your laughter quieter and quieter and somehow distorted

Therefore, live, but fully!
…

II

Really, have you sometimes thought about what does it mean to die?

And where in fact does a man disappear?

What is it that takes him away forever?

Don’t go to cemeteries.

You won’t understand a thing.

Cemeteries are the darkest fair and an ugly theatre.

You are not meant for such theatres, with no hope and fire,
the theatres of dried up tears, where graveyard rules reign,
where there are no quarrels and songs, and no applause.

And the end is known in advance.

When playing riots and your formlessness,
don’t you ever wish to secretly reach new dimensions of sense
in neighboring futures?

I’ll explain it to you one day. If you find me there.

You know what I’ll do: I’ll brake your toy,
the one called pain,
if you get up the courage.

I’m not lying to you – I invent
things that have to exist,
but you haven’t discovered them yet, because you haven’t even looked for them.

Remember: reality is more real if you add unreal to it.

You will know me by silence. The eternals don’t talk.

To outwit the wisdom, learn how to listen.
Great answers show themselves to you

After countless births and some petty deaths,
when you realize one day that all that breathing doesn’t make a life,

Really, come to me,
to touch you with light and turn you into thought.

Even the farthest future has its future that carries inside the voice of its future

And there are no empty worlds.

The thing that we are not aware of is not nonexistence
but existence without us.

III

If you hear: I died
here’s what it will really mean:

Thousands of colorful fish will be fluttering through my eye.
And the ground will hide me. And the weed will hide me.

And, in the meanwhile,
I’ll be flying high… High

Remember: there are no limits, but only temporary limits.

I’ll be sailing above you at downs. Downwind, slippery like silk.
I’ll be showing you horizons, outlines of rising era
and future sights with beauty of invisible wings.
…

I’ll be resting from unimportant, like galactic flocks,
that have grown together by pulsation ongoing in their souls.

I’ll be resting from unimportant, like deep forests,
that have grown together by branches into dense embraces.

I’ll be resting from unimportant like big birds,
that have grown together by wings and weaved a net in the entire sky.

I’ll be resting from unimportant like great loves,
that had grown together by lips, even before they met.

Do you really think that my hand, knee, or head,
could, tomorrow, turn into clay,
willow’s root
and grass?

Do you really think that a small secret, or a silly fear,
could, tomorrow, turn into silence,
darkness,
and dust?

You know I come from somewhere from the stars.
I’m all made out of light.

Nothing in me will
extinguish or shorten

I will only, as simple as that, at one random dawn,
return to my distant Sun, with gold in my eyes.

Because, I was meant for theatres
with plenty of heart and zeal, theatres of laughter and tears,
where there is no order, where there is quarreling,
and singing, and screaming, and applauses.
And the end is not known in advance.

Being punished for my every thought, let alone my every deed,
I’m suspected of tenderness
And found guilty for not extinguishing love with hatred
but with new, bigger love
and I don’t extinguish life with death,
but with something differently alive.

The last borders of infinity are just the beginning of more endless.

He who lasts longer than more lasting knows not for short term knowledge.

Never torture yourself with the question: how to survive,
But: how not to die after the final death.

IV

If you hear: I died
Don’t worry. In every century somebody mistakes me for
the tired and old.

There’s nowhere as many people as in one man.

There is nowhere as many differences as in the same things.

If you scratch through the spaces, you’ll dig me out of the wind.
I’m in the water, in the stones, in every dusk and dawn.

Being humanly versatile doesn’t mean being dehumanized

I am dividable by all sorts of things, but not destructible as well.

And all those miraculous states and renewal of myself
are nothing but a maelstrom
dull,
persistent,
long.

Do you know what are prophecies?
Molds of past occurrences and their breathlessness that chases itself around.

So why say goodbye? What are we sorry for?
I have lived a magnificent life
because I really knew how to do it
If you hear: I died,
– don’t believe it.
Because it’s something I don’t know how to do.

Love is the only air I’ve ever breathed
and laughter the only language in the world that I understand

I have just dropped by on this earth, to give you a wink.
To leave something behind
like a fluttering trace.

Therefore, don’t be sad.
The only thing I care for is
to remain silly in your eyes and strangely dear to your heart.
At night, when you look up to the sky,
you give me a wink too
let it be a secret.

In spite of gray days,
when you see a comet turning the horizon red,
remember: its me
still silly flying and living.

PESMA ZA NAS DVOJE 

Znam,
mora biti da je tako:
nikad se nismo sreli nas dvoje,
mada se trazimo podjednako
zbog srece njene
i srece moje.
Pijana kisa siba i mlati,
vrbama vetar cupa kosu.

Kuda cu?
U koji grad da svratim?

Dan je niz mutna polja prosut.

Vucaram svetom dva prazna oka
zurim u lica prolaznika.
Koga da pitam,gladan i mokar,
zasto se nismo sreli nikad?

Il je vec bilo?
Trebao korak?
Mozda je sasvim do mene dosla.
Al’ ja,
u krcmu svratio gorak,
a ona  ne znajuci-prosla.                                              

Ne znam.
Ceo svet smo obisli
u zudnji ludoj
podjednakoj,
a za korak se mimoisli.

Da, mora da je tako.

                                               

English Translation

A Poem For The Two Of Us

I know,
it must be like that:
the two of us have never met,
although we keep searching for each other
because of her happiness
and my happiness.
The drunk rain whips and strikes,
wind pulls willows’ hair out.

Where am I going?
Which town should I stop by?

The day is spilled over the opaque fields.

I’m dragging two empty eyes around
staring into faces of passers-by.
Who should I ask, hungry and wet,
why have we never met?

Or, did it happen already?
Missed a step?
Maybe she came all the way next to me.
But I,
stopped by a pub, bitter,
and she
not knowing – passed by.

I don’t know.
We’ve been around the world
in passion, crazy
even,
and we missed each other for a step.

Yes, it must’ve been like that…. 

                                                

Uspavanka

Svet ovaj,
u stvari, i nije
tako rđav i zao,
mada poneko plače,
i samuje,
i brine.
Možda je suton s krova
sasvim slučajno pao.
Možda bi i noć da svane,
možda bi i noć da sine.
Volim da svako valja
i verujem beskrajno:
svanuća postoje zato
da čovek lakše diše.
I sklapam oči.
I sanjam
potajno
to vrelo
to sjajno
jutro od vetra i vlati
što se nad krošnjama njiše.
A sigurno je važno
i od svega najpreče:
za svaki obraz na svetu
po jedan poljubac skrojiti.
I kad se umoriš gorko,
i trne u tebi veče,
divno je svoj jastuk nadom
zaliti i obojiti.
I važno je ovo,
važnije od najprečeg:
kad se toliko lepote
u sebi čuva i ima,
umeti,
da niko ne sazna,
bar komadić tog nečeg
umotati u snove
i dosanjati svima.
Tako će vek tvoj biti
manje samotan,
zao,
sa manje briga,
ružnoće,
i plača,
i straha
i tuge.
I svaki put kad budeš
komadić sebe dao
i svoje snove svetu
po vetrovima slao,
ličiće jutro na tebe
više nego na druge.

                          

English Translation

Lullaby

This world,
actually isn’t
all that bad and evil after all,
although some cry,
and lead a lonely life,
and worry.

Maybe the twilight has fallen off the roof
entirely by accident.

Maybe even the night wants to dawn,
maybe even the night wants to begin to shine.

I want everyone to do well
and I endlessly believe:
daybreaks exist so that
one could breathe easier.

And I close my eyes.
And I dream
secretly
about that hot,
that shiny
morning made of wind
and panicles,
that swing above the treetops.

And it’s surely important
and the biggest priority
to create a kiss
for every cheek in the world.

And when you get dog-tired,
and the night inside you is falling asleep,
it’s wonderful to cover and color
your pillow with hope.

And this is important,
more important than the biggest priority:

When you keep and have
so much beauty inside you,
to be able to,
without anyone finding out,
wrap at least a little piece of that something
in dreams
and finish the dreams for everyone.

That way, your lifetime
will be less lonely,
evil,
with less worries,
ugliness,
and crying,
and fear
and sorrow.

And every time when you
give a piece of yourself
and send your dreams to the world
by winds.

the morning will resemble you
more than others.

KROJ

Ukrašću tvoju senku, obući je na sebe i
pokazivati svima. Bićeš moj način odevanja
svega nežnog i tajnog. Pa i onda, kad
dotraješ, iskrzanu, izbledelu, neću te sa sebe
skidati. Na meni ćeš se raspasti.
Jer ti si jedini način da pokrijem golotinju
ove detinje duše. I da se više ne stidim pred
biljem i pred pticama.
Na poderanim mestima zajedno ćemo plakati.

Zašivaću te vetrom. Posle ću, znam, pobrkati
moju kožu s tvojom. Ne znam da li me
shvataš: to nije prožimanje.
To je umivanje tobom.

Ljubav je čišćenje nekim. Ljubav je nečiji
miris, sav izatkan po nama.
Tetoviranje maštom.

Evo, silazi sumrak, i svet postaje hladniji.
Ti si moj način toplog. Obući ću te na sebe
da se, ovako pokipeo, ne prehladim od
studeni svog straha i samoće. 

English Translation

 The Cut

I will steal your shadow, put it on myself and
show it to everybody. You will be my style
of wearing everything that is gentle and secretive. And even then, when
you become worn-out, shabby, washed-out, I wont take you off
of me. You will disintegrate on me.
Because you are the only way for me to cover up the nudity
of this childish soul. And so that I would no longer be ashamed
in front of plants and herbs.
On teared up places we will cry together.

I will sew you up with wind. And later, I know, I will confuse
my skin with yours. I don’t know if you
understand me: that is not permeation.
That is washing my face in you.

Love is cleansing by somebody. Love is somebody’s
scent, completely embroidered on us.
Tattooing with imagination.

Here, it’s getting dark, and the world is becoming colder.
You are my way of warmth. I will put you on myself
so that I wouldn’t, as boiled as I am, get a cold from
iciness of this fear and loneliness.

  Lična pesma

Ako hoćeš da si nešto
sasvim svoje,
sasvim lično,
ništa na tom belom svetu
ne sme da ti bude slično.
Možeš svemu biti vična,
al’ drukčije sve da umeš.
I toliko neobična
da ni sebe ne razumeš.
A znaš šta je neobično?
Znaš šta nikom nije slično?
Ti si.
Lično i prilično
i odlučno. I odlično.

 

Govor

Smatram velikom slabošću i stvarno bih bio
potišten kada bih sve ovo sto osećam,
morao da ti objašnjavam hudim jezikom
čoveka: rečima sumnjivim, rovitim, razjedenim
i nekorisnim.
Postoje svakodnevne, sasvim obične stvari,
koje su mnogima tajna.

"Najčvršća vrata su ona koja su širom otvorena,
kaže jedan prastari zapis sa Tibeta.

Postoji govor koji će neko otkriti sutra, a
možda niko neće ni pokušavati da ga
otkrije. Ali ti ga već sada moraš obuhvatiti
mislima.
Jer to je jezik značenja, a ne dijalekt naziva.

Postoje kulture gestova, disanja ili vida.
Postoji vreme vremena i prostiranje prostora.
Postoji lepota lepote. Postoji istina istine,
stvarnost stvarnog, volja volje i moć moći.
Postoji kretanje kretanja, razmišljanje razmišljanja,
... postoji i ljubav ljubavi, sine moj.

Sve se redje usudjujem da izgovaram reči, jer
uvek znače drugo nego sto ja to želim.
Sve dalje su od govora i teško ih razabirem
u šumovima beskraja.

Pišem umesto tebe Snežani i Alisi. Šaljem
telegrame Pinokiju i Malom Princu. Javljam
se bar jednom dnevno telefonom
Galebu Džonatanu Livingstonu i Pepeljugi.
Ali ni reči odgovora. Znači da misle
na nas.
Ko zna glasove misli, retko kada se oglasi
glasom govora.
Ljudi se poštuju rečima, a vole ćutanjem.
 

English Translation

 

The Speech

I consider it a big weakness and I would really be
depressed if
I would have to explain to you, in plain language,
with words suspicious, raw, eaten up and useless
all this that I feel.
There are everyday, completely ordinary things,
that are a secret to many people.
“The strongest door is the one that is wide open,
according to an ancient Tibetan script.
There is a talk that someone will discover tomorrow, but
maybe nobody will even try to discover it.
But you must try already to embrace it with thoughts.
Because that is the language of meanings, and not dialect of names.
There are cultures of gestures, breathing and sight.
There is time of times and area of areas.
There is beauty of beauty. There is truth about truth,
reality of real, will of will and power of power.
There is movement of movement, thinking of thinking,
… there is also love of love, my son.
I dare to use words less and less often, because
they always have a different meaning to what I want them to mean.
They are further and further from the talk and I find it hard to understand them
in the noises of infinity.
Tissue gets tattooed by tissue with heritage marks. That is
what my silence with you is like tonight. Layer by
layer, shell by shell, mucus by mucus, fatigue
among us, civilizations of protozoans, eras of
viruses, cells of stones and air, and skin stuffed
with water and eternity.
It’s as if we were communicating in all
times, now in this moment, in which
we’ve found each other.
Instead of writing to you, I am writing to Snow White and Alice.
I’m sending telegrams to Pinocchio and The Little Prince.
I call Jonathan Livingston seagull and Cinderella on the phone
at least once a day. But there’s no answer.
Means that they think of us.
Those who know the signs of thoughts, rarely
use spoken language.
People respect each other with words, but love each other by silence.