RADOMAN KANJEVAC - poetry


TITLES:


Melancholy
Wake Me Up...
Rublev
The Moon
When Youíre Asleep



Melancholy


Is pathetic the only thing that remains
After a sleepless night
After a river with islands flowing like barges
After a hope chewed up like grass in a rhinoís mouth
But perhaps all such questions are superfluous
Sometimes I feel Iím floating like a somnambulist
Between the sky and your skyscraper
That will be torn down at the moment when I wake up
Up in those heights
I feel only the windsí messing around
Your even-paced breathing
Pains in my eyelids
Entire universe upon your pillow
The Danube, flat like writing paper
And me
By your misty windowpanes
Chirruping with sparrows...



Wake Me Up Only When You Make Sure Iím Really Dead


If you feel music in my verses
It is not because I have an ear for music
It is because your nails are touching my nerves ever so slightly
Like the artistís fingertips upon guitar strings
And my heart is beating like a drum in the rhythm of your steps and your words
At the end of the poem,
I close my eyes silently like the sizzle cymbals are closed at the end of a ballad
While my fingers keep on playing a melancholy tune
Wake me up only when you make sure Iím really dead
When my words are hanged like notes committing suicide upon the violin key
When the poem ceases to remind you of me
When the evening comes on time, and the morning is unexpectedly late
When the saints go marching in


Rublev



A movement of your hand
Connects the soul with silence
A century of minutes
The world is small
You will find everything easily, just
Turn off the road

Three angels like three butterflies
Floating around your shadow
The paint is dripping
From the walls of the old monasteries
Someone is shouting: Andrei, my son, where are you
It is your mother


The Moon


From a reasonable distance, indifferent like a police constable
The moon surveys the Nature
The earth revolves around itself like the wheel on the roulette of the universe
Only now and then noticing the stars
Lit like lanterns in the quarters of old towns
Without realizing the finiteness of the infinite
He remembered her face at an early evening
Her words flying weightlessly, like feathers
The sea was wrinkled by the waves, like an enormous Shar-Pei
A flock of birds, an arrow and bow over pensive water
Silence, the smell of laurel, and the mast, like a sundial on a nutshell
The unassuming lightness of fallacy and seductiveness of walking out of step
Athens slowly travels over the sky and I wander through freedom
Thought Ulysses



When You're Asleep


When you're asleep
I see everything on your face:
Wars end upon your lips
And peace contracts are signed upon your forehead
Your eyebrows, like two black clouds
Above the sea that sleeps beneath your eyelids
Your hair like all the forests of the earth
Your nostrils, like two warm volcanoes,
Your nose, like a ridge in the midst of the pacific Ocean.
What is planet - in comparison with a head like that?!
And those ears, like satellite antennae
Catching the waves that come out of me
And fly through your dreams
Like through barricades
On your lips, an everlasting gentle smile
As a sign
That still
There is some hope
There is hope.


Translated by Zoran Paunovic

All rights reserved®. Used by permission of the author
Copyright©1999. By Radoman Kanjevac