Član
- Učlanjen(a)
- 09.08.2009
- Poruka
- 362
Stevan Raičković
Stevan Raičković is a leading representative of intimate, lyric poetry in postwar Serbian literature. A prolific poet, Raickovic emerged on the Yugoslav literary scene in the early 1950s with work that challenged the socialist realism dogma dominating the immediate postwar years. Raickovic's rebellion against the prevalence of social and patriotic themes in vogue at the time assumed the form of lyric poetry focusing on the self and the sphere of personal, subjective emotions. In his formative years as a poet, Raickovic never succumbed to mainstream influence. In the turbulent 1950s, as socialist realism was banished from the literary scene and replaced by an innovative, highly cerebral poetry whose methods grew increasingly refined, Raickovic continued to be faithful to his own vision of poetry, its main features being unobtrusiveness, simplicity, and intimacy. Although Raickovic began writing at the same time as two fellow major poets, Vasko Popa and Miodrag Pavlovic, whose own work marked the advent of postwar modernism in Yugoslavia, throughout the next four decades he continued to be a supreme lyricist, his work consistently characterized by a melancholic tone, an enhanced subjectivity, and a strong devotion to nature.
But for a moment his feet paused
Indecisively in the street
(As if an invisible
Imaginary string
Had entangled them)
And they turned
And turned body and head
And the eyes in the head
And the limbs
Rather abruptly
And excessively
But strenuously
As if his whole well-defined life
Already well past its prime
Together with his thoughts
Had turned…
Something has to be done
Quickly
And in an unlikely manner
Finally.
First of all:
Lose your way home.
Enter the station.
Don’t ask about the destination
Or the time of departure
(Never mind the ticket)
But like this:
Catch a train
Any train
Which
(Solid black motionless doubtful
On a platform
Under a light)
Sit by the window.
Wait:
Travel the earth
Like an invisible mote in the sky.
That’s it
(Should have thought of it before).
Catch a train.
Keep going.
Keep going faster then the passage of time…
*
Or else:
Buy a ticket
To a place
With the strangest and most enigmatic name
(Which has long been wandering
Through our mind
Haphazardly
With its colorful sound
As if imagined).
Buy a ticket to Skofja Loka.
Travel all night long.
(Through a half-dream:
Catch sight of poorly lit and unknown stops
And lonely train dispatchers
With red signal flags in hand.)
Get off at your station.
Walk
The unknown and deserted street at down.
Order coffee in the first restaurant that’s open.
And for a long time
Think about something slowly and deeply
But undetected…
And then come
Back again
But like this
As if someone else returned to you recently
Abandoned and distant home
Instead of you…
Or else:
Stay
Forever and to the very end
In this far away place with its strange
And enigmatic name
And start a new life
Different
And completely unknown…
*
Or:
Or walk your old and familiar nocturnal streets
Without any superfluous thoughts
Back home
As you always do
Out of each night
Straight
Back home.
Ljudi se Bude Bez Oruzja
Ljudi ulaze u kuće.Otvaraju kutiju sećanja.
Zatvaraju svoje prozore
Onda još malo
Kao krišom
Gledaju kroz zavesu na asfalt u zaklaćeni krug
Bačen san eke lampe.
Iza reke
Ljudi ulaze u kolibe od blata
Malo povijenih leđa.
Slušaju
Tu negde iznad čela
Sad već samo
Pomalo
Igru vatre I trske.
Na utabanoj travi
Između naselja I grada čija su imena zagonetke
Koje neko postavlja
Vojnici
Tamni od sna
Slažu oštre piramide od pušaka.
Onda uhodaju u šator pognutih glava kao da
se klanjaju.
Inače
Svuda okolo
Ptice se pretvaraju u lišće.
Zmije I ribe se mimoilaze
Svako ka svome snu.
Vetar je svoju providnu kožu razapeo o
padinu brda
Čiji se profil topi u tamnom vazduhu.
Pod nebom
Počinje da traje iz korena
Jedno prekinuto sećanje svako na svome
uzglavlju.
Onda polako
Zvezde naviklim znakom najavljuju
Metamorfozu
I nevidljivo
Tiho se iza kulisa menjaju uloge.
Lišće se pretvara u ptice.
Zmije I pukotine se pomiču svaka ka svome
cvetu
Svaki cvet ka svom suncu.
Sad se već zna šta je vazduh
Šta nije.
To je već brdo u svojoj očiglednoj sigurnosti.
Vetar se odlepio I mili svoj prvi korak
Svoj nesigurni milimetar.
Inače
Svuda okolo
Pod krovom od lima
Pod krovom od trave ili od barske trske
Koja zviždi
Iza providnog stakla koje se osvetljava
U kamenim grudima zidova tako šarenim
Pola od sna I pola od kreča
Otvaraju se oči svih živih.
Mali
Ponovo nevini krugovi.
Trenutak je kratak I treba ga naprečac
Uhvatiti za uzde.
Ljudi se bude bez oružja.
The people awake unarmed
People enter their homes. They open memory boxes.
They shut their windows.
Then a little later
They peek
Through the curtains into the asphalt street
at swaying circles of light
Thrown by some lamp.
Beyond the river
People go into mud shacks.
Their backs are slightly bent.
They are listening
To something above their brows
The already
Faint
Play of wind and reeds.
On the trampled grass
Between settlement and town, whose names are riddles
Posed by someone,
Soldiers
Dark from dreaming
Stack their rifles in pointed pyramids.
They enter tents with their heads lowered as though
They are bowing.
Anyhow
All around
Birds are turning into leaves.
Snakes successfully imitate cracks in tree bark.
Water and fish bypass each other
Each to its own dream.
The wind has stretched its transparent skin
across the sloping hills
Whose profile melts in the dark air.
Under the heavens
An interrupted recollection flows once again from
Its roots
Each on its own pillow.
Then slowly
The stars signal a metamorphosis with the usual signs
And invisibly
Quietly exchange roles behind the scenes.
Leaves are transformed into birds.
Snakes and fissures move, each to its own flower
Each flower to its sun.
We already know what air is
And is not.
It is a mountain in its evident security.
The wind has come unglued and starts
Its uncertain millimeter.
Otherwise
All around
Under sheet metal roofs
Under grass roofs or roofs of whistling marsh reeds
Behind transparent glass beginning to light up
Within the stone torso of walls striped
With bands of dreams and whitewash
The eyes of the living are opening.
They are small
Innocent circles once again.
The moment is brief and must be seized by the reins.
The people awake unarmed.
Događaj na Stanici
Nije se tu nešto mnogo I naročito
Isprva
Dogodilo u glavi
Ali noge su za trenutak neodlucno na
ulici ipak zastale
(Kao da su o neki nevidljivi končić
Izmišljen u glavi
Ovlaš zaplele)
I okrenule se
I okrenule telo I glavu
I oči u glavi
I udove
Nekako naglo
Isuviše
Ali naporno
Kao das u celi jedan već poodmakli I
Sasvim određeni život
Zajedno sa njegovim mislima
Okrenule…
Trebalo bi sada ne[to brzo
I neobično
Napokon
I učiniti.
Pre svega:
Dom svoj promašiti.
Ući u stanicu.
Ne pitati za pravac
Ni vreme polaska
(Ne misliti na kartu)
Nego ovako:
Dokopati se voza
Bilo koga
Koji
Sav crn I nepomičan I neizvestan
Na nekom koloseku
Pod lampom
Stoji.
Sesti uz okno.
Čekati:
Kao nevidljiva trunčica nebom
Prolaziti zemljom.
Tako
(Trebalo je toga I ranije setiti se).
Dokopati se voza.
Prolaziti.
Prolaziti brže nego sama prolaznost…
*
Ili drugačije:
Izvaditi kartu
Za neko mesto
Sa najčudesnijim I najzagonetnijim nekim
Imenom
(Koje se odavno
I slučajno
Sa svojim šarenim zvukom
Kao izmisljeno
Po našoj pameti motalo).
Izvaditi katu za Škofju Loku.
Celu noć putovati.
(Kroz polusan:
Nazirati slabo osvetljene I nepoznate male
Postaje
I usamljene otpravnike vozova
S crvenim barjačićima u ruci.)
Sići na tvojoj stanici.
Koračati
Nepoznatom I tek osvanulom pustom ulicom.
U prvom otvorenom restoranu naručiti
Kafu
I dugo
Ali neosetno
O nečemu polako i duboko misliti…
I onda se ponovo
Vratiti
Ali tako
Kao drugi neko da se u tvoj tek napušteni
I daleki dom
Umesto tebe
Vratio…
Ili drugačije:
Ostati
Zauvek I do kraja
U ovom dalekom mestu sa zagonetnim i
Čudnim svojim imenom
I otpočeti iznova neki život
Drugi I sasvim nepoznati…
*
Ili:
Ili se iz one stare I navikle svoje noćne
Ulice
Bez nekih suvišnih misli
Vratiti
Kao I uvek što si se u svoj dom
Iz svake noći
Pravo
Vratio.
An Incident (event) at the Station
At first
Nothing much, nothing special
Was going on in his mind
Nije se tu nešto mnogo I naročito
Isprva
Dogodilo u glavi
Ali noge su za trenutak neodlucno na
ulici ipak zastale
(Kao da su o neki nevidljivi končić
Izmišljen u glavi
Ovlaš zaplele)
I okrenule se
I okrenule telo I glavu
I oči u glavi
I udove
Nekako naglo
Isuviše
Ali naporno
Kao das u celi jedan već poodmakli I
Sasvim određeni život
Zajedno sa njegovim mislima
Okrenule…
Trebalo bi sada ne[to brzo
I neobično
Napokon
I učiniti.
Pre svega:
Dom svoj promašiti.
Ući u stanicu.
Ne pitati za pravac
Ni vreme polaska
(Ne misliti na kartu)
Nego ovako:
Dokopati se voza
Bilo koga
Koji
Sav crn I nepomičan I neizvestan
Na nekom koloseku
Pod lampom
Stoji.
Sesti uz okno.
Čekati:
Kao nevidljiva trunčica nebom
Prolaziti zemljom.
Tako
(Trebalo je toga I ranije setiti se).
Dokopati se voza.
Prolaziti.
Prolaziti brže nego sama prolaznost…
*
Ili drugačije:
Izvaditi kartu
Za neko mesto
Sa najčudesnijim I najzagonetnijim nekim
Imenom
(Koje se odavno
I slučajno
Sa svojim šarenim zvukom
Kao izmisljeno
Po našoj pameti motalo).
Izvaditi katu za Škofju Loku.
Celu noć putovati.
(Kroz polusan:
Nazirati slabo osvetljene I nepoznate male
Postaje
I usamljene otpravnike vozova
S crvenim barjačićima u ruci.)
Sići na tvojoj stanici.
Koračati
Nepoznatom I tek osvanulom pustom ulicom.
U prvom otvorenom restoranu naručiti
Kafu
I dugo
Ali neosetno
O nečemu polako i duboko misliti…
I onda se ponovo
Vratiti
Ali tako
Kao drugi neko da se u tvoj tek napušteni
I daleki dom
Umesto tebe
Vratio…
Ili drugačije:
Ostati
Zauvek I do kraja
U ovom dalekom mestu sa zagonetnim i
Čudnim svojim imenom
I otpočeti iznova neki život
Drugi I sasvim nepoznati…
*
Ili:
Ili se iz one stare I navikle svoje noćne
Ulice
Bez nekih suvišnih misli
Vratiti
Kao I uvek što si se u svoj dom
Iz svake noći
Pravo
Vratio.
An Incident (event) at the Station
At first
Nothing much, nothing special
Was going on in his mind
But for a moment his feet paused
Indecisively in the street
(As if an invisible
Imaginary string
Had entangled them)
And they turned
And turned body and head
And the eyes in the head
And the limbs
Rather abruptly
And excessively
But strenuously
As if his whole well-defined life
Already well past its prime
Together with his thoughts
Had turned…
Something has to be done
Quickly
And in an unlikely manner
Finally.
First of all:
Lose your way home.
Enter the station.
Don’t ask about the destination
Or the time of departure
(Never mind the ticket)
But like this:
Catch a train
Any train
Which
(Solid black motionless doubtful
On a platform
Under a light)
Sit by the window.
Wait:
Travel the earth
Like an invisible mote in the sky.
That’s it
(Should have thought of it before).
Catch a train.
Keep going.
Keep going faster then the passage of time…
*
Or else:
Buy a ticket
To a place
With the strangest and most enigmatic name
(Which has long been wandering
Through our mind
Haphazardly
With its colorful sound
As if imagined).
Buy a ticket to Skofja Loka.
Travel all night long.
(Through a half-dream:
Catch sight of poorly lit and unknown stops
And lonely train dispatchers
With red signal flags in hand.)
Get off at your station.
Walk
The unknown and deserted street at down.
Order coffee in the first restaurant that’s open.
And for a long time
Think about something slowly and deeply
But undetected…
And then come
Back again
But like this
As if someone else returned to you recently
Abandoned and distant home
Instead of you…
Or else:
Stay
Forever and to the very end
In this far away place with its strange
And enigmatic name
And start a new life
Different
And completely unknown…
*
Or:
Or walk your old and familiar nocturnal streets
Without any superfluous thoughts
Back home
As you always do
Out of each night
Straight
Back home.
Ljudi se Bude Bez Oruzja
Ljudi ulaze u kuće.Otvaraju kutiju sećanja.
Zatvaraju svoje prozore
Onda još malo
Kao krišom
Gledaju kroz zavesu na asfalt u zaklaćeni krug
Bačen san eke lampe.
Iza reke
Ljudi ulaze u kolibe od blata
Malo povijenih leđa.
Slušaju
Tu negde iznad čela
Sad već samo
Pomalo
Igru vatre I trske.
Na utabanoj travi
Između naselja I grada čija su imena zagonetke
Koje neko postavlja
Vojnici
Tamni od sna
Slažu oštre piramide od pušaka.
Onda uhodaju u šator pognutih glava kao da
se klanjaju.
Inače
Svuda okolo
Ptice se pretvaraju u lišće.
Zmije I ribe se mimoilaze
Svako ka svome snu.
Vetar je svoju providnu kožu razapeo o
padinu brda
Čiji se profil topi u tamnom vazduhu.
Pod nebom
Počinje da traje iz korena
Jedno prekinuto sećanje svako na svome
uzglavlju.
Onda polako
Zvezde naviklim znakom najavljuju
Metamorfozu
I nevidljivo
Tiho se iza kulisa menjaju uloge.
Lišće se pretvara u ptice.
Zmije I pukotine se pomiču svaka ka svome
cvetu
Svaki cvet ka svom suncu.
Sad se već zna šta je vazduh
Šta nije.
To je već brdo u svojoj očiglednoj sigurnosti.
Vetar se odlepio I mili svoj prvi korak
Svoj nesigurni milimetar.
Inače
Svuda okolo
Pod krovom od lima
Pod krovom od trave ili od barske trske
Koja zviždi
Iza providnog stakla koje se osvetljava
U kamenim grudima zidova tako šarenim
Pola od sna I pola od kreča
Otvaraju se oči svih živih.
Mali
Ponovo nevini krugovi.
Trenutak je kratak I treba ga naprečac
Uhvatiti za uzde.
Ljudi se bude bez oružja.
The people awake unarmed
People enter their homes. They open memory boxes.
They shut their windows.
Then a little later
They peek
Through the curtains into the asphalt street
at swaying circles of light
Thrown by some lamp.
Beyond the river
People go into mud shacks.
Their backs are slightly bent.
They are listening
To something above their brows
The already
Faint
Play of wind and reeds.
On the trampled grass
Between settlement and town, whose names are riddles
Posed by someone,
Soldiers
Dark from dreaming
Stack their rifles in pointed pyramids.
They enter tents with their heads lowered as though
They are bowing.
Anyhow
All around
Birds are turning into leaves.
Snakes successfully imitate cracks in tree bark.
Water and fish bypass each other
Each to its own dream.
The wind has stretched its transparent skin
across the sloping hills
Whose profile melts in the dark air.
Under the heavens
An interrupted recollection flows once again from
Its roots
Each on its own pillow.
Then slowly
The stars signal a metamorphosis with the usual signs
And invisibly
Quietly exchange roles behind the scenes.
Leaves are transformed into birds.
Snakes and fissures move, each to its own flower
Each flower to its sun.
We already know what air is
And is not.
It is a mountain in its evident security.
The wind has come unglued and starts
Its uncertain millimeter.
Otherwise
All around
Under sheet metal roofs
Under grass roofs or roofs of whistling marsh reeds
Behind transparent glass beginning to light up
Within the stone torso of walls striped
With bands of dreams and whitewash
The eyes of the living are opening.
They are small
Innocent circles once again.
The moment is brief and must be seized by the reins.
The people awake unarmed.