Probudi se, probudi me / Wake Up, Wake Me Up

! This post was written long ago. What you're reading is not necessarily how I feel about things in 2017. This blog was started by an 18-year-old in 2001. Please, keep that in mind before you freak out.

I thought I'd have the whole body of work for the Wrong Star series complete by the 26th of April. I never said which year, though; despite the non-opportunist in me wanting to avoid the one in 2011, no matter what. I wanted to offer a provisoral book to download, like, last Monday. And then I realised it's not over.

This one has Sleeping Beauty in its core. And, in case it was not clear by now, core is the most important word here, as it's what radiates eeeh...uh...foreverness?! I don't like the word eternity, I'm not writing about perfumes and pop songs here. The purpose of this p..m is to show that each undefined, uncertain and confusing period of time can appear as hopeless as, in this case, defined periods of time which will be over once when all our families' roots are burried deep in the ground.

Obviously, the period of time described and compared to that foreverness is lethargic, apathetic and impossible not to compare with some other periods of time - otherwise, it wouldn't end up being compared to the large swampy, almost human-free stage of the Wrong Star nopera. And yes, that's another new word. It stands for not-an-opera, thought it could also be a noplay.

Some other fairy tales sneaked in, at a certain point. I think there's some of Hades/Inferno in this, too; despite everything being so dreamy at the first sight - that is yet another point of sudden changes, isn't it? They're much better at the first step, than ten steps into them.

There's also something that often ruins my p..ms...a clear statement that the p..ms' protagonists are not amorous towards each other in any way. I don't know, I just don't feel comfortable about having anything really romantic in my p..ms, given that I have never experienced a relationship myself and that it would sound like a hillbilly writing about the quantum theory. Then again, I did write about particle physics. Maybe someday.

Probudi se, probudi me

Sve je tiho, već godinama,
prolazim tunelima cveća,
ali hodajući po gomili trnja.
Ovde, gde svaka kap vode peče,
ovde svako slovce boli.

Nalazim te na starom mestu,
spavaš otvorenih očiju,
nit' govoriš, nit' romoriš,
samo dišeš i ne pomeraš se.

Probudi se, probudi me!
Nemam nameru da te poljubim
i postanem jednoroga žaba
koja bljuje vatru.

Pogledaj se, pogledaj me!
Nemam nameru da zaspim,
samo da bih sanjala da
si, zamisli ti to, budan.

Nikoga nema već godinama.
Vučem se zaraslim putevima
među ostacima kuća,
ovde, gde je svaka jabuka otrovna,
ovde, gde se sat zustavio.

Uboden si, a ne krvariš,
imaš ogriske jabuka u ušima,
cipele ti taman, a grudi tesne,
odjednom si manji od zrna bibera.

Probudi se, probudi me!
Nemam nameru da te prodrmam
i da odletimo u vazduh
kao da nas nije bilo.

Pogledaj se, pogledaj me!
Zašto da srasteš sa kamenom,
ništa ovde ne može srasti,
ništa ovde ne može zarasti.

_________________________________

Wake Up, Wake Me Up

It's all been silent for years now.
I'm passing through flower tunnels,
Though walking on a track of thorns,
Here, where each drop of water burns you,
Here, where each letter said hurts you.

I'm finding you at the usual place,
You're sleeping with eyes wide open,
You're neither talking nor mumbling,
You're only breathing, not moving.

Wake up, wake me up!
I have no intention to kiss you
And turn into an unicornfrog
That spews out fire.

Look at yourself, look at me!
I have no intention to fall asleep,
Only so I could dream that
You're, imagine that, wide awake.

No one's been here for years now.
Dragging my feet along weed-covered roads,
Walking around remainings of homes,
Here, where each apple is a deadly one,
Here, where the clock just stopped.

You're been stung, yet not bleeding,
You have apple cores stuck in your ears,
Your shoes fit, but your chest doesn't,
Suddenly you're tinier than a thumb.

Wake up, wake me up!
I have no intention to poke you
And have us detonated,
As if we never existed.

Look at yourself, look at me!
Why mould yourself against a rock?
Nothing can be moulded here,
Nothing can be mended here.

Someday, I want to look at these and see them even darker than the absinthe, so dark that the letters cannot even be read. That would mean the light and hopeful part has crawled out of them and desaturated them, in order to enjoy its race through rallyty. That word means rally of reality.

One Reaction to Probudi se, probudi me / Wake Up, Wake Me Up

  1. Marouk says...

    "Nemam nameru da zaspim,
    samo da bih sanjala da
    si, zamisli ti to, budan."

    Au! :S
    Ili isto pišemo ili ja trosmisleno shvatam svaki stih - verovatno oba i verovatno tačno shvatam.
    "Cipele ti taman, a grudi tesne" verovatno strah svake devojke...

     
     

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