August 28, 2011 » Stara, mrzovoljna pisaća mašina / The Old, Cranky Typewriter

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Stara, mrzovoljna pisaća mašina
Bila je slatki mali čistač cipela,
naizgled spremna da ih licka,
iako nije to znala,
a čak i da je znala,
nikad to ne bi rekla.
Hej, pa bila je glupa?!
Sad je stara mrzovoljna pisaća mašina,
uvek spremna da ih bocka,
iako to ni ne zna,
a čak i kad bi znala,
nie bi je bilo briga.
Hej, pa letargična je?!
Ne shvataju.
Ne shvataju.
Ne zlato.
Ne reči.
Samo…
__________________________________
The Old, Cranky Typewriter
She was a cute little shoe-shiner,
Likely ready to lick ‘em,
Though she didn’t know
And even if she did
She would never say.
She was stupid, hey?!
Now she’s the old cranky typewriter,
Always ready to kick ‘em,
Though she doesn’t know
And even if she would,
She wouldn’t

 

August 23, 2011 » Sanjari umiru / Dreamers Die

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Sanjari umiru
Sanjari plaču,
sanjari lete.
Sanjari nikad ne presuše.
Sanjari opažaju,
sanjari savetuju,
sanjare lako uguše.
Sanjari umiru.
Pogledaj kako plačem,
jer ne mogu da letim,
ali neću presušiti.
Pogledaj kako opažam,
jer ne mogu da savetujem
…ne bih da te gušim.
Sanjari umiru.
______________________
Dreamers Die
Dreamers cry,
Dreamers fly.
Dreamers never run dry,
Dreamers notice,
dreamers advise,
Dreamers get suffocated on fly.
Dreamers die.
Look at me cry,
For I cannot fly,
But I won’t be running dry.
Look at me notice,
Since I cannot advise,
…I don’t want to suffocate you.
Dreamers die.

 

August 22, 2011 » Sunovrat / Downfall

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Sunovrat
Iskopala sam ovu rupu,
niko me nije terao
i rasprsnuću se u komadiće
onda kad bude povikala na mene.
Nije mi bila potrebna,
ali tako to ide.
I niko je nije terao
da mi potpomaže u kopanju.
Onda sam propala kroz nju.
Ne kopaj se dok te kopam.
Ne kopaj se dok te kopam.
Ne kopaj se dok te kopam.
Ne kopaj se dok te kopam.
Dole sam imala neke ptice,
zvezde i Mesec,
plastične i staklene čaše,
te mnogo…ne znam!
Ne znam šta je to bilo,
ali znam šta to nije
i znam šta neće nikad biti.
Dole sam imala neke viljuške,
kišu i Sunce,
zvuk i neke glasove,
kakva pogrešna rabota!
Ne znam šta je to bilo,
ali znam šta to nije
i znam

 

August 12, 2011 » Na raskršću / On The Crossroads

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Nikola, my dad’s long-term friend and now my and mother’s friend once freaked out when I told him that nonsense sentences come to my mind when I fall asleep and that I wish I could write them. When I told him some of those, he said: “Please, don’t tell this to anyone, people will be scared of you.”
And I didn’t. It’s been seven years and people are scared of me, either way. I’m loud, I talk a lot, I offer help to everyone, all the time and I’m of a bigger body frame despite not being tall. VERY.SCARY. Not to

 

August 5, 2011 » Kesa bez kostiju / Bag With No Bones

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Kesa bez kostiju
A ja sam noćas spavala pod sivom tavanicom,
i posmatrala kako se na njoj formiraju sazvežđa,
ne primećujući da je upravo svitalo,
te da te zvezde svakako ne dolaze s neba.
Dovraga, gde sam ja to?
Kako sam stigla ovde?
Hoću li i odavde biti izbačena?
Naravno da hoću.
Sećam se samo da sam pala sa jednog groznog mesta,
da su mi skoro sve kosti bile polomljene
i da sam pri sebi imala kesu, kesu bez kostiju.
I onda sam se opet našla na groznom mestu,
gde više nije bilo nijednog zelenog lista
i pomislila: “Ono je bio samo san. Priviđenje.”
I svaki dan sam mislila na to priviđenje,
u nadi da će

 

August 2, 2011 » Tegla / Jar

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Random thoughts on totally random people’s relationships, I don’t even know the female in the story that inspired me, I just heard of her. But that’s enough for this one.
Tegla
Našao ju je na drugoj strani zemlje,
ubedio ju je da ga je oduvek volela,
a onda ju je zatvorio u veliku teglu,
spolja polepivši sopstvene portrete.
I on meni kaže da je ljubav jednostavna,
da treba samo da ćutim i slušam,
da se divim i trepćem
i da će neko jednog dana biti moj bog.
Oprosti, prijatelju, odakle ti to da mi treba bog?
Neću ja nikakvog boga.
I ona sad spava, u gradu čudnih isparenja,
a ispod kostiju lobanje joj

 

July 31, 2011 » Ludi konj / The Insane Horse

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I started writing this late in April, with a specific horse in mind. I’m not sure if the said horse is still alive, but he indeed held the territory inside of a specific circle and seemed to be really posessive about it.
And then? I lost the poem and I found it tonight, while complaining to two different people, of two different genders, from two different backgrounds, in two different countries, one a couple of km away and one halfway around the world, that I cannot find them. And somehow, a totally unrelated conversation with them contribute to the insane horse’s

 

July 28, 2011 » …u mene ostatak te koze! (izmenjena) / …I’ve got the rest of that goat! (edit)

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This is an edited version of what I wrote this evening. The full version has a bit of a longish rambling after the first two verses and refrains. I’m not comfortable with sharing it at this time.
…u mene ostatak te koze!
Imam sve te večeri u boci.
Možda ću je baciti u reku,
pa neka se malo prošeta do mora,
ode nekom drugom ko će je otčepiti
i onda će mu istrtljati
mojih prethodnih nekoliko sedmica.
U cara Trajana kozje uši…
…u mene ostatak te koze!
Imam sve te večeri u kofi.
Možda ću je zakopati u zemlju,
pa neka tu poraste i drvo,
ode nekom drugom ko će ga

 

July 27, 2011 » Svi su hteli tvoj motorkolač / Everyone wanted your motorcake

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Svi su hteli tvoj motorkolač
Svi su hteli tvoj motorkolač,
zato ga niko stvarno neće imati,
svi su hteli tvoj motorkolač,
zato tu više nema ničeg da se oseti.
Ptice malog mozga.
Ptice tako malog mozga.
Svi su hteli tvoj motorkolač,
niko više tu neće progledati,
svi su hteli tvoj motorkolač,
niko tu ništa više neće biti.
Ptice malog mozga.
Ptice tako malog mozga.
_____________________________________
Everyone wanted your motorcake
Everyone wanted your motorcake,
Now nobody has it for real,
Everyone wanted your motorcake,
Now there’s nothing left to feel.
Small-brained birds,
Such small-brained birds.
Everyone wanted your motorcake,
Now nobody has eyes to see,
Everyone wanted your motorcake,
Now there’s nothing left to be.
Small-brained birds,
Such small-brained birds.

 

July 25, 2011 » Pismo Mikiju / A Letter To Mickey

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This is the second offspring of what I came up with yesterday and explained with the last poem.
Want its meaning? Actually, I’m comfortable with sharing: when we were children, there was a magazine called Mikijev zabavnik, about Mickey Mouse and co. There was a section with readers’ letters, called Mikijeva pošta (Mickey’s mail) and children were writing letters to Mickey, asking questions. They were hungry for knowledge, which was much harder to obtain than it is today. And nowadays, most people are incredibly ignorant. The more we can learn, the more the Internet and books allow us too, the less

 
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