Charter Flight for Loneliness

Image

*Image found HERE

*Original below, I wrote the poem on Serbian and it’s for my dad.

Charter Flight to Loneliness

It is never hard for you to leave;
Always in the same coat, with a hat
And a suitcase with not a single trifle,
Carrying with you only memories
That tremble lively in your cornea,
Ghastly fearless.
To whom, with whom, in what name do you
Drain a glass to the last drop
On the bosom of the metal angel
High among the clouds?
Each soil bestowed upon you
A same piece of bread,
Let’s not lie to each other –
Perhaps even better;
Perhaps bloody dusks even more beautiful,
Perhaps coldness easier to shake off
And all the alewives spread their legs for you
And take you in under their long skirts,
To sleep inside your pocket
Like a well spent one hour.
You were a wedding guest to each lunation,
Gifting to each frightened lady
Perfumes,
And a better view of the stars,
Being their friend and a brother,
And a lover and a bastard
And a man;
Only a man
Who upon his wings leads
Some other people
To some other town.
Just like that.

But where?
Where else have you laid
Your shattered shards and honey
And
Am I there?
Have you ever found me on a face,
On a drifter
In the London metro?
Maybe in China,
While you were buying an orphan
Some candy with a fresh pair of shoes.
Maybe in Vienna, on some square
Where trumpets play.
Maybe at New Year’s eve
At Düsseldorf,
When everyone kisses and
Wanders of lost
Through this anthill of a world.
Escargot in France,
Wine and pizza in Rome,
But don’t you ever miss that haze –
pink and tender,
from which even the most terrible shrews
shudder –
here above Belgrade?
Do you miss the
Boardwalks and nettle,
Weathered boards?
Your favorite plate and geraniums
And always the same lupine masks.
Did not the ghosts of poets from the river
(some of them even your closest friends)
whisper into you some secret,
some shameful desire
for you to share their murky grave?
Do they not howl, like a pack,
through the green waves?
Here, right here!
Where the painter God
Lifted his tired hand to his head
And a drop of his sweat
Tangled this piece of canvas
Into a grotesque wasteland
In blue.
Then I ask myself
Who invented this biology
And this DNA
And why can’t I
Leave so easily?
Then I think:
“There’s plenty of time!”
“My bones will heal into wings, too!”
“Just like you!”,
while my soul is fasting
and rots in solitude
since it knows of itself.
You are already in Moscow.

You, you need to forgive me,
For I do not see the travelers with naked eyes;
Instead I burn with my heretic monasteries
Out of some childish love,
Out of some pure freedom
Of not knowing
What does it mean
When someone simply has to leave
And strangle each day with the break of dawn
Both hunger and poverty;
You forgive me
When I, under this glass-bell,
Find it in my rights to wish
That precisely THIS breeze
Strokes your gray hair,
Here where the bartender knows both you
And what you’re drinking
And how it was my birthday
And you were somewhere,
Out there,
Completely alone,
While I,
Up to this day,
Await teddy bears
And put my dreams in snow globes,
Titling each one with “Belgrade”
And how will I, for Heaven’s sake,
Go out like this among some foreign crowd,
Full of this
Surreal sorrow
In your name,
And doesn’t it
Really hurt
When you can’t
Even mourn
And wage this war upon your heart
For this castle amidst the Purgatory,
Which seems prettier
Than even banks of Nile,
Or Amazon, or Thames?
Oh, nevermind.

~*~*~*~*~

Carter Let za Usamljenost

Tebi nikada nije tesko da odlazis;
u istom kaputu, sa kapom
i koferom bez ikakvih sitnica,
noseci sa sobom samo uspomene
koje titraju zivahno u tvojoj roznjaci,
sablasno neustrasive.
Kome, sa kime, cemu
olizujes casu
na grudima metalnog andjela
medju oblacima?
Svako ti je tlo
isto parce hleba podarilo,
da se ne lazemo,
mozda I boljeg;
mozda lepse krvave sutone,
lakse otresivu hladnocu
i svaka ti je krcmarica rasirila noge,
i primila te ispod duge suknje svoje
i spavala ti u dzepu
kao dobro utroseni,
bezglavi jedan sat.
Svakoj si mesecevoj meni bio svat,
svakoj uplasenoj dami
poklanjao parfeme,
bolji pogled na zvezde
i bio im I drug I brat
i ljubavnik I skot
i covek;
samo covek koji
na krilima svojim vodi
neke druge ljude
u neki drugi grad.

Ali gde?
Gde si jos spustio srcu i med
i ima li i traga mene tu?
Jesi li me poznao
na nekom licu,
na nekoj skitnici
u metrou u Londonu?
Mozda kad si u Kini
sirocetu na ulici
kupio bombonu i nove cipele.
Mozda u Becu na nekom trgu
gde sviraju trube,
mozda za Novu Godinu
u Dizeldorfu,
u ponoc kad se svi ljube
i gube
senke svoje
u ovom mravinjaku od sveta.
Puzevi u Francuskoj,
u Rimu vino i pizza,
‘al zar ti ne zafali ponekad
ona izmaglica –
roza I nezna
od koje se
i najstrasnije goropadi jeze –
nad Beogradom?
Nedostaju li ti kej i korov
i trosne daske,
tanjir samo tvoj i muskatle
i uvek iznova iste maske
vucije?
Nisu li ti duhovi pesnika iz reke
(neki od njih cak i tvoji dobri drugovi)
dosapnuli neku tajnu,
neku zelju da sa njima delis
u tom mulju grob?
Ovde, bas ovde
gde je slikar Bog
umornu ruku na celo stavio,
Pa je kapi znoj
na platnu ovu
nakaradnu nedodjiju
zamrsio modrim bojama.
Pa se pitam
ko je izmislio
tu biologiju
i taj DNK
i sto ne mogu ja
tako lako da odem?
Pa se mislim:
“Ima vremena!”
“Srashce i meni u krila kosti!”,
a dusa ko da mi posti,
i samuje i trune
od kad za sebe zna.
A ti si vec u Moskvi.

Oprosti ti meni
sto putnike ne razumem
i gorim sa ovim
jeretickim manastirima mojim
iz neke detinje ljubavi,
iz neke ciste slobode,
sto ne znam sta znaci
kad neko mora da ode
i golim rukama u praskozorje
zadavi i glad i bedu;
pa mi oprosti sto pod zvonom od stakla
se usudim da zazelim
da ti bas ovde vetar
pomiluje kosu sedu,
gde kelner uvek zna
sta ces da popijes
i kako mi je bio rodjendan,
a ti si negde bio
sasvim sam,
dok ja I dalje cekam
plisane mede
i stavljam snove u kugle snezne
i na svakoj pisem
“Beograd”;
nikad se nisam makla,
i kako cu, zaboga,
ovakva medju druge,
puna neke
surealne tuge
i zar nije to bas bezveze
kad ne sme ni da se cezne
za ovim cardakom u Cistilistu
lepsim
od Nila, Amazona i Temze,
ma, nema veze!

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~ by Oloriel on January 10, 2014.

30 Responses to “Charter Flight for Loneliness”

  1. Deep, really wounded, I am sorry!

  2. Oh Oloriel! Every word of yours speaks of the human condition and the cause(sometimes improbable) of certain situations in life. Relationships are tender threads that get frayed easily and it is hard to overcome the grief of them. And distance need not be a physical one always to play its routine.
    You are a gifted poet and you so eloquently translate your work in English. I barely write anything in my native language and I am really bad at any sort of translation.
    I am always amazed by the power that radiates from the core of your poetry.

    • Thank you very much for your kind words HA. There are countless of situations I meet in life where I am left devastated, while everyone around seems to be doing fine. Same things, same everything, but they are never sad and consider me silly for being the way I am, like it is my choice.
      With relationships, one thing almost always follows the other. Physical distance becomes emotional one as well, and vice versa. There is even that proverb:”Far from eyes – far from heart”.
      You should defo write on your native language and translate it. What is always felt in the poem is the emotion and when that happens, you do not care much about the language it speaks. Poetry is like a demolition ball to the tower of Babylon. Like one moment I had, a friend showed me a song and I listened to it and I cried. I barely understood what he was singing about, but I just somehow knew it’s sad.
      So yeah, you should give it a try 😀

  3. incredibly good

  4. […] Charter Flight for Loneliness […]

  5. O draga Oloriel… ❤ Impresivno, nebitno na jezik.

    • Hvala Strelke. I hvala ti sto pises, tvoji tekstovi mi uvek pomognu, malo bolje da svarim odlaske i putovanja i da se ugledam na tvoju snagu ❤

  6. Wow!

    “And always the same lupine masks.” I loved every line but this one struck a real chord, outrageously good!

    • Thank you very much. I have serious home melancholy and I did not even leave the country yet. This is gonna be a hard ride…
      And for “lupine”, my dad’s friends always reminded me of a pack of wolves (tho I must say they are far less decadent then those beautiful creatures…. more like hyenas)

  7. Your talent never ceases to amaze me…I’m humbled that you appreciate my meger offerings. This conveys such depth of emotion such bone rattling pain and sorrow. Outstanding.

    • Thank you Melanie, but I would never call your writing meager offerings! Sometimes, it might seem as your readers are always scaling you against somebody else, but poetry that comes from the heart, like yours, will always have the highest worth 🙂

  8. Like a well spent one hour. <<<<

    Or a well spent minute. Heheh…

    Lovely piece, Oloriel. I feel pain, anger, and ultimately, resolve with great control in your voice. It certainly speaks to me and this has been my song for some time now! Beautifully written and I love the last line: perfect. :0)

    • Perhaps it was a minute indeed, I just can’t help but wonder does he even understand that one single minute completely changes,wounds and darkens the life of somebody else(somebody he was supposed to care emotionaly as well, mind you!).
      After so many years pass, you realize you have no choice but to resolve. As for the control, I am surprised but none of the people close to me understand it and judge it often. What am I supposed to do, roll over and play dead?
      It saddens me to hear a single line of this poem is somebody elses too, but it brightens my day to know that somebody else did not settle for breadcrumbs of supposed happiness, but is now conquering her own.
      Thank you very much for reading! 🙂

  9. I za ostanke je potrebna snaga. Kako sad da napišem: “..kao što je meni bila potrebna da ne zaplačem čitajući ovo”, a da ne bude sa toliko patosa?

    • Mozda i ponajveca, ne kaze se dzabe :” Najlakse je otici”
      Nemoj da si tuzan Goste, to se samo Crnjanski malo pomalja iz mene, sad kad bi i ja trebalo da pocnem da pakujem kofere 🙂

  10. Oh lovely lady ~such words into your soul. Terrific!

  11. a touching piece, pal, nicely done!

  12. al zar ti ne zafali ponekad
    ona izmaglica –
    Kako je taj prostor uma beskonačan! Nedavno sam počeo pisati nešto o tome kako bi mi falila ta izmaglica…
    Prekrasna, prekrasna pjesma, dira ravno u središte, a kapi patetike nema…

  13. You’re just so talented. Hope your year has started off great 🙂 Much love, always – N!

  14. One way ticket!?
    И заправо, ко одлази?
    Можда онај који остаје?
    Веома лепи стихови.
    Поздрав О.

  15. nice choice of image!

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