Milan Dobričić in Translation

Milan and Bird Cage, by Anahit



Auto put 

Gledam; odavde gde sam,
lepo se vidi:
kako mi mladi starimo,
i kako ne postajemo ništa.
Nekad su se duhovi jagmili
da im se ime negde upiše.
Sad hodamo asfaltiranim auto-putem sa x traka,
paralelno, jedni pored drugih,
mašemo preko metalne ograde,
srljamo nezadrživo ka horizontu.
Ako ikad, svet je danas ravna ploča
preko čijeg ruba svi, u kolonama, padamo.


Highway 

I watch; from where I stand
it can be clearly seen:
how we, the young ones, get older,
and how we accomplish nothing.
Once spirits grabbed
to have their name written somewhere.
Now we walk on asphalt highway with n lanes,
parallel, one beside the other,
we wave across a metal fence,
we rush unrestrainedly towards the horizon.
If ever, today the world is a flat board
and over it's edge we all fall, line by line.



Revolving around you

                               Mikici
Sediš mirno, na ljuljašci, ugledao sam te iz voza.
Kao krijumčari, stubovi bi šmugnuli, jedan po jedan,
čineći ovaj film izlizanijim.
Izgleda da je naš susret morao da bude star.
Ispod voza pragovi tutnje kao ponornica,
a tvoja ljuljaška je centar revolucije.
S one strane provlači se traka obzorja,
s ove se zeleni tepih razliva u mrlju.
I tek si tada, uz sam rub okna,
mahnula rukama, zaljuljavši se. 



Revolving around you

                               for Mikica
You sit, calm, on a swing, I spotted you from the train.
Like smugglers, the posts would slip away, one by one,
making this film all the shabbier.
It looks like our meeting had to be old.
Beneath the train ties roar like a river lost,
and your swing is the center of revolution.
On that side, horizon strip pulls through,
on this, the green carpet spills into stain.
And only then, by the edge of the windowpane,
did you wave your hands, starting to swing. 



Metak

U svakoj, tek ozeleneloj šumi,
usred novog mirisa iz zemlje,
zaustavljen između dva pripijena lista
stoji metak,
čeka da nastavi svoj pravolinijski let
u trenu kada mu se nešto nađe na putu. 
 
 


Bullet

In each forest, only just turned green,
surrounded by the new scent from the ground,
stopped between two glued leafs
the bullet stands,
waiting to continue its straight flight
in the moment when something stands on its path.


Pagat Ultimo

Ovoga puta sam zaista loše odigrao.
Lovac je upao u zamku, glupo,
en passant, moglo bi se reći.
To je samo načelo odbranu,
koja je i onako bila nategnuta do pucanja.
Kada sam u poslednjem trenutku,
u samrtnom ropcu, moglo bi se reći,
slavno promašio stativu
okrznuvši je sa pogrešne strane,
začuo se pisak. Voz je stigao.
Gotovo sad, šta je tu je, moglo bi se reći.
Suočenje je blizu, tu je, za vratom,
toliko blizu, kao da je tek okončano.
Ispravih se. Poslednji put, moglo bi se reći. 
 



Pagat Ultimo

This time I really played badly.
The Bishop fell into a trap, foolishly,
en passant, one might say.
That just cracked the defense,
which was already tense to begin with.
When in the very last moment,
with my dying breath, one might say,
I gloriously missed the post
scratching it from wrong side,
the whistle sounded. The train has arrived.
It’s over now, what’s done is done, one might say.
Confrontation is near, it’s here, at my back,
so close, as if it has just ended.
I straightened up. For the last time, one might say.



Dejanu Matiću 

Prijatelju
kažem ti
mir samo tražim i ne mogu da ga nađem.
Prilazim manastiru za tobom
(sećam se)
ali moje pobude su crne:
ja
želim
mir.
I besnim
a obala je opet sve dalja.
Kako bi bilo verovati
u nešto?
U išta?
Zaista samo retki ne zaostanu
i tu te vidim
prijatelju
samog.



To Dejan Matić 

My friend
I’m telling you
I only search for peace and cannot find it.
I approach the monastery following you
(I remember)
but my incentives are dark:
I
want
peace.
And I rage
and once again the coast is more and more distant.
What it would be like to believe
in something?
In anything?
Really just the rare few don’t fall behind
and that’s where I see you
my friend
alone.  



Translated by Milan Dobričić


News

'I like to use the languages of the various arts – literature, music, theatre...I think that is the spirit of the modern global era.'- poet Ivan Hristov spoke to SJ Fowler of 3AM magazine about the evolution of the contemporary Bulgarian poetry scene.

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Cosmin Borza discusses the work of Romania's 'Generation 2000' poets, including Radu Vancu and Claudiu Komartin in an essay at Asymptote.

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At the Sofia Poetics festival, which was organised by Word Express participant Ivan Hristov, Scottish based poet Ryan Van Winkle caught up with fellow festival guests SJ Fowler and Tomasz Rózycki. To hear Fowler and Rózycki discussing their work and reading some of their poetry, listen to the Scottish Poetry Library podcast here.

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