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Milan DobriÄ?ić / Blessed Losers


Editor: Dejan Matić Cover design: Dragana Nikolić Copyright © Milan Dobričić, 2013 Translation Copyright © Novica Petrović, 2013 Copyright © Treći Trg, 2013


Milan Dobričić

BLESSED LOSERS (Selected poems) Translated from the Serbian original by Novica Petrović

Treći Trg 2013


Iz zbirke PRITISAK

KAZNA

Negde, u daljinama tuđim, biju doboši prevučeni u crno. Hladan vazduh vije na bregu između suvog drveta i mene. Vazduh ispunjava napetost golog, nesreća kletnika i strah zlog. Moje disanje – hladan vetar vije, bat srca – doboš prevučen u crno.

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From the collection PRESSURE

PUNISHMENT

Somewhere, in foreign faraway lands, a sound of drums covered with black cloth is heard. Cold air streams on the hillside, between a dry tree trunk and myself. The air is filled with the tension of the naked, the misfortune of the damned and the fear of the evil. My breathing – cold wind streaming, my heartbeat – a drum covered with black cloth.

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SOKRATOVA SMRT

U tom trenutku, kao i u mnogim nemim u životu, izgledaš kao običan sedi starac, u tom poslednjem trenutku, izgledaš kao običan starac, mnogim nemim u tvom životu, izgledaš slabo, starče, izgledaš u tom trenutku baš kao starac nedostojan otrova.

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THE DEATH OF SOCRATES

At that moment, as in many mute ones in your life, you look like an ordinary old grey man, at that last moment, you look like an ordinary old man, to many mutes in your life, you look poorly, old man, at that moment you look just like an old man unworthy of poison.

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ARHIMEDOVA SMRT

Vidi! Oko mu skače iz jednog kruga u drugi! Zemlja drhti Gledaj! Zaneo je i nas zanesen i sam! Pesak se kruni Znaj! I nas čeka sada isto što i njega! Krugovi kao mir i duh kao vreme i znanje Pokvareni Rasparčani Prekinuti izlazom.

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THE DEATH OF ARCHIMEDES

Look! His eye leaps from one circle to another! The earth trembles Look! He has enchanted us, enchanted as he is himself! The sand crumbles Know this! What awaits him awaits us, too, now! Circles like peace and the spirit like time and knowledge Broken down Taken apart Interrupted by the exitus.

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MIKELANÄ?ELOVA SMRT

Zaspao na skelama. I u mraku postoje boje. I bojovnici. Iz ruke nad dubinom, sa Ä?etkice, kaplje boja i oslikava stope vernika. Brat Juda nudi svoje talire. Avelj je zaspao u visini.

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THE DEATH OF MICHELANGELO

Fell asleep on the scaffold. Even in the dark there are colours. And warriors. From his hand over the deep, from his brush, colour drips, delineating the footprints of believers. Brother Judas offers his thalers. Abel fell asleep high up there.

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DON KIHOTOVA SMRT

Oglodani ratniče u košulji sa rukavima što ti konja sapliću Koga oslobađaš? Krećeš se među onima koje prevazilaziš svojim ludilom. Vezaće ti rukave u čvor Prizivaće te k sebi kao da si negde drugde Koga spašavaš? Umrećeš u trenu a njih će mleti oštri kraci divova na vetru.

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THE DEATH OF DON QUIXOTE

Gnawed-away warrior, in a shirt with sleeves that trip up your horse Who are you liberating? You move among those whom you surpass with your madness. They’ll tie your sleeves in a knot They’ll invite you over as if you were somewhere else Who are you saving? You’ll die in a moment and they’ll be ground by the sharp blades of giants in the wind.

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VINSENTOVA SMRT

Sve je preplavljeno bojama, težinom. Ona kulja odnekud iz tebe, i tebe guši. Bez nje urlik, sa njom gašenje u grču. Pritiska tvoje okrnjeno telo, juri po njemu kidajući ga. Svet je preplavljen tvojim bojama, težinom.

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THE DEATH OF VINCENT

Everything is flooded with colours, weight. It gushes from somewhere inside you, and chokes you. Without it – a howl, with it – being extinguished in a spasm. It presses your chipped body, rushes all over it, tearing parts off it. The world is flooded with your colours, weight.

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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.

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HIGHWAY

I’m watching; from where I am, one can see quite clearly: how we, the young, are getting older, and how we don’t become anything. Once spirits struggled to get their names inscribed somewhere. Now we walk down an asphalt highway with an n number of lanes, running parallel to one another, waving over the metal fence, we rush unstoppably towards the horizon. If ever, today the world is a flat board over the edge of which we fall in columns.

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SVET

Na nemirnoj vodi pluta sat, do pola izgrižen. Mokro, uvijeno kao papir, vreme se spliće u klupko. Kazaljka prilazi rubu. Klatno donosi jedan pokret, jedan zvuk, jednu igru prostora. Kazaljka je prišla rubu. Dosada je dala maglu koja sve mrzne. Hod se pretvorio u otisak. Kazaljka prelazi rub. Beskraj okoline, uvijača, odvija svoj kraj. 18


THE WORLD

On troubled waters, there floats a clock, half eaten away. Wet, wrapped like paper, time tangles into a ball. A clock hand approaches the edge. The pendulum makes a move, a sound, a space dance. The hand has approached the edge. Boredom has produced a fog that freezes everything. Walking turns into an imprint. The hand crosses the edge. The infinity of the surroundings, of the wrapper, unwraps its end. 19


Lopta postaje krug. Klupko postaje čvor. Krug postaje tačka. Tačka postaje pozadina. Na nemirnoj vodi pluta sat, do pola izgrižen. Kazaljka polako prelazi rub i otkucava nad mrtvom vodom.

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A ball becomes a circle. A tangle becomes a knot. A circle becomes a dot. The dot becomes a background. On troubled waters, there floats a clock, half eaten away. The hand slowly goes over the edge and ticks above dead waters.

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LUTAK

Sa ekserom u duši, šta se moglo očekivati? Možda. Da nije bilo niti. Kamen o kamen – iskra, kamen o drvo – iver. Kiša meša boje. Vetar svira timpane. Zato je bilo niti. Da ih samo nije bilo! Ovako... Otkidoh jabuku. Poteče krv. Umro je onaj što me je napravio.

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PUPPET

With a nail in your soul, what could you expect? Maybe. If it had not been for the threads. Stone against stone – a spark, stone against wood – a splinter. The rain mixes colours. The wind plays the timpani. That is why the threads were there. If only there hadn’t been any! As it is... I plucked an apple. Blood started flowing. The one who made me died.

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Iz zbirke DOVIJANJE 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.

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From the collection RACKING ONE’S BRAINS REVOLVING AROUND YOU

To Mikica

You are sitting still, on a swing, I saw you from a passing train. Like smugglers, the poles scurried away, one by one, making this film even more faded. It seems that our meeting had to be old. Under the train, the crossties rumble like an underground stream, and your swing is the centre of the revolution. On that side, the line of the horizon drags on, on this side, that green carpet spills over into a blot. And only then, almost at the edge of the window-pane, you waved your hands, swinging slightly.

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NOVOGODIŠNJA

Mikici

Stiglo je veče, ono koje pripada svima. I kada na njegovom vrhuncu svi u tren viknu kako je lepo, i razmene želje i ukrase, kada na tren lampion, po jedan za svakog, proguta deo mraka koji čini mozaik te noći i njenih stanovnika, ispod naših nogu izvući će se drhtaj, i mi ćemo se stresti, od pijanstva i sreće. A potamneli lampioni će se pogasiti i pre nego što se probudimo.

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ONE FOR NEW YEAR’S EVE

To Mikica

Evening has arrived, the one that belongs to everyone. And when, at its culmination, everyone shouts at the same time how lovely it all is, and then they exchange wishes and decorations, when, for a moment, a lantern, one for each person, swallows a part of the darkness making up the mosaic of that night and its residents, a tremor will slip out from under our feet, and we’ll shiver, what with drunkenness and happiness. And the darkened lanterns will go out even before we wake up.

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KOCKA

Izgone proroka iz sela. Raskrste sa raskrťćima. Otkinu klatna zvonima. Zauzdaju vetar zidovima. Razapnu krov zbog pljuskova. Zazidaju se od vremena.

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CUBE

They are banishing the prophet from the village. They do away with crossroads. They tear clappers off bells. They bridle the wind by walls. They spread the roof against showers. They wall themselves in from time.

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SKITNJA

„Nemam više snage da sobom prtim svaku stenu koju sretnem.“ M. Komadina

Udarci nisu neprekidni, što im oduzima smisao. Prestanak kazne je bolan, jer dželat oseća žalost. Tu onda nema mesta mržnji, od koje je sve i počelo. Bez njene čvrste ruke, stvara se užasan procep iz kog izlazi jedina prava neman: Bescilj.

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RAMBLING “I’ve no more strength left to lug every rock that I come across.” M. Komadina

The strikes are not continuous, which deprives them of meaning. The cessation of punishment is painful, for the executioner feels sorry. That leaves no room for hatred, which is where it all started. Without its firm hand, a horrible gap appears, from which the only true monster emerges: Aimlessness.

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KOLOS

Moj mozak treba neko da promeša prstima. Te lažno razdvojene hemisfere čine postolje za noge svetskog čuda koje se od pamtiveka urušava u kanal reke života.

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COLOSSUS

Someone should stir my brain with his fingers. Those falsely separated hemispheres constitute a foundation for the legs of the world wonder which, from time immemorial, has been collapsing into the channel of the river of life.

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ŠUM

Prvo se izgubila dubina, ta četvrta, nepriznata dimenzija. Život je šljapkao po plićaku. Onda je pokret postao slika. Zatim se i boja izgubila, pa i sama linija. Ostao je samo ton, neartikulisan, prazan šum.

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NOISE

First the depth got lost, that fourth, unrecognised dimension. Life splashed in the shallows. Then motion became image. Then colour got lost as well, and the line itself. Only the tone remained, inarticulate, an empty noise.

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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.

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BULLET

In each forest only recently turned green, amidst the new smell emanating from the earth, there stands a bullet stopped between two leaves pressed together, waiting to continue its flight in a straight line when something crops up in its path.

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TREN

Iako sam imao stotinu oÄ?nih duplji, iako sam bio jedini svedok smrti grada, iako sam mogao udom da ubijem sina, iako su svuda oko mene bila stabla maslina, zaspao sam. I ako sam.

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MOMENT

Even though I had a hundred eye sockets, even though I was the only witness of the death of the city, even though I could have killed my son with my cock, even though there were olive trees all around me, I fell asleep. And it’s just as well I did.

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DRAGA Po jednoj pesmi Miloša Komadine

Samo ću Bogu reći gde si, draga. U posebnoj molitvi, iza kapaka, u potpunoj tami prisloniću usne na okrugli otvor Njegovog uha: šapnuću mu ko si, draga, i gde si, i šta mi značiš, i zašto mora tako. I On će me čuti, i pojuriće ka tebi, da te stigne posle praska... draga.

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DEAR After a poem by Miloš Komadina

I’ll only tell God where you are, dear. In a special prayer, behind my eyelids, in total darkness, I’ll press my lips against the round hole of His ear: I’ll whisper to Him who you are, dear, and where you are, and what you mean to me, and why it has to be that way. And He will hear me, and will rush towards you, to catch up with you after the shot... dear.

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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.

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PAGAT ULTIMO

This time I played really badly. The bishop fell into a trap, stupidly, en passant, you could say. It only weakened the defence, stretched to the point of bursting, as it was. When, at the last moment, in my death throes, you could say, I famously missed the post, merely grazing it on the wrong side, a whistle sounded. The train arrived. That’s it, what’s done is done, you could say. The confrontation is close, right there, breathing down my neck, so close, as if it had just come to a close. I straightened up. For the last time, you could say.

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GROM „Ne dirajte u idole, jer ostaje pozlata na prstima.“ Stendal. Balzak. Bartelmi.

Bog noćas ponovo pomera stolove po nebu. Struže hrapavi pod. Pršte varnice. Leti iver. Bog i ja imamo specijalan dogovor. Ako isplazim jezik, primam njegovo telo. Ako zaurlam i razjapim čeljust, gutam njegovu krv. Danju ja radim, a on se odmara. Noću ja slušam, a on grmi.

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THUNDERBOLT “Never touch your idols, the gilding will stick to your fingers.� Stendhal. Balzac. Barthelme.

Tonight, God is shifting tables in the sky again. The rough floor creaks. Sparks fly. Slivers fly. God and I have a special arrangement. If I stick out my tongue, I receive His body. If I howl and open my mouth wide, I swallow His blood. I work by day, and He rests. At night, I listen and He thunders.

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IKAR

On koji je rukama nadvisio ptice i prišao bogovima. On koji je jedini gledao u nebo iz oštrog, mrtvog ugla. On koji je na svojoj koži osetio da sunce nije planeta. On koji je dokazao gravitaciju i čisti slobodni pad. On koji je očima proleteo kroz roj zlatnih mušica bola. On koji je umro od srčanog udara o hladnu morsku vodu.

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ICARUS

He, who reached higher than birds with his hands and approached the gods. He, who was the only one looking at the sky at a sharp, dead angle. He, who felt upon his own skin that the sun was not a planet. He, who proved the existence of gravitation and pure free fall. He, who flew with his eyes through a swarm of golden midges of pain. He, who died of a heart strike against cold sea water.

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GRAD

Pleme je naselilo kamenu goru istrebivši koze i orlove. Utabalo je staze, razdelilo pećine, odredilo vlast i slojeve. Sada su sve njegove reči diskretno podvučene zujanjem vreve, a lice Jorika otkriva tek brijač ili aceton. Lice sveca preselilo se u žuti oreol znaka zabrane kretanja u oba smera.

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CITY

The tribe settled on the stony mount, having exterminated goats and eagles. It trod down its paths, divided the caves, determined the authorities and the social strata. Now all its words are discreetly underscored by the noise of the crowd, and Yorick’s face is revealed only by a razor or acetone. The face of a saint has shifted to the yellow halo of a sign prohibiting traffic in both directions.

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PANORAME UMA

I) SLOBODA

Slobode ima. U Kamenom gradu, izgubljenom grozdu u šiblju. U sjajnoj iskri u brdu, nad rekom. U očvrsloj lavini šume, tumoru grada, zarazi prošlosti. Slobode ima. Oko puteva planete, utabanih juče, krštenih krvlju presečene vrpce, kranovi stoje, šuplji graditelji kanala za promet grešaka, i kusura. Slobode ima. U gomili šljunka koju gaze, razmeštajući tela, drobeći kamenje. U Kamenom gradu, u Metalnom gradu, među mrtvim stvarima koje život znače. Slobode ima.

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VISTAS OF THE MIND

I) FREEDOM

There is freedom to be found. In Stone City, a lost bunch of grapes in the shrubs. In a shiny spark on the hill, above the river. In the hardened avalanche of the forest, the tumour of the city, the disease of the past. There is freedom to be found. Around the planet’s roads, trodden down yesterday, baptised with the blood of a cut umbilical cord, cranes stand, hollow builders of canals for transporting errors, and small change. There is freedom to be found. In a heap of pebbles trod upon, arranging their bodies, grinding rocks. In Stone City, in Metal City, amongst dead things that mean life. There is freedom to be found.

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II) ŽIVOT

Život životinje sam je po sebi življi od života biljaka. To je definicija. I sam život je obična definicija, i to negativna, jer nije živo sve što živi. Da smo mi samo živi i zdravi, jer život je, kao i zdravlje, trenutno stanje koje ne sluti na dobro. Život uopšte i nije tu, jer posle njega ovde sve ostaje kao i pre njega, on je „nešto“ što nas vodi preko daljinca ili konca. Život uopšte i nije važan, jer kako bi to i bio kad svako može uvek da živi i svako može da umre bilo kada. On je nešto tamo daleko, nešto imaterijalno, mada će ga ipak jednog dana pronaći u svakom molekulu svačega. On je daleko a mi smo tu i vodimo život zemaljski, život vanzemaljski, život predgrobni i život zagrobni, život u sebi i život potpuno van sebe. Toliko života za nas, toliko života, toliko...

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II) LIFE

The life of an animal, in itself, is more lively than the life of plants. That is a definition. Life itself is a mere definition, and a negative one at that, for not everything that lives is alive. May we stay alive and well, for life, as well as health, is a condition of the moment that does not augur well. Life, anyway, is not here at all, for after it, everything here remains as it was before it, it is “something� that leads us by means of a remote control unit or on a string. Life is not important at all, for how could it be when everyone can always live and everyone can die at any time. It is something over there, far away, something immaterial, even though one day they’ll find it in every molecule of everything. It is far away, and we are here and lead our earthly life, our extraterrestrial life, our pre-sepulchral life and our post-sepulchral life, life in itself and life quite beside itself. So much life for us, so much life, so many...

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III) BOL

Ponekad se u glavi rodi bol, i stoluje sam, suvereno gušeći svaku drugu ćeliju, kao rak. Misli su tada smolaste, ulepljene, mutne kao sagovornik iza flaše na stolu. Da li bol zakori misli, ili one svojim sudarima izazivaju bol? Kao kad kroz ponoć veje sneg i razigrava tamu, primorava je da drhti jednako gusta, kao kad u sumrak šuma postaje tmurni premaz na nebu a udaljena svetla kao iglice u senu smetaju, pregusta praznina glave guši dah. Bol je tada jedina misao. Pianissimo.

IV) SMRT

Ptica brižno gradi kolevku od perja i novina. Tiho, u senovitom uglu, i noću, bez svedoka, ona telom greje svoja sićušna, neoplođena jaja. Mada predodređena da u sebi skriju pokret, ona ipak nisu dovoljno sitna da se u njih ne bi mogla uvući smrt.

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III) PAIN

Sometimes a pain is born in the head, where it resides alone, supremely smothering every other cell, like cancer. Thoughts are like resin then, sticky, vague, like a collocutor behind a bottle on the table. Does pain encrust thoughts, or do they cause pain through their collisions? Just like snow falling at midnight, making darkness dance, forcing it to tremble, dense as it is, the way a forest becomes a murky spread in the sky at dusk, and distant lights become as bothersome as needles in a haystack, the too dense emptiness of the head takes your breath away. Pain is the only thought then. Pianissimo.

IV) DEATH

A bird solicitously builds a nest of feathers and newspapers. Quietly, in a shady corner, at night, without witnesses, it warms its tiny, unfertilised eggs with its body. Although they are predestined to hide motion inside of them, they are not tiny enough that death couldn’t sneak into them, after all.

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V) VREME, PROSTOR

Vreme teče? Vreme se razliva, i to usporavanje vodi smrti. U vodi se lako gubi ravnoteža. Prostor je prozirna, kockasta, idealno pravilna soba, vodeni monolit. Kroz njega se sve vidi, pa izgleda kao da se nekuda može stići. Ta unutrašnja vreva daje joj život. Na kraju svi izdahnemo umorni kraj onog istog zida.

VI) ZEMLJA

Zemlja je majka, zemlja je meka, ali zemlja – guši. U sumrak iznenađuju njene grube senke. Samo ona ima sposobnost da se izmakne pod sigurnim nogama, da odmah potom snažno prigrli telo i zarobi svog sina ostavivši mu slobodnu samo glavu. A tada nebo šalje užasnog mrava kao bog tiranina. 56


V) TIME, SPACE

Time flows? Time spills over, and this slowing down leads to death. In water, you easily lose balance. Space is a see-through, cube-like, ideally regular-shaped room, a water monolith. You can see everything through it, and it seems that you can actually get somewhere. This internal turmoil gives it life. In the end we breathe our last, tired, by that same wall.

VI) EARTH

Earth is a mother, earth is soft, but earth – suffocates. At dusk, its rough shadows take you by surprise. Only it has the ability to slip away under steady feet, and then to forcefully embrace the body immediately afterwards and capture its son, leaving only his head free. And then the sky sends a horrible ant the way a god sends a tyrant. 57


VII) BUDUĆNOST

Šta ćeš postati, pitaju. Ne grubi, neotesani, već onaj sitni, fini, ravnomerni, najvredniji pesak koji zna da odmeri ritam kosmosa bez greške – završićeš u staklenoj posudi koju će neka ruka kad-tad zaboraviti da okrene. Šta ćeš postati?

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VII) THE FUTURE

What will you become, they ask. Not that rough, unrefined sand, but that fine-grained, evenly spread, most valuable sand, which can measure the rhythm of the cosmos unfailingly – you’ll end up in a glass vessel that some hand will forget to turn over sooner or later. What will you become?

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Iz zbirke BLAGOSLOVENI GUBITNICI

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.

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From the collection BLESSED LOSERS

TO DEJAN MATIĆ

Friend I tell you I only seek peace and cannot find it. I approach the monastery following you (I remember) but my motives are dark: I want peace. And I rage and the shore keeps receding. How would it be to believe in something? In anything? Indeed rare are those who do not fall behind and I see you there friend alone.

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VUKU I NAĐI

U decembru poranili ste napolje U januaru obećavali smo vam razbijanje plastičnog zvona U februaru skakali smo na vaš ubrzan dah U martu oćelavili ste skupljajući usnice za piškenje U aprilu počeli smo da vas razlikujemo U maju zamenili ste mesta i navike U junu naravi U julu počeli smo da vam obećavamo batine U avgustu počeli ste da se nakašljavate U septembru da pomno proučavate svoje male šake U oktobru dobili ste prvi mali mladež prvi zub U novembru počeli ste da se radujete jedno drugom U decembru požurili ste da odrastete 62


TO VUK AND NAÄ?A

In December you ventured out early In January we promised to you the breaking of the plastic bell In February we jumped when your breathing quickened In March you went bald pursing your tiny lips while peeing In April we started distinguishing between you In May you exchanged places and habits In June temperaments In July we started promising to spank you In August you started clearing your throats In September you started meticulously studying your small hands In October you got your first little mole your first tooth In November you started rejoicing at each other In December you hastened to grow up 63


BLAGOSLOVENI GUBITNICI

Noge slonova Dalija zapletene u debla bukava. Uspavani dinosaurusi lome plavi horizont. Napušten toranj sišao na vrh kamenoloma. Rastrzani ljudi u daljini krive bledo lice žene. Krune se kontinenti na kori lišajive šljive. Ciknuto vino nektar odbeglih bogova. Vršti belutak pod trbuhom pretovarenog čamca. Niski vetar svira o grlić flaše u ruci. Žig zveri gospodara svud po njenom telu. Trava se ruga katastrofi život smrti.

64


BLESSED LOSERS

The legs of Dali’s elephants tangled up in the trunks of beech-trees. Slumbering dinosaurs smashing the blue horizon. The abandoned tower descended to the top of the quarry. The torn-apart people in the distance distort the pale face of a woman. Continents crumble on the bark of a plum-tree covered with lichen. Rancid wine the nectar of runaway gods. White pebbles screech under the belly of an overburdened boat. The low wind plays against the neck of the bottle held in hand. The mark of the master beast all over her body. The grass mocks the catastrophe life mocks death.

65


8 MINUTA

Niko ne opazi početak odbrojavanja zatamnjenje čak ni zahlađenje Niko se ne oprašta pozdravlja niko ne plače ne pakuje se divnog li rastanka niko ne krade ne siluje ne ožderava se ne pije kakva idila harmonija ko preživi pričaće

66


8 MINUTES

No one notices the beginning of the countdown the darkening not even that it is getting colder No one is saying good-bye bidding farewell no one is crying or packing what a wonderful parting no one is stealing or raping no one is devouring food or guzzling drink what idyll harmony whoever survives will tell us all about it

67


DUĹ A

Skriven iza saksije vidim ga celog: glava pala na ĹĄaku miruje blago stegnute usne bez disanja Samo mu oÄ?i ne vidim Skrivene su listom koji moram da pomaknem a ne smem

68


THE SOUL

Hidden behind a flower-pot I see him whole: his head rests having fallen onto his hand his lips slightly tightened without breathing Only his eyes I can’t see They’re hidden by a leaf which I’d have to remove and don’t dare to

69


BEOGRAD

Miris lipa drhtaj vode skakut vrapca šepaj goluba pisak brodova vozova kamiona Kužno pijačno miro Pijanstvo Ponoć tramvajska Neopevana

70


BELGRADE

The smell of linden-trees a tremor of water the scuttling of sparrow the limping of pigeons the whistling of ships trains trucks The diseased market-place myrrh Drunkenness Midnight of the streetcar variety Unsung

71


DA LI JE MOGUĆE PROLEĆE?

I dalje cvetaju bombe lista tutanj čak i gugutke miris Moguće je proleće proleće Milana Gavrana sterilno proleće pod belim svetlom pred savršenim pločicama proleće u belom u crnini

72


IS SPRING POSSIBLE?

Bombs still blossom the rumble leafs even doves smell Spring is possible the spring of Milan the Raven a sterile spring under white lights in front of perfect tiles a spring in white in mourning

73


ELEMENTI

Na senovitoj vodi bezdušni sat pluta U besenoj zemlji mrtvac bez daha bez lika U sjajnoj vatri grče se seni u ludilu Na seni neba srp jeze srp aveti srp smrti Voda kruži od vazduha ka zemlji goneći vatru

74


ELEMENTS

On shady waters a cruel clock floats In a shadeless land a corpse without breath without a face In a blazing fire shades writhe in madness Against the shadow of the sky a sickle of horror a sickle of an apparition a sickle of death Water circles from the air to the ground chasing fire

75


AVETI

Iz neonske noći izranjaju duhovi Prizvali ste nas Blede aveti sa okom ogledalom na glavi deset bodlji za reverom sisaljkom na kraju sluťalica belim mantilom u klompama Prizvali ste nas sad smo tu zauvek

76


APPARITIONS

From a neon night spirits arise You have summoned us Pale apparitions with a mirror eye on their head ten thorns in their lapel a sucker at the end of earphones in white coats in clogs You have summoned us now we’re here forever

77


DA LI SI OK?

Uvek nameštaš krevet istim redom na isti način. Uvek obuvaš prvo levu pa desnu čarapu cipelu. Uvek pereš zube istim pokretom istom rukom. Uvek kupuješ istu vrstu hleba isti jogurt. Uvek piješ istu kafu spremljenu na isti način. Uvek sediš u istom kafiću na istoj stolici uza zid. Uvek citiraš istog pisca iste poslovice fraze. Uvek proveravaš simetriju slika zatvaraš ormar fioke. Uvek ideš istim putem istim prečicama tamo i nazad. Rodiš se živiš umreš uvek tim redom. Da li si OK? Opsesivno-kompulzivan?

78


ARE YOU OK?

You always make the bed in the same order in the same way. You always put on your left sock and shoe then your right sock and shoe. You always wash your teeth with the same movements using the same hand. You always buy the same kind of bread the same kind of yoghurt. You always drink the same coffee made in the same way. You always sit in the same cafĂŠ on the same chair next to the wall. You always quote the same writer the same proverbs phrases. You always check the symmetry of pictures close the cupboard drawers. You always walk along the same path take the same shortcuts on the way there and back. You get born live die always in that order. Are you OK? Obsessive-kompulsive?

79


EPITAF

Ne dolazite mi na grob! Ne volim da mi neko stoji nad glavom.

80


EPITAPH

Do not come to my grave! I don’t like it when someone stands over my head.

81


Iz zbirke LIRIKA I TAKO... PLANETA ROBOTA

SLEP pravljen da radi u mraku zbog gužve izbačen na svetlo ojačana stopala ruka tri puta produžena sa velikim prstom na kraju da opipava

GLUV pravljen sa zidom oko sebe da radi u miru zbog gužve izbačen među ostale upućen na njih opipava zid uči morzeovu azbuku radi komunikacije

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From the collection LYRICAL POETRY AND STUFF... A PLANET OF ROBOTS

BLIND made to work in the dark thrown out into the light on account of the crowd strengthened soles arm lengthened three times ending with a big finger for feeling things

DEAF made with a wall surrounding him to work in peace on account of the crowd thrown out amongst the others made to rely on them he feels the wall learns the Morse code for the purpose of communication

83


TRKAČ pravljen sa točkovima umesto nogu da bude brži zbog gužve ostavljen bez motora da gura sam sebe u krug

GURAČ pravljen da gura trkača umesto motora ruke mu ušrafljene u njegova leđa zbog gužve gura ga i tegli van kruga

MISLILAC pravljen da misli ima glavu nema noge 84


RUNNER made with wheels in place of legs to be faster on account of the crowd left without a motor to push himself running in a circle

PUSHER made to push a runner instead of a motor his arms screwed into his back on account of the crowd he pushes and pulls him outside the circle

THINKER made to think has a head no legs 85


ni ruke zbog gužve ništa ne može sam osim da misli

PROROK pravljen da nazre budućnost sa svim udovima beskorisnim sa glavom iskrivljenom u transu sa zjapećim balavim ustima sa promuklim glasnim žicama zbog gužve luta neshvaćen

RATNIK pravljen da se potroši zbog gužve da izgubi nogu ili pola ruke lako mu poture drugu tuđu ili novu da tada nastavi napred do kraja 86


or arms on account of the crowd can do nothing by himself except think

PROPHET made to discern the future with all his limbs useless with a head twisted in a trance with a gaping drooling mouth with hoarse vocal chords on account of the crowd he wanders around misunderstood

WARRIOR made to spend himself on account of the crowd to lose his leg or half an arm they easily slip him another one somebody else’s or brand new to carry on then until the end 87


DALEK pravljen da bude blizu zbog gužve pogrešno spojene žice povremeno i jeste blizu inače negde duboko u sebi daleko van sebe peva igra smeje se plače urla vrišti

OSTALI i milijarde onih koji ih prave zbog gužve

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DISTANT made to be close by on account of the crowd with wrongly connected wires occasionally he is close by otherwise somewhere deep within himself far away beside himself he sings dances laughs cries howls screams

THE OTHERS and billions of those who make them on account of the crowd

89


ZATVORENIK

Znao sam da dolaze; dočekao sam ih u tišini, uz vino i vatru. Provalili su, mada je bilo otključano, ščepali me, mada se nisam branio, vezali me, mada me nisu ni pogledali. Odveli su me u vlagu. Bacili u okove. Sprave za mučenje. Sprave za mučanje. Neću im reći.

90


PRISONER

I knew they were coming; I awaited them in silence, with wine and a fire. They broke in, even though the door was unlocked, grabbed me, even though I did not defend myself, tied me up, although they did not even look at me. They took me to a damp place. Chained me. Instruments of torture. Instruments of silence. I won’t tell them.

91


JA SAM OSTRVO

Izlazim pred sudiju Vičem optuženom: Jesi li kriv?! Odgovaram: Kriv sam! Izričem presudu/Vičem osuđenom/Udaram čekićem: Smrt! Kleknem pred dželata Zamahujem sekirom Odrubljujem glavu

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I AM AN ISLAND

I step in front of the judge I shout to the defendant: Are you guilty?! I answer: I’m guilty! I pronounce the verdict/Shout to the convicted defendant/Bang the gavel: Death! I kneel before the executioner Swing the axe Behead the convicted man

93


OSVAJAČ

Na povratku u kraljevstvo strpaše me u kontumac. (Bojahu se da ću im opet oteti žene, učiniti njih nepotrebnim.) Nepravedni zatvor nije mi pomogao. Pogrešiše. Pustiše me. Iskusnom, nije mi trebalo mnogo. Uzeh šta mi pripada po iskonskom pravu. Skiptrom svojim pokorih podanice. Sve, osim časne sestre, duhovnice, vampirice u haljini. Prestupih. Uleteh u košnicu među njenim nogama. Duša se vinu ka nebu, blistavom ateisti.

94


CONQUEROR

Upon my return to the kingdom they put me in jail. (They feared that I would snatch their women away again, make them useless.) The unjust imprisonment did not help me. They made a mistake. They let me out. Experienced as I was, I didn’t need much. I took what belonged to me according to ancient law. With my sceptre, I subdued my female subjects. All of them except for a nun, an abbess, a vampire in a robe. I transgressed. I rushed into the bee-hive between her legs. My soul soared to the heavens above, to the shining atheist.

95


SAN

Deda kog sam nosio u autobusu u kom sam se vozio moli me za pomoć koju sam pružio vozač kog sam poznavao pokušava da odvuče dedu kom sam pomogao deda se ljuti i kidiše pa prst kojim me je držao grizem mekan je kao vlažna piškota koju sam pojeo

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DREAM

An old man whom I carried in a bus I was riding in asked me for help which I provided the driver whom I knew tried to drag the old man away whom I’d helped the old man was angry and lunged so I bit the finger he held on to me with it was as soft as the wet sponge-finger I’d eaten

97


PROMAŠAJI

Ptica je promašila prozorsko okno i uletela promašila drugo i izletela dva čista promašaja i odletela

98


MISSES

A bird missed the window-pane and flew in missed another one and flew out two clear misses and it flew away

99


PROLEĆE LETO JESEN ZIMA

Olistala su koplja pobodena u mlado stablo breze Tuje na vetru ko korali u moru lelujaju Gole kroĹĄnje ko uslikane munje Cakli se led na snegu po kome hodam kao div

100


SPRING SUMMER AUTUMN WINTER

Spears have sprouted leaves spears stuck into a young birch-tree Thujas in the wind sway like corals in the sea Naked tree crowns resemble photographed lightning The ice glistens on the snow that I walk upon like a giant

101


OLUJA

Prva grmljavina daleka i potmula Svaka naredna bliža Sevaju nebeski blicevi gromoglasan aplauz ... a padale su svu noć neke teške bombe nad Beogradom

102


STORM

The first sound of thunder distant and muffled Each one that follows is nearer Heavenly flashlights are flashing a thunderous sound of applause ... and all night long heavy bombs kept falling on Belgrade

103


TALAS

Dok se žena zaleće u policijski auto i aktivira eksploziv ranjavajući dva policajca i slučajne prolaznike, iza ugla staklo na prozoru sprata podrhtava, malo dalje uz ulicu ljudi zastaju i okreću se za praskom, a iza sledećeg ugla mladi mirno sede u kafiću, piju i smeju se, slušaju udare ritam mašine.

104


WAVE

While a woman rushes at the police car and activates the explosive, wounding two policemen and accidental passers-by, behind the corner an upstairs window-pane rattles, a little bit further down the street people pause and turn around looking in the direction of the blast, and behind the next corner young people sit calmly in a cafĂŠ, drinking and laughing, listening to the beats of the rhythm machine.

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BOLNICA

Beli. Aveti, glasni, glavni, vlast. Crni. Uljezi, nemarni, bahati, slobodni. Plavi. Domaći, tihi, providni, uplaťeni.

106


HOSPITAL

The white. Apparitions, loud, top-level, the powers-that-be. The black. Intruders, careless, arrogant, freewheeling. The blue. Domestic, quiet, transparent, scared.

107


PRITISNI STOP

U plićaku oštra ivica šlaufa britko seče slanu kap juri ka bradavici Pritisni stop uvidi, premotaj, spreči ranu, rak, smrt. Mršave glave jedna po jedna nevoljno prelaze dva stepenika ulaze u radionicu Pritisni stop uvidi, premotaj, spreči zatvaranje, gas, smrt. Crvenilo puni usne crnilo izvlači trepavice uteže kožu, tanji struk, pumpa grudi. Pritisni stop uvidi, premotaj, spreči prekoračenje, silovanje, smrt.

108


PRESS STOP

In shallow waters, the sharp edge of the swim tube sharply cuts a salty drop rushing towards the nipple Press stop, see, rewind, prevent the wound, cancer, death. Thin heads one by one unwillingly climb the two steps enter the workshop Press stop, see, rewind, prevent incarceration, gas, death. Redness fills the lips blackness stretches the eyelashes tightens the skin, slims the waist, pumps the breasts. Press stop, see, rewind, prevent transgression, rape, death.

109


Grlić u ustima, brzina u ruci. Pakao u glavi, igla u ruci. Zavist u oku, nož u ruci. Pritisni stop uvidi, premotaj, spreči, smrt, smrt, smrt.

110


Bottleneck in the mouth, speed in hand. Hell in the head, needle in the arm. Envy in the eye, knife in hand. Press stop, see, rewind, prevent death, death, death.

111


MAGDI

Ti si verovala u njega on je verovao u Njega a oni? Ĺ est patuljaka u obdaniĹĄtu pod zemljom igraju klisa na tepihu bez trave Ne mogu da odbiju poslednje kockice Ä?okolade

112


TO MAGDA

You believed in him he believed in Him and what about them? Six dwarves in an underground kindergarten play cricket on a carpet without grass They cannot refuse the last chocolate squares

113


KRAJ

Čovek kleči na parkingu. Sedi na petama, kao da je pao. Lice u dlanovima. Duva jak vetar. Žena kleči u sobi. Sedi na petama, kao da je pala. Lice u dlanovima. Samo sat kuca. Dete kleči na poljani. Sedi na petama, kao da je palo. Lice u dlanovima. Na tlu slomljen štap. Svanulo je iznad Crkve Svetog Mraka.

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THE END

A man kneels in the parking lot. He sits on his heels, as if he had fallen down. His face is in his hands. A strong wind is blowing. A woman kneels in a room. She sits on her heels, as if she had fallen down. Her face is in her hands. Only the clock is ticking. A child kneels in the field. He sits on his heels, as if he had fallen down. His face is in his hands. On the ground there is a broken stick. It has dawned above St Dark’s Church.

115


SAŠI

Kad si se pojavio posle toliko godina bio si neko drugi: zreo, zbog godina borbe, mršav, zbog bolesti, cinik, zbog nemoći. Bio si vreća puna bolova koju su otvarali da bi je zatvorili, slegnuli ramenima, slagali. Digli ruke. Pokušao si sve, uzeo i ono što si znao da ćeš iza ugla odmah baciti. Spakovao se, pogledao me, zagrlio me, i rekao: valjda ćemo se videti uskoro. Hoćemo.

116


TO SAŠA

When you appeared after so many years you were someone else: mature, due to years of struggling, skinny, due to the illness, cynical, due to powerlessness. You were a bag full of pain, opened in order to be closed, followed by a shrug, lies. They gave up. You tried everything, even took what you knew you’d throw away round the corner. You packed, looked at me, hugged me, and said: guess, we’ll see each other soon. We will.

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VOZOVI, GRADOVI, SUĐAJE (beleške s putovanja)

VOZ, SOLUN Susret s vozom kao s detinjstvom. Nelagodnost, čak strah... a letenja se ne bojim. Ispraćaju me prijatelj, grad i avalski toranj u plamenu, kroz prljav prozor. Prate me one bez kojih me nema: Smrtonosna, Ružna, Dosadna. Kola 466, kabina 3, ležaj 21. Osim zvuka, kao da prvi put putujem vozom. Kaljava posteljina, WC strave i užasa. Magla. Strah od Smrtonosne. Redom Preševo, Tabanovci, Veles, Gradsko, Demir Kapija, Đevđelija, Eidomeni, Polikastro. Putovanje vozom je tužno, sve stanice izgledaju napušteno. Sendvič i najgora kafa u životu. Tuneli. Reke. Mostovi. Stene. Masline. Granice. Crna reka, belo sunce. Satovi odjednom žure 60 minuta. Voz juri, vrata drhte, kaput se njiše. Dosadna mi golica tabane dok spavam u bunilu.

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TRAINS, CITIES, MOIRAE

(notes made during the course of a journey)

TRAIN, THESSALONIKI Meeting the train, reminiscent of meeting my childhood. Anxiety, fear even... and I’m not afraid of flying. A friend, the city and the tower of Mt Avala in flames are seeing me off, seen through the dirty window. Those without whom I don’t exist follow me: the Deadly One, the Ugly One, the Boring One. Car 466, compartment 3, bed 21. Except for the sound, this feels like my very first train journey. Dirty bed sheets, the toilet sheer horror. Fog. Fear of the Deadly One. In succession, we pass through Preševo, Tabanovci, Veles, Gradsko, Demir Kapija, Đevđelija, Eidomeni, Polikastro. A train journey is a sad affair, all the stations look forlorn. A sandwich and the worst coffee I’ve had in my life. Tunnels. Rivers. Bridges. Rocks. Olive trees. Borderlines. Black river, white sun. All of a sudden, watches run 60 minutes ahead. The train speeds on, the doors shudder, my jacket swings. The Boring One tickles my soles while I sleep feverishly.

119


Solun. Vazduh miriše na Grčku. Detinjstvo. Pogled iz sobe na druge poglede iz sobe. Prvi odmor, samoća, tišina. Gledam Ružnu. Televizor se nagnuo s ormara i gleda mene; ignorišem ga. Psi lutalice ogromni, poželiš da si bio jedan od njih u prethodnom životu. Svakog dana, svake večeri, svake noći, prinosim žrtve Suđajama. Napokon, poseta precima. Razgovor o smrti; na svom terenu sam. Golubovi na simsu. Mir?

VOZ, ISTANBUL Skučene kabine, jedna na drugoj; sigurno spavam iznad nekoga. Voz kao jahanje, njihanje, topot. Voz kao kolevka koju ljulja nervozna majka. Granice. Kiša. Oranice. Odroni. Potoci. Bujice. Stanica iz starih filmova; majka se napokon umirila, dete je zaspalo. Izlazim. Njih tri u uglu oka. Grad mačaka i žutih taksija. Mala soba, prozor u zid. Poj sa minareta; Aja Sofija i Plava džamija se dozivaju.

120


Thessaloniki. The air smells of Greece. Childhood. A look from the room at other looks from the room. Taking a rest for the first time, solitude, silence. I watch the Ugly One. The television set is leaning from the wardrobe, looking at me; I ignore it. Giant stray dogs, make you wish you were one in your previous life. Every day, every evening, every night, I offer sacrifices to Moirae. Finally, a visit to my ancestors. Talking about death; I’m on familiar ground. Doves on the window sill. Peace? TRAIN, ISTANBUL Cramped compartments, one upon another; I’m certainly sleeping above someone. The train feels like riding, swinging, clattering. The train feels like a cradle rocked by a nervous mother. Borderlines. Rain. Arable land. Landslides. Streams. Flooding waters. A station right out of old movies; the mother is finally quiet, the child is asleep. I get off. The three of them in the corner of my eye. A city of cats and yellow cabs. A small room, the window looking out on a wall. Sounds of singing wafting from a minaret; Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque calling out to each other. 121


Smrtonosna lebdi nada mnom gde god da krenem. Zamak, puno zvanica, i žena zbog koje mi se plače, podseća me na davnu majku. Trajekt prate galebovi, vetar ih zaustavlja u letu. Azija izašla na ulice, pločnike, mirisna, šarena. Na jednom doku žive crne, na suprotnom bele ptice. Sišli smo pod zemlju, nad vodom; ni ovde nisam sam. Bosfor pod mostovima; pored mene ćelavi vukodlak. Jutro, sunce, duga, još jedna, galeb pod prozorom, njegovi u dugačkom jatu prate ribarski brod. Kraj mora, po kiši, suncu, vetru. I smrt. Duga nije donela sreću, samo tužne ispovesti, suze. I smrt. Mačke kukaju celu noć. Ptičica pobegla od njih u trpezariju. Nema više vozova, radujem se krilima. Čekam da odletim. Ružna pokušava da se sakrije. Smrtonosna gubi zube. Dosadna je pored mene na praznom sedištu. Zatim mi seda u krilo.

122


The Deadly One floats above me wherever I go. A castle, lots of invited guests, and a woman that makes me want to cry, she reminds me of my mother of long ago. Gulls follow the ferry, their flight being stopped by the wind. Asia has come out onto its streets, its pavements, fragrant, multicoloured. On one dock there live black birds, across from it white ones. We got down under the ground, above water; I’m not alone here either. Bosporus under the bridges; a bald werewolf beside me. Morning, sun, rainbow, yet another one, a gull under the window, its cohorts follow a fishing boat in a long drawn out flock. By the sea, in the rain, sunshine, wind. And death. The rainbow did not bring happiness, only sad confessions, tears. And death. Cats caterwaul all night. A little bird fled to the dining-room before them. No more trains, I look forward to wings. Am waiting to fly away. The Ugly One tries to hide. The Deadly One loses her teeth. The Boring One is next to me in the empty seat. Then she sits in my lap.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Milan Dobričić (1977, Belgrade). Books of poems: Pritisak [Pressure], CSM, 2002. Dovijanje [Racking One’s Brains], Treći Trg, 2006. Blagosloveni gubitnici [Blessed Losers], Društvo Istočnik, 2009. Lirika i tako...[Lyrical Poetry and Stuff…], Treći Trg, 2013. Books of prose: Dnevnik 2000 [Diary 2000], (co-author), CSM, 2001. Ceđ [Lye], Treći Trg, 2010. Books translated from the English language: Owen Martell: The Other Man, Treći Trg, 2011. Pascale Petit: The Zoo Father, Treći Trg, 2012. Gabriel Rosenstock: Uttering Her Name (together with Gorjana Rajić), Treći Trg, 2013.

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ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

Novica Petrović, PhD, born in Zemun (Serbia) on 25.07.1952. Finished grammar school in 1971 in Belgrade. Graduated from the English Department of the Faculty of Philology of Belgrade University in 1975. Defended his MA thesis entitled The Entropy Motif in the Work of Thomas Pynchon and J. G. Ballard in July 2001, and obtained his PhD degree in July 2005, having defended the thesis Man and the Universe in the Work of Arthur C. Clarke and Stanislaw Lem, both at the Faculty of Philology of Belgrade University. Worked as an English teacher at the Kolarac Foundation School for Foreign Languages in Belgrade from 1981 to 1994. Worked as a Lecturer in Contemporary English Language at the English Department of the Faculty of Philology of Belgrade University from 1994 to 2006, when he was promoted to the post of Senior Lecturer in British/American Cultural Studies. Currently teaches An Introduction to American Studies, American Cultural Studies and An Introduction to a Study of British and American Utopian Literature at the Faculty of Philology in Belgrade. Has published translations, literary criticism and essays on the theory and practice of translation, and is a regular contributor to local literary periodicals and Radio Belgrade’s cultural programmes.

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Contents

Pressure Punishment 5 The Death of Socrates 7 The Death of Archimedes 9 The Death of Michelangelo 11 The Death of Don Quixote 13 The Death of Vincent 15 Highway 17 The World 19 Puppet 23 Racking One’s Brains One for New Year’s Eve Cube 29 Rambling 31 Colossus 33 Noise 35 Bullet 37 Moment 39 Dear 41 Pagat Ultimo 43 Icarus 47 City 49

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27


Vistas of the Mind 51 I) Freedom 51 II) Life 53 III) Pain 55 IV) Death 55 V) Time, Space 57 VI) Earth 57 VII) The Future 59 Blessed Losers To Dejan Matić 61 To Vuk and Nađa 63 Blessed Losers 65 8 Minutes 67 The Soul 69 Belgrade 71 Is Spring Possible? 73 Elements 75 Apparitions 77 Are You OK? 79 Epitaph 81

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Lyrical Poetry and Stuff... A Planet of Robots 83 Blind 83 Deaf 83 Runner 85 Pusher 85 Thinker 85 Prophet 87 Warrior 87 Distant 89 The Others 89 Prisoner 91 I Am an Island 93 Conqueror 95 Dream 97 Misses 99 Spring Summer Autumn Winter Storm 103 Wave 105 Hospital 107 Press Stop 109 To Magda 113 The End 115 To Saša 117 Trains, Cities, Moirae 119 About the Author 125 About the Translator 127 131

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Milan Dobričić Blessed Losers Editor Dejan Matić Translator Novica Petrović Cover design Dragana Nikolić Publisher Treći Trg Francuska 7 Beograd www.trecitrg.org.rs trgnise@gmail.com +381691979007 Printed by Čigoja štampa Studentski trg 13 Beograd 200 copies Beograd 2013


CIP - Каталогизација у публикацији Народна библиотека Србије, Београд 821.163.41-1 ДОБРИЧИЋ, Милан, 1977Blessed Losers : (selected poems) / Milan Dobričić ; translated by Novica Petrović. Beograd : Treći Trg, 2013 (Beograd : Čigoja štampa). - 136 str. ; 21 cm Uporedo srp. tekst i engl. prevod. - Tiraž 200. - About the Author: str. 125. - About the Translator: str. 127. ISBN 978-86-86337-91-7 COBISS.SR-ID 200710924


Milan Dobricic, Blessed Losers  

Poetry Bilingual Edition Publisher: Treći Trg Beograd 2013.

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