Translate

Sunday, December 17, 2017

Vladislav Petkovic Dis Tamnica Dungeon

Vladislav Petković Dis

TAMNICA

Poetry in Motion, digital art by Boris Gregoric


To je onaj život gde sam pao i ja
s nevinih daljina, sa očima zvezda
i sa suzom mojom što nesvesno sija
i žali, ko ptica oborena gnezda.
To je onaj život gde sam pao i ja


Sa nimalo znanja i bez moje volje,
nepoznat govoru i nevolji ružnoj
i ja plakah tada. Ne beše mi bolje.
I ostadoh tako u kolevci tužnoj
sa nimalo znanja i bez moje volje.


I ne znadoh da mi krv struji i teče,
i da nosim oblik što se mirno menja;
i da nosim oblik, san lepote, veče
i tišinu blagu ko dah otkrovenja.
I ne znadoh da mi krv struji i teče,


I da beže zvezde iz mojih očiju,
da se stvara nebo i svod ovaj sada
i prostor, trajanje za red stvari sviju,
i da moja glava rađa sav svet jada,
i da beže zvezde iz mojih očiju,



Al' begaju zvezde; ostavljaju boje
mesta i daljine i vezuju jave;
i sad tako žive kao biće moje,
nevino vezane za san moje glave.
Al' begaju zvezde; ostavljaju boje.


Pri beganju zvezda zemlja je ostala
za hod mojih nogu i za život reči;
i tako je snaga u meni postala
snaga koja boli, snaga koja leči.
Pri beganju zvezda zemlja je ostala.


I tu zemlju danas poznao sam i ja
sa nevinim srcem, al' bez mojih zvezda.
I sa suzom mojom, što mi i sad sija
i žali k'o tica oborena gnezda.
I tu zemlju danas poznao sam i ja.


Kao stara tajna ja počeh da živim.
zakovan na zemlju što životu služi,
da okrećem oči daljinama sivim,
dok mi venac snova moju glavu kruži.
Kao stara tajna ja počeh da živim.

Da osećam sebe u pogledu trava.
I noći, i voda i da slušam biće
i duh moj u svemu kako moćno spava.
ko jedina pesma, jedino otkriće;
Da osećam sebe u pogledu trava


I očiju, što ih vidi moja snaga,
očiju što zovu kao glas tišina,
kao govor šuma, kao divna draga
izgubljenih snova, zaspalih visina,
I očiju, što ih vidi moja snaga.




DUNGEON



That is the life into which I also fell
from distances innocent, starry-eyed
with a tear of mine that glistens unknowning
and mourns, like a bird from the knocked-off nest.
That is the life into which I also fell


With no knowledge and against my will,
unknown to speech and ugly misfortune
I also wept then. Nor have I felt better.
And thus I remained in a sad cradle
without any knowledge, against my will.


And I have not known that my blood flows and runs,
and that semblance I bear that calmly changes;
and that the semblance I bear, the dream of beauty, an eve
and silence tender like the breath of revelation.
And I have not known that my blood flows and runs,

And that stars are fleeing my eyes,
that the sky is being made, this here firmament
and the space, the lasting for the order of all things,
and that my head gives birth to the world of woe,
and stars are fleeing my eyes,

Thus flee the stars; leaving the colors
places and distances and connected realities;
and thus now they live like my being,
innocenty tied to the dream of my head.
Thus flee the stars; leaving the colors.

With the flight of the stars the earth remained
for the ambulance of my feet and the existence of words;
thus then the power within me became
the power that aches, the power that heals.
With the flight of the stars the earth remained.


And this earth today I've known myself
with innocent heart, yet without my stars.
And with a tear of mine, that even now glistens
and mourns like a bird from the knocked-off nest.
And this earth today I've known myself.


Like an ancient secret I've began to live.
riveted to the ground that serves the living,
to turn my eyes to gray distances,
whilst the wreath of dreams my head surrounds.
Like an ancient secret I've began to live.

To feel myself in the graze of the grass.
And nights, and waters, and to hark to the being
the spirit of mine that mightily sleeps in everything.
like a singular poem, a singular discovery;
To feel myself in the graze of the grass

And the eyes that my power sees
the eyes that cry out to the voice of the hushed things,
like the forest's speech, like a wondrous lover
of dreams lost, of heights aslept,
And the eyes that my power sees.





Translated from the Serbo-Croatian
by Boris Gregoric

*


Vladislav Petković nicknamed Dis was a brilliant Serbian modernist poet who died in 1917 at the age of 37 on a cargo boat sunk by German U-boat. 

His form of a beautifully simplified sonnet, with recurring themes of world weariness and foreboding, is still highly regarded in the South Slavic literary canon. Its ababa rhyming pattern cannot be aptly translated, however the diction and the voice of this unique poète maudit hopefully resonate with the reader.



No comments: