ART–POETRY


https://doi.org/10.5005/jp-journals-11005-0008
Science, Art and Religion
Volume 1 | Issue 1 | Year 2022

Enes Kišević: Poems in Croatian and Translated in English


Enes Kišević

Member of Croatian Writers’ Association, Zagreb, Croatia

Corresponding Author: Enes Kišević, Member of Croatian Writers’ Association, Zagreb, Croatia, e-mail: asja.kisevic@vet-usluge.hr

How to cite this article: Kišević E. Enes Kišević: Poems in Croatian and Translated in English. Sci Arts Relig 2022;1(1):127-132.

Source of support: Nil

Conflict of interest: None

Keywords: Enes Kišević, Poetry, Poems

Pripadnost
Sunce,
čije si ti ime?
Kojoj galaksiji,
kojoj naciji,
kojem narodu pripadaš?
Pa ne možeš ti tako
po svijetu hodati:
danas na istoku,
sutra na zapadu.
Ti moraš da se odlučiš
čije si?
Da se izjasniš
konačno.
Mi to moramo znati:
u slučaju tvoje smrti
gdje ćemo te pokopati?
U kojoj zemlji?
U kojem kraju?
U kojoj četvrti?
Belonging
Sun, whose name is yours?
Which Galaxy,
Which Nation,
Which People do you belong to?
Well, you cannot go on
Rambling like this around the world:
Today in the East,
And tomorrow the West!
You have to make up your mind.
To declare yourself, finally:
Whose are you?
We have to know it -
In case of your death,
Where are we to bury you?
In which country?
In which district?
In which neighborhood?
što ne mogu mrziti?
Ne znam ni sam.
Ili što se sasvim prirodno
u tom puku
ponašam kao nepostojeće A.
And why on my face is there this shame?
Why can I not hate -
Who am I to blame?
Or why am I so proud
In this inarticulate crowd
To behave like
The silent A.
*Mrznja means hatred in Croatian
Žene u crnom
Dok svjetskom paradnom pistom
prolaze šarene vojske, diplomati i manekenke
(odjeveni po posljednjem kriku mode),
i dok zrakom struji miris krvi i parfema,
na vama je još uvijek Antigonina crnina,
crnina Majke Marije, crnina Anne Frank,
crnina jasenovačkih majki, blajburških majki,
srebreničkih majki...
Vidim vas
kako razgovarate sa silovanim ženama u Trnopolju,
kako kozaračkoj ratnoj siročadi pružate ruke,
stojite pognutih glava pred logorašima iz Omarske.
Vaša crnina, nažalost, svakim danom
još crnja postaje.
A tako bih vas, još za života,
u slavljeničkim haljinama volio vidjeti.
Međutim,
sila i oholost su danas
u sjaju,
a istina je u crnini.
No uskoro će mladi ljudi
govoriti o vremenu
kada na crnoj zemlji
vaša crnina
ljepša bješe od cvijeća.
Women in Black
As colorful armies, diplomats and models
Walk the red carpet of the World
(Dressed following the latest fashion),
And the smell of blood and perfume
Lingers in the air,
You are still wrapped in Antigone’s black,
In the Virgin Mary’s black, Anne Frank’s black,
The black worn by the mothers of the camp of Jasenovac, the mothers of Bleiburg,
The mothers of Srebrenica…
I can see you
Talking to the raped women of Trnopolje,
Reaching out to the war orphans of Kozara,
Bowing your heads before the detainees of Omarska…
Alas, the black you’re wearing,
Is getting more black by the day.
Whereas I so long to see you
Wearing festive clothes in my lifetime.
Today, however,
Might and Arrogance
Shine brightly,
While Truth is wrapped in black.
But soon, young people
Will be talking about the time
When your blackness
On this black land
Was more beautiful than flowers.
Translator’s note: Women in Black is an anti-war NGO in Serbia which was very active during the wars in the ‘90s and is still active today.
Nositi ih na svojim leđima
bez obzira
da li ti ljudi preko mosta
brašno ili tenkove prevoze.
Svaki je most u svojoj biti
bezazlen.
On čak ne sumnja
ni u rijeku u kojoj se ogleda
i koja ga svakog časa
može odnijeti.
Most ne može ići dalje od obala,
a meni, koji ga prelazim,
ma što ljudi iza mojih leđa
o meni govorili,
i dalje valja
misao mosta nastavljati.
Jer most ide samo do obala,
a ljudi, poput rijeke,
idu preko obala.
Sana je vodeni most
što se na oba svijeta propinje –
zeleni vodeni most
što vidljivo s nevidljivim spaja,
što ušće s izvorom svojim
povezuje.
Ljudima je zemlja obala,
a Sani je obala nebo.
Most na Sani
vjenčani je prsten
od kamena i sna.
Na mostu je grad
koji ime nosi
po mostu i rijeci.
Grad se ogleda u Sani,
a Sana na licima Sanjana.
Samo građani koji su dorasli
imenu svojega grada,
dobro znaju
da su najčvršći i najtrajniji
oni mostovi
čiji su temelji duboko ukopani
u srcima ljudi.
Takvim mostovima
ni ratovi ni poplave
ne mogu ništa.
Takvim ljudima most je
tek njihova sjena.
Ljudi grade mostove.
Mostovi izgrađuju ljude.
Samo na izvoru
obala obalu
dodirne.
To bear them on its back
regardless of whether
they carry flour or tanks across it.
In its essence, every bridge
is harmless.
It doesn’t even suspect
the river in which it is reflected
and which can carry it away
at any moment.
A bridge cannot reach beyond the banks
whereas I, who am crossing it,
whatever people may say
behind my back,
I still have to prolong the
thought of the bridge.
The bridge only reaches the banks,
but people, like the river,
reach beyond the banks.
The Sana is a water bridge
rearing up in both worlds - a green water bridge
connecting the visible to the invisible,
linking the mouth of the river
to its source.
For people, Land is their bank,
for the Sana, it is the Sky.
The bridge on the Sana
is a wedding ring
made of stone and dreams.
On the bridge stands a town
named after
the bridge and the river.
The town is reflected in the Sana,
and the Sana in the faces of its people.
Only citizens who are worthy of
their town’s name
are well aware
that the strongest and the most durable bridges
are those
whose foundations are entrenched
in the people’s hearts.
To such bridges,
neither wars nor floods
can do any harm.
To such people,
the bridge is but their shadow.
Odlazak
 bratu Husejinu
Nije mi žao zemlje.
Nije mi žao neba.
Čak ni Une.
Ni sunca. Ni mjeseca.
Nije mi žao masline.
Ni oraha. Ni mora.
što sam ja njima da oni za mnom pate?
Nitko od njih i ne zna da sam živio.
Nitko od njih i ne primjećuje da me nema.
Zar će za mnom plakati lipa
koju sam posadio?
Zar će za mnom naricati
zidovi moje kuće?
Ničeg mi materijalnoga nije žao.
Čak ni mene.
Jedino mi je žao što će moja
Majka za mnom plakati.
Jedino mi je žao mojih sestara
i moje braće.
Jedino mi je žao moje žene i djece moje
što im nisam stigao reći još koju riječ.
Njima ću sigurno nedostajati.
Njima sam još bio potreban.
No ništa u mojim rukama nije.
Nebo zemlji uvijek najavi i kišu,
i snijeg, i nevrijeme, i vedrinu...
Ali smrtnik nema takvoga neba
koje će najaviti njegov odlazak.
Svakim danom dolazimo i odlazimo.
Bez pozdrava.
Bez prtljage putujemo.
Prekinuti u pola riječi,
u pola daha.
Sretni da nas smrt zatekne na nogama,
da nas iznenadi usred posla,
usred ručka s djecom.
Svakoga trenutka dolazimo i odlazimo.
Sunce završi svoj krug,
a mi se već u svitanje ugasimo.
Nema pravila.
Nema reda.
Nema iznimaka.
Departure
 To my brother Husein
I feel no sorrow for the Earth.
Not even for the Sky.
Not even for the Una river.
Nor for the Sun. Nor for the Moon.
I feel no sorrow for the olive tree.
Nor for the walnut. Nor for the Sea.
Who am I for them to miss me?
None of them even knew I existed.
None of them even noticed I’m gone.
Will the linden tree that I planted
Cry for me?
Will the walls of my house
Lament me?
I do not regret anything material.
Not even myself.
I am only sorry
That my mother will cry for me.
I am only sorry for my sisters
And my brothers.
I am only sorry for my wife and children
And that I didn’t have time to say a few more words to them.
They will surely miss me.
They still needed me.
But nothing is in my hands.
The Sky always announces to the Earth–
The coming rain, snow, storm, or clear skies…
But a mortal has no such Sky
That will announce his departure.
Every day we come and we go.
Without a farewell.
We travel without luggage.
Interrupted in mid-sentence,
In mid-breath.
Happy if Death finds us on our feet,
Surprises us in the midst of work,
In the midst of lunch with our children.
Every moment we come and we go.
The Sun completes its circle,
But we, at dawn, we already fade away.
There are no rules.
There is no order.
There are no exceptions.
Za života
Jošku Berketu
Za života
naseljavaj oči prijateljima.
Veseli srce svoje.
Ne razmišljaj o njima,
nego im dođi dok još možeš
na nogama svojim stajati
jer bit će, nažalost,
i suviše vremena
kada ćemo se sve više
iz očiju u misli preseljavati -
kada ćemo se još jedino
mislima moći posjećivati.
While alive
To Joško Berket
While alive
Inhabit your eyes with friends.
Rejoice your heart.
Do not think of them
But come to them
As long as your feet can hold you.
Because only too soon, alas,
Will come a time
When we will move more and more
From our eyes to our thoughts -
When we will only be able
To visit each other with our thoughts.
10 ispovijedi prirode
Priroda ne počiva na žrtvi
Priroda ne zagađuje ljude
Priroda nema straha
Priroda nema ega
Priroda ne živi od novca
U prirodi nema bogatih i siromašnih
Priroda ništa ne čini za svoju dobrobit
Rijeke se ne ulijevaju u sebe
šutnja prirode nije smišljena
Priroda u svojem stvaranju nikada ne stavlja točku
Ten Confessions of Nature
Nature does not lay on sacrifice.
Nature does not pollute people.
Nature has no fear.
Nature has no Ego.
Nature does not live from money.
There are no rich or poor in Nature.
Nature does nothing for its own profit.
Rivers do not flow into themselves.
The silence of Nature has no hidden agenda.
Nature never puts a full stop to its creation.
Svjetlo u vodi
Sunce je palo po Sani.
Sjedinilo se sa zelenom rijekom.
Jednim licem
sad jedno drugo gledaju:
daju se,
a ne posjeduju se
jer su neovisni.
Light in the Water
The Sun fell into the Sana.
It merged with the green river.
The two now
Watch each other
With same face:
They give themselves away
Without possessing each other
Because they are independent.
Razodijevanje
Skinula je
sve što je na sebi imala.
Čak i nakit –
ogrlicu,
prstenje,
naušnice,
vrpcu za kosu...
Na njoj je ostala
samo njezina
ljepota.
Undressing
She took off
Everything she had on her.
Even the jewelry -
The necklace,
The rings,
The earrings,
The hair ribbon...
All that remained on her
Was her
Beauty.

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