by Vinko Kalinić
April 1st, 2011
1.
classic song has rhyme. modern one has metaphors, philosophy, play of words and lots of bullshitting. my song has nothing. just you. naked. pure. with a smile of an angel and a look of a whore. ( but yes! – the most beautiful angel and the worst possible whore!) literate. concrete. stripped. so eternal. so null and void. transient. and because of that, so ultimate. and because of that, just like that, unique, I’d like to preserve you in my memory. like the live wellspring where all my dreams will emerge from. always young, new, untainted...and reproducing you with the same power. with faith full of brutal craving. with memories. and reminiscence.
once when you wouldn’t be so young, so you can be prettier than any bride has ever been. once when everything will be dead, even this time that is so alive just because of you, so alive that it appears to us as eternity, when that time is dead too, and some other hands – hands young and thirsty for life! – when those hands will be digging through yours, and mine past, when they will be twisting, and grubbing, through its own past. through the time which will then be dead, like this time will be too, if you weren’t living in it, so shamelessly timeless – when they find me, shrivelled, and buried, in the dead words, so the dead letters will tremble. and those young, live hands. with bones inside them. like my bones too, and my hands tremble. now! full of you, in front of you, you who are so full of life. and in front of every trace they left behind, now already dead people. people who were live before – so alive, like I’m alive now, because I see you! – people who were trembling before us, witnessing themself with tremulous existence, witnessing you and me, and all those who will yet come. like I’m witnessing right now, that all what the life trembles for, is worth life and all that we love unconditionally. at the end, because the life also trembles in front of us, like we do in front of it. – the time is trembling! – it walks over everything that is temporal. all that is from Earth you return to Earth. the lips fade out and the eyes dry up. that’s the truth! sad and live truth. – but the smile remains! and the look! and eternity! the same smile, and the same look like yours. believe me. the man can’t be dead in the presence of this. nor even sad. the one that erase the time. the one in front of I tremble alive.
and which one is not made of Earth!
your navel contains more information than Wikipedia. With 2 metres of your skin I would be able to cover the whole world mankind: the dead one and the one that is getting extinct, and the one that is yet going to be born. Even the one that has never existed, but also the same one without our dreams would never have existed.
because of you, I’m out of my mind, like all of those who have their own transience transfused into the letters. because of you I write poems crucified like Christ on the seventh heaven. In heaven where there’s neither God’s Father, nor God’s Mother, nor Holy Spirit, nor Karl Marx, nor the Archbishop of Zagreb...nobody! – neither the one who would save us, nor the one who would cremate us.
only you.
who burn by my eyes. naked like the earth. and life. and everything alive in those eyes.
and inside me.
if I stop writing You, never will anything be so mine. if I stop singing You, never will ever be anything – neither of me, nor the earth, nor the poetry.
2.
seriously! before Your smile all facts are being demolished! On their own. Like before the power of sea, those sand castles we used to build when we were kids. beside you, I will never grow up. I’ll never get equal to your fucking smile. that’s why I love you, because you are as well as the Love, essential: real and – impossible!
3.
counting stupid things: the sun without heat, cold fire, water without clearness, nationalism, beer in the sun, recession, life without you...what is life without passion?
passion. passion. passion. pile of passion.
you howl like a bora beneath Velebit mountain. You have whirled me up like a hurricane scirocco when it whirled up the fishermen on Palagruža Island.
those fishermen, from the tales of my grandpa – galley slaves.
that isn’t silly!
if you didn’t exist, I would’ve been dead.
to the very last particle.
like dust.
in a desert.
Madonna of scirocco
and other poems (segment)
(Translated by
Darko Kotevski)
Darko Kotevski)
Manifest za tvoj osmijeh i moje pjesme
1.
klasična pjesma ima rimu. moderna metafore, filozofiju, igru riječi i hrpu preseravanja. moja nema ništa. samo tebe. golu. čistu. s osmijehom anđela i pogledom kurve. (nego kako! - najljepšeg anđela i najgore kurve!) doslovnu. konkretnu. ogoljenu. tako vječnu. tako ništavnu. prolaznu. i baš zato toliko ultimativnu. jer eto takvu te, neponovljivu, želim sačuvati u svom pamćenju. kao živi izvor iz kojeg će nepovratno izvirati svi moji snovi. uvijek mladi, novi, neokaljani… i rađati te istom mjerom. s vjerom punom brutalne žudnje. uspomenama. i sjećanjem.
jednom kad ne budeš više tako mlada, da budeš ljepša nego što je ikad bila ikoja mladenka. jednom kad sve bude mrtvo, i ovo vrijeme koje je sada samo zbog tebe tako živo, toliko živo da nam se čini vječnošću, kad i ono bude mrtvo, a neke druge ruke - ruke mlade i žedne života! - kad budu kopale po tvojoj, i mojoj, kad se budu grčile, i rovale, po svojoj prošlosti, po vremenu koje će tada biti mrtvo, kao što bi i ovo vrijeme bilo mrtvo da u njemu ne živiš, tako bezočno bezvremena - kad me nađu, zgrčenog, i zakopanog, u mrtvim riječima, da zadrhte mrtva slova. i te mlade, žive ruke. i kosti u njima. kao što i moje kosti, i ruke drhte. sada! pune tebe, pred tobom, koja si puna života. i pred svakim tragom kojeg ostaviše za sobom, sada već mrtvi ljudi. ljudi koji su nekad bili živi – tako živi, kao što sam i ja sada živ, jer te vidim! – koji su drhtali prije nas, svojim drhtavim postojanjem svjedočeći i sebe, i tebe, i mene, i sve one koji će tek doći. kao što i ja sada svjedočim, kako je života vrijedno samo ono pred čim život dršće i što se voli bezuvijetno. na kraju, jer i život drhti pred nama, kao i mi pred njim. - drhatvo je vrijeme! - ono gazi sve što je vremenito. zemlji se vrati što je od zemlje. uvenu usne i presuše oči. to je istina! tužna i živa istina. - ali osmijeh ostaje! i pogled! i vječnost! takav osmijeh, i takav pogled, kao što je tvoj. vjeruj mi. pred kojim čovjek ne može biti mrtav. ni tužan. koji briše vrijeme. pred kojim živ drhtim.
i koji nije od zemlje!
tvoj pupak sadrži više informacija nego wikipedija. s tvoja dva metra kože mogao bih prekriti čitavo čovječanstvo: i ono koje je mrtvo, i ono koje izumire, i ono koje će se tek roditi. čak i ono koje nikad nije postojalo, a bez kojeg ni naših snova ne bi bilo.
zbog tebe sam izvan pameti, kao i svi koji su ikad svoju prolaznost pretakali u slova. zbog tebe pišem pjesme razapet kao Krist na sedmom nebu. na nebu na kojem nema ni boga Oca, ni Majke Božje, ni Duha Svetoga, ni Karla Marxa, ni nadbiskupa zagrebačog… nikog! - ni onog tko bi nas spasio, ni onog tko bi nas spalio.
samo Ti.
koja goriš mojim očima. gola kao zemlja. i život. i sve što je živo u njima.
i u meni.
ako te prestanem pisati, nikada ništa neće više biti tako moje. ako te prestanem pjevati, nikada ništa neće biti - ni od mene, ni od zemlje, ni od poezije.
2.
ozbiljno! pred tvojim osmijehom ruše se sve činjenice! same od sebe. kao pred morem kule od pijeska koje smo gradili na plaži dok smo bili djeca. pored tebe nikad neću odrasti. nikad neću dorasti tvom jebenom osmijehu. zato te volim, jer si kao i Ljubav nasušna: stvarna i - nemoguća!
3.
nabrajam glupe stvari: sunce bez topline, hladna vatra, voda bez bistrine, nacionalizam, pivo na suncu, recesija, život bez tebe… što je život bez strasti?
strast. strast. strast. hrpa strasti.
zavijaš kao bura pod Velebitom. uzvitlala si me kao orkansko jugo ribare na Palagruži.
one, iz priča mog djeda - galijota.
to nije glupo!
da te nema, bio bih mrtav.
do posljednjeg zrna.
kao prašina.
u pustinji.
Vinko Kalinić
Gospa od juga
i druge pjesme
(ulomak) 
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