Ljubica Miletić
Nació en 1948, en Belgrado, SERBIA. Terminó la escuela secundaria en Split. Se graduó en la Facultad de Filología de Belgrado. Es editora de la editorial "Prosveta".
Sus poemas han sido incluidos en numerosas antologías y traducida al rutenio, eslovaco, turco, rumano, polaco, Inglés, italiano, búlgaro, portugués, griego, ruso y esloveno.
Premios: "¡Lázaro Vuckovic" y "Risto Ratkovic"
Los antepasados
Ellos no tienen sombra
Ellos no tienen vоz
Еllos perdieron el corazón
Y a pesar de todo
Están con nosotros
Ellos están hechos de sombras
Ellos están hechos de voces
Están vestidos con el tiempo
Ellos viven en nuestro fuero interno
Ellos dejaron las palabras y las cartas
Para responder a toda pregunta nuestra
Dejaron lo mejor
Para estar siempre con nosotros
Aguas blancas
Detrás de siete lejanas puertas
Siete mundos blancos
Detrás de siete obras escritas
En el aire
Siete días se pesan y miden
Cada uno de ellos es un siglo
O acaso mucho más
Lo que aquí está lejos
Allí es siempre cercano
Detrás de ello hay otros días
Otros años y otros tiempos
Allí todo es luз
Y una semilla mejor
Desde las alturas
Sobre nosotros cae
Un puñado de polvo
Para proteger el nombre
Del signo inverso
NOVA KUĆA
To nije kuća iz mog sna
Od tračkog mermera
Boje zore
Ta kuća nema istočna vrata
Ni ustreptalo srce
Ni vidik-pružen u polje
To nije kuća mojih predaka
Bela i prostrana
S pogačom i vinom u putiru
To je kuća brojeva propisa
I zabrana-kuća nemira
Kuća bez ukućana
U slepoj ulici od ničeg zidana
To je kuća opsene
I varljive nade da je prava
Možda bolja od kuće iz mog sna.
PRETEČA
Znao si sveti da će loza
Da zasvetli
Da će ime od iskoni
U reč preći
Da će mnogi na strah svikli
U po dana u po noći
Tebe zvati da svedočiš
I prekineš silu zala
Mrtvo zrno u hleb nikne
Posle žetve
a tebi je večnost dala
Da se vineš u visine
JESEJEVA LOZA
Mi smo ta vita loza. to zrno svetlosti.
Što kroz vekove sja.
Mi smo to seme drevno. na visini sazrelo.
Voljom Gospodnjom.
Mi smo taj stub beli. ispisan očevim pismom.
Ilinskim.
Mi smo sjaj vekova. daljina vremena.
I uspon nesavladiv zlu.
Mi smo čuvari vremena. osmog Jesejevog sina.
I njegovog hrama večnog.
Mi smo to što smo. i vi to znate.
Hordo Zlog. / Poezija SCG
ORANJE
Opet vetar kroz lobanju poje
Tropar duši koja ne hte muku.
Seljak ore. Izorava kosti,
Možda svoje, možda svetog Luku.
Ore seljak. Izorao pretka.
Možda kneza, možda nekog sebra.
Ikonica trula čelo glave leži,
Zamrljana para sa onoga sveta.
Stade seljak iznad drama srebra.
Gleda slova nevešte kovnice.
Gleda njivu što je možda groblje.
Vidi sebe, a ne vidi lice.
Opet vetar kroz lobanju poje
Tropar duši koja ne hte muku.
Seljak vraća zemlju gde je bila:
Svojom rukom prepokriva ruku! / Projekat Rastko
IT WAS LIKE THAT, MY LORD
Lord, we were with knives, daggers
In fields, on enclosed fields. We were with fire
And knots. In Constantinople, in Pest...
We were with iron needles in the eye. With a sickle in the spine.
We were with the heteredox cross. With buckshot. We were
Lord, tied, exchanged, sold, cut...
We were taken away on horses, sacrificed to turbid whirpools
We were mislead with silk and gold. We were
With rich swearing when we refused
To be slaves.
And we erected churches to Thee, Lord.
Baptized our children, sang songs, we sowed
Bloody bread Lord. At the shoulder blade looked
And prayed to distant God not to reject us.
To ascend us to His heights. Into our sight
Light to place! Not even the dead to abandon,
Under the cross. We looked for the path among
Stars, Lord, while this poor soil,
Instead of with water, with blood watered!
Out of dust, Lord, we stood up on our feet!
With broken ribs rode our horses.
Carried banners with a wounded arm. And at times,
Only at times, after all the battles,
On the backs of our dead, we drank a glass of wine.
We have always been the same. For centuries in the straw
And glory! For centuries neither right nor wrong!
Lighted the last candle to ourselves.
And never cursed anything God had given us.
Only defended the landowner's name.
And there were times we barefoot on ice, nude in the sunshine
Carried a stone round our necks even when we were not to.
And we stood, and stood upright
While they deceived us with salted fish and deprived us of
Water. Then we sailed into darkness.
Out of it again,to struggle for what we dreamt of.
And they again deceived us. And cursed us.
And in vain we replaced our wasted extremites
with wooden ones
And did not moan, firm in our faith.
We only sang while dying.
Even nowadays we sing. It's difficult for us to
Change, Lord. They know that, as well.
Even centuries can't simply crush us, false knowledge,
Lord, lasts short, since our bones are
Full of lead, and knives and our heads full of weeds
Growing tamely above them.
Nevertheless we do not form the roofs touch
The nests made by and form afar arrived
Wild swallows.
And remember this, Lord, centuries old wounds
Speak out of myself... This is what the dead, through my mouth,
Silently speak about themselves and the ancestors
If anyone anywhere mentions this country,
I want Thee to know everything
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario