POEMS from Macedonia, edited by Olivera Docevska & Elena Prendjova
Like precious pearls
hidden in shells
yearning for pure love
for kindness and for tenderness
shines in girls’ souls.
These young and innocent souls
sail in their dreams
flying to their joys
carried on swan’s wings.
Do not trample over the budding
blossom of girlhood
do not throw a black veil
over the unspoiled youth.
By Dragica Najceska, translated by Marija Jones
You have noticed him at a party
You have noticed him at a party
You have noticed him at a party, at a family gathering
At a table or in a living room, acsoss your side or next to you,
When all the youngsters and the elders
Are gathered by a good reason,
Quite often across yor side,
Under an electric light or on a daylight
You have seen him
Through the reflection of the house’s porcelain
Arranged especially for that occasion
Oh, dear me, it glitters!
His lightning glances and shrieks
Silent sighs and flatterings,
As he reaches for the glass, for the meze, while he’s champing
Foam at the mouth
Insatiable desire to grab a young flesh
Dancing around him
Unaware of its splendour and arisen young nature,
Ignorant of the filth of the comming life!
So,the young chick has a long silver hair
and warm cheeks, and is very shy,
Filling his cup aloof,
Because that’s the habit here, of the houshold! Oh, dear me, oh! A housholder’s habit.
You have seen him as he moans, oh dear me, lurking under the table
He touches himself and you get the urge to flay his skin
And you can see his lusty eyes,
And he’s drooling like a mad hound
On a short leash,
Bitting his teeth outthose young wings,
A roasted chicken,
Watching his lewd fantasies
Around the plate and the folded napkin
And you’re disgusted with it, oh dear, so disgusted
As he thrusts his tongue to around,
To her frailty
While all the other guests are keeping their interest on the probity of housholder’s wife and his kindness.
You have met him on gatherings, you have sat next to him!
Oh dear! You are quite confident
That your fantasy in the domain of lechery and instinct
Is not as potent
As he can perform in reality
Only if he could have the chance,
With that vicious, lascivious, filthy desire,
That repulsive bitch,
He is carrying around in his pocket
And gushung forth
Oh dear! Only if she could touch him, only to touch him
Oh dear! Oh! See him fantasize, oh, bustard, dear me, oh!
The life of the family party
And you get the urge to flay his skin
As he shouts out a seemingly naive vulgar joke
You follow the eyes of the confused chick like a cop
And you see she is not clear what the heck is going on here!
I am just another old and plucked chicken to him and there’s no use of my pointing my eyes to him as with a knife
And what could I possibly do, my God,
The simpleminded relatives will crusify me, for I’m seeing things, allegedly
But, of course, he is such a good man, a parent, a father...
It’s irrelevant to him
A niece, a next door girl, a daughter,
He places them under the same tag,
We are such a low impudent society
We go on all eyes blind before these scenes,
As if this happens only to someone else...
And not here and not now, and not that way
But it is right here and it is right now, and surely it is exactly in this manner...
You have met him at a family gathering,
At some family party,
He must have sat next to you, oh! Bustard, my dear me, oh!
And the whole world stopped,
Realizing what damage “a man with a good soul” can do, how can cripple someone...
Just if he had a better chance to do it...
And now it’s just a play, a foreplay,
Oh! Bustard. Oh!
You have seen him at a party. At a family gathering! He is sitting across your side.
ROOM OF SILENCE
One more point on the wall!
In the hands flood of autumn fears.
In the home of two halves on the floor one blackeyed woman is silent
with blue heart in secret steps is waiting.
In late hour languishes one female desire.
Frightful blow from male hand sharpen
in cherry color
on her white and soft skin.
Compounding the present and future tenses!
Pain in backpack from wounds in the past!
She continues to seeking staircase out of the darkness.
In this world hatred blooms
with black and white line.
Marina Mijakovska, translated by the author
DOLL ON STRINGS
Walking down the blacktop
while wild rabbits are screaming in boiling water
at each step I take I inhale blood to live
I am laying down in the gush of bewildered flowers flowing in my hair
You and I
incalculable steps of the flesh
a city like any other city that we walked
and we did not know
and we did not know each other
when all those energies were fermenting but alive in the vertiginous water
from the tongues of the dead kites to tell us to tell you
I am here
I follow you from each airport gate
I know when I hear your name
it is a music with unknown rhythm
and I tremble from your gaze
and I lost my voice when you came to me
and my skin was becoming darker after each bewildered step of yours
my growing nipples my lips burning in the winter:
I knew we were one same city
one same shadow
one same rain
and the night before I met you I was crying like a child
in me I could hear screaming all the slaughtered animals
and I was growing shamelessly mute
wide open legs underneath you
a layer of fertile wheat in your overwhelming whispers
humbly perverse you arise above the eradicated palls of the purple passion.
By Natasha Sardzoska