LJBUINKO JELIĆ
NEL LETTO
D’ADORAZIONE
Cos’ altro posso fare nella camera stretta,
vuoto e vinto dalla tristezza indistinta,
Se non inginocchiarmi
e chiedere ai cIeli purpurei
l’alba dell’eternità,
riscaldare per un pò almeno quel figlio nostro,
non ancora nato e in fremito
nel letto d’adorazione,
sotto l’abete snello ,
dove per la prima volta ti ho baciato,
e tu eri fiorita
e ti sei persa nella voragine inebriante
dietro le magiche labbra...
FUOCO E ORO
Sto camminando lungo i prati dei sogni sonori
In me l’anima freme –
rimanere o partire?
Ogni uomo nasce
Con un angelo sulla spalla sinistra
e un diavolo sulla destra.
Dove andare,
Il destino sceglierà la strada.
Da cinque bolle di vetro
Dove si nascondono il
fuoco e l’oro.
Nelle mani di chi si trova il pendolo della speranza?
E dove si fermerà
Tra la paura e la speranza? Dove andare?
E qualunque sia il posto
che ci accetterà
Senza sospetto e disdegno?
Con sguardo verso il celo,
Aspettiamo la nascita di un altro sole.
Ci alziamo dalle ceneri
Nonostante il dolore strozzato.
LA GROTTA
Se non fossi cosi grande
come potremmo capire
perché la paura molto spesso
si associa al nostro respiro incerto
Se non fossi cosi oscura,
Come sapremo per quale ragione
stiamo bramando
per la fiamma segreta
che c’illuminava
prima del germe dei nostri nomi propri.
Se non fosse creato
sulla lingua della talpa santa
non potremmo mai trovare la strada
fino al cuore del prodigio insaziabile
dove si nascondono i nomi
della nostra temporanea dimora.
traduzione dal serbo in italiano Biljana Z.Biljanovska
riveduta da Claudia Piccinno
About the author
Ljubinko Jelić was born in 1932 in the village of Šarani, close to Gornji Milanovac. He graduated from the Faculty of Economy in Belgrade. For some time he lived in Munich. He works in construction and design, and ocasionally publishing.
So far he published: Letters to my love, Below the burning hammers, Wastefield, Sower’s gentleness, the Shine of the miraculous, Ravager before the door, The Magic ring, Above-Below, Closer to the glacier, Architect’s phonebook, Bitter seed, On the edge of the ash field, Building in, Tea for the neighbor, Around the dreamy nest, On another heaven, Angel in a greenhouse, Architect’s diary, Building and illusions, Graceful monophony, Collected poems in four books, Epistles of love.
His works have been translated into German, Romanian, Italian, English, Macedonian, Russian and Check and can be found in several anthologies of Serbian poetry. He has been awarded and is a member of Serbian Literary Society and European Academy for Culture and Art.
The awards he received include: Award of Serbian Literary Society for life’s work; “Ivo Andric” Academy’s International award for life’s work; Recognition of Cultural-educational community of Belgrade for exceptional contribution to the city of Belgrade; “Recognition of Morava” for total contribution to creativity in poetry and award of the Society of Playwrights for total contribution to the culture of Serbia.
He lives and works in Belgrade.
a few poems in English
EPISTLES OF LOVE
Ljubinko Jelić
Translation: Bojan Belić
Old sage and anchorite Isaac Siron said:
„Find in
your heart the ladders of love
and you
will climb to heaven. “
1.
From a purple cloud, one morning,
after long anticipation,
you dawned in my marveling hug
and whispered:
„Every moment is a breath
entirely
enlightened from within by god-
incarnated flame,
our only
legacy of love
and absolute possession in thankful hands.
From a purple cloud,
one
spring morning,
alike to a rain of light,
you
poured on my already-
thirsty garden, and infused spiritual
immensity
with joyful drips.
From a purple cloud,
one phantasmagoric morning,
you
breathed through in me,
and asked the mesmerizing air a life–
giving riddle.
One
morning you became my tiny day.
2.
My only love,
In this confession hour,
I have no
one to tell, but you,
about mountains of fragile
restlessness that pierced deep
to the
bottom of my lonesome sanctuary,
and about
a snowstorm,
as real as it is unreal, night and day,
ever more
unsparingly pouring
on my front door and skyward windows,
and a
ruinous wind that flounces and plunders,
from the
youthful frames,
pictures of promised future,
up to the immense opaque clouds.
That
nightmarish blizzard,
in shapeless ripples, belated remorse,
on sinful
lips cancels and renounces bastions risen.
3.
My love,
All the things I’d wish,
what can I ignite in myself
other than silence,
out of incapacity to tell you
how much
I love you
and why I climb up the hill,
tall and shaded,
what
priceless can I bring
to the
top and place it before
our shades into dishes shaped
to fit a
wistful look and sigh...
4.
My love,
You are my window,
open towards days sunny
amid unsparing winter,
and my
flower that holds
the
daybreak of salvation
when
there is no other
beam nor amazeful light in me,
already advanced down the field of uncertain.
You are my window
and
irreplaceable horizon
where I go slowly,
with eyes closed.
5.
My love,
Under dashes of cruel winter
I whisper
a prayer to keep you,
in spite of ever stronger
waves of
an invisible sea
and heralds from lands
beyond
dream.
Lord, on
your wide palm my love
is impregnated.
My love,
Lord, forgive us senseless
for no longer committing
ourselves to each other,
believing that Your words,
clear and
utterly strange,
planted forever a seed of love
in our breaths and arms ready
to stay
embraced
even
after awakening.
6.
My love,
My life, full of invisible longing,
has the
shape of your ardent body
which
keeps that cherished secret
for the moments
of your absence in the liberating night
before dawn,
above the blooming heaven,
in which we braided the threads
of
mystical flame.
We are two butterflies
fluttering passionately,
too close
to the dire candle
which burns oracular
somnolence in solitude of love.
Love and kisses
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