Poems by Bratislav Tashkovski 

A HISTORY OF ONE’S LIFE
 
A lot could be written
And a lot omitted
About what’s made my life.
This isn’t an autobiography
Nor a lyrical attempt for self-portraying.
These are words about my path beneath the sky
And about all my desires.
Some things may not even happened that way.
All the rest could be mere vanity
And giving an account of memories
That made me who I am.
And what now?
What to do with the breathing air that remains?
With these hands willing to write to the end?
Nothing.
This little history has no room for big things.
I remember everything:
The first cry,
All joys, but also all sorrows
When I returned my loving ones to the earth
To become dust again.
Of course, it made me a rock
That doesn’t feel the erosion of time
Before the image I see daily.
I’ve become an irony to myself,
A man who still believes in new beginnings
But looks more like a shadow.
My time
Fights all other times
That want to tell me
Time has come for me
To think about taking a long rest.
But I, the word-keeper,
Still write
Against all odds.
I’m still alive.
 
Translated from Macedonian by Zoran Anchevski
 
 
 
WORDS
 
I’m not a prophet
But I use his words
To support mine.
Truly
You can say anything
And believe it’s true.
Many think that way
And are sure their time has come.
Let them be.
Let them enjoy their greatness
And let them think so.
My words are my tears
And I know how to listen
When someone else talks better than me.
That’s the reason the books exist:
To remind us
Both of Greatness and of Foolishness.
 
Translated from Macedonian by Zoran Anchevski

Bratislav Tashkovski (1960) – poet, novelist and playwright. He has written twenty five poetry collections, five novels, five plays and a book of essays. Some of his books have been published in English, Albanian, Serbian, and Bulgarian, whereas selections of his work have been translated into Russian, Spanish, Swedish, Turkish, Romanian, Montenegrin, etc. His work has received several major national awards.

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