Poems by Dorta Jagić
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1.
Literally, Only Literally the night before the exam on Christian mystics I’m dreaming that in the black body of st. augustine I’m flying through space, looking for stars, especially supernovas. suddenly I hit a large one from behind. it was greta garbo, and with a blink of her eyes she writes on my hand: “I was always so far away from earth, that, even if I burned out so long ago the sand of light still rains on you . . . ” and so happy that she has met someone from earth she offers me a bottle of mothers’ milk, that is the lactation of her mom, the big Alfa Centauri Translated by Miloš Đurđević 2. Retired Seas amongst the people from Zagreb are numerous witnesses claiming that retired seas were just like retired people. they dry up and shrink, and then find the best position to help the swelling of life – near people. nobody knows who filled up our bedrooms with those invisible seas. (the bottom of that sea is the floor and the ceiling is the surface.) because of their rapid shrinking, they are as thick as honey so the ears of sleepers are no longer drilled with the crackling of old-fashioned parcels containing ghosts’ eyes. nor do parents fear that children will hear them. even the expensive pictures twist no more under car headlights; now they are just inadequately positioned searchlights. but the greatest blessing to sleepers was that they could go barefoot to the toilet across the scorching dregs of burnt light bubbles. the only trouble is when somebody suffers from insomnia the sea gets so cold that all the rest have to plug into the life machines. as early as the middle of the next week it falls in love with all sleepers and the question arises how will it be when the family moves on? nothing bad. that could not confuse it. just like all furniture, it places itself anywhere in the removal truck, just to be as far as possible from the aquarium because it can’t bear all that water and the fish. Translated by Miloš Đurđević 3. Vertigo on the first day of our training you swung the trapeze for two astronauts under our feet. I told you to stop. it was too high. and three more years of shouting. stop. wait. I’m getting sick. underneath the inquisitive crowd was staring, hungry for disasters, and for them you were delivering litanies about physics and stars every morning. in the mornings when you vomited the heavy wedding veil you begged me not to look down ever. I could fall. and I, by pure chance, did not look up anyway. you shouted to them that I was your brightest star. but when extinguished the stars end up on the floor of a butchers’ cold store. Translated by Miloš Đurđević The poems presented here are from her second and third books, Tamagochi mi je umro na rukama (Tamagochi Died In My Arms), from 2002, and Đavo i usidjelica – ispovijedi (Devil and the Spinster – Confessions), 2003, respectively. 1. Doslovno, samo doslovno noć prije ispita iz kršćanske mistike sanjam da u crnom tijelu svetog augustina letim svemirom i tražim zvijezde, osobito supernove. ubrzo se s leđa sudarim s jednom velikom. bila je to greta garbo, koja mi treptanjem očima ispiše po ruci: “I was always so far away from earth, that, even if I burned out so long ago the send off light still rains on you…” i sva razdragana zbog susreta sa zemljaninom ponudi me buteljom majčinoga mlijeka, naime laktacijom njihove mame, velike Alfe Centauri 2. Umirovljena mora medu Zagrepčanima ima mnoštvo svjedoka da su umirovljena mora baš kao i umirovljeni ljudi. em se osuše i smanje, em nadu najbolji položaj za pomaganje bujanju života – blizu ljudi. nitko ne zna tko je ta nevidljiva mora ulio u naše spavaće sobe dupkom. (dno tog mora je pod sobe a strop površina.) zbog rapidnog smanjenja, gustoće su meda pa spavačeve uši više ne buši pucketanje zastarjelih paketića očiju duhova. ni roditelji više ne strahuju da će ih čuti djeca. više se ni vrijedne slike ne ugibaju pod farovima automobila; to su sad samo tragačka svjetla loše postavljena. ipak, najveći je blagoslov spavačima što mogu na wc bosi preko užarenog taloga pregorenih žarulja. jedina je nevolja da se more ima li netko nesanicu toliko ohladi da se ostali moraju prikopčati na aparate za oživljavanje. sve spavače nasmrt zavoli već sredinom drugog tjedna pa se postavlja pitanje a što kad obitelj odseli? ništa strašno. to ga ne zbunjuje. kao i sav namještaj, smjesti se bilo gdje u kamionu za selidbe, samo što dalje od akvarija jer teško podnosi svu tu vodurinu i ribe. 3. VERTIGO odmah prvog dana treninga pod nogama si nam zanjihao trapez za dva astronauta. rekla sam stani. previsoko je. pa još tri godine vikanja. stani. čekaj. hvata me mučnina. zapiljila se znatiželjna svjetina odozdo, gladna nesreće, a ti si joj svakoga jutra držao litanije o fizici i zvijezdama. u jutra kad bi povraćao teški svadbeni veo molio si me da ni slučajno ne pogledam dolje. da ne padnem. a ja, sasvim slučajno, nikad nisam ni dizala pogled. dovikao si im o meni kao svojoj najsjajnijoj zvijezdi, ali zvijezde kad se ugase završe na podu mesarske hladnjače. |
Dorta Jagić has had her poetry, short stories, travelouges and theatre criticism published in various magazines. Since 1999, she has worked as a theater teacher as well as a director in student theater companies. Her poems and short stories have been translated into many languages (German, English, Polish, Romanian, Italian, Slovakian, Bulgarian, Greek, Spanish, French, Turkish, etc.) Her work is featured in various Croatian and foreign anthologies and magazines (Manuskripte, Trafika Europe, Poiesis, Arquitrave, Poemari etc.) She received many awards for poetry: Goran Award for young poets, Croatia, 1999, Balkan Grand Prize for Poetry, Romania, 2007, The European Poet of Freedom Award, Poland, 2014, Gorans Wreath, Croatia, 2017. She is also for years a teacher of creative writing. She lives in Zagreb as freelance artist.
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