Poems by Pavle Goranović 

 
1.
Summer, Late Summer
 
It is as if we are in the late summer, i feel.
In that time, which visibly dies away by itself.
Like people dissapear, former people,
now even with former names, the names that are by now unimportant to all.
There are so many which no one remembers,
— how many of those whom no one remembers
And what woud one do with those numbers,
Their days are in others’ memories,
and even those memories as soon as tomorrow will be dead.
And us, who haven’t learned that yet.
 
But, the sea is still somehow calm.
Adriatic is being silent with us.
It’s as if suddeny there is hope. The sea is really calm
and lonely lighthouses announce different days.
The illusion of someone’s unexpected arrival.
 
The silence of the late summer is still ruthless.
Bocce players are finishing for tonihgt,
there’s no more tumult.
In such way our lives too, merely fall silent.
The last sound, which noone claims.
 
I remember in Cetinje we called them differently:
I’ve never lost in bocce balls.
Not even from much older than I.
That lonesome, in fact a bit posh play too,
no touching.
 
Again that sharp noise, ball against a ball.
Puff. The end. Life is not going on anymore. Puff, puff…
Or something like that. Sound which is a tongue.
Straight to the sould, straight to the heart.
Only silence can understand that.
The continuum has stopped even before we got here.
That narrow space for hitting — life into life.
Emptiness into emptiness.
And it echoes early, always too early.
When we think that the game had just began. But it’s over instantly.
 
Bocce players are finishing too.
The summer is leaving. One more move or two, our eyes are at the end of the terrain and they withdraw unto themselves. Our eyes.
The eyes don’t listen to the sound of the bocce ball.
Those eyes that invisibly disappear, not knowing the time.
(And they say that the eyes get old the last.)
 
Even before the late summer,
silent Bocce players are leaving. Each on their own way.
The summer is leaving, life is leaving.
But we are still alive somehow…
In that sound that rushes to the sea,
unobtrusive, calm, ours…
 
Late summer which is us personally
In words and emptiness that ecoes tonight
via Boka bay and further,
much further…
The summer is leaving. And Bocce players.
are finishing for tonight.
And eyes are the grey balls of dissapearance.
The circles have just passed by.
 
The summer and i are leaving.
 
 
Translated by Lena Ruth Stefanovic
 
 
 
2.
Via Sacra
 
You ask me: why do I always talk
in the past tense. I don’t know what to say,
being buried in the story about
your town, like a word
 
in a poem about the homeland.
Truly, I am talking about the moment
when we noticed together
that, before us, lion killings
 
took a long time to be prepared.
After that, we were left with
the usual disputes about the origin.
 
For, one is conversation, one is the way;
you knew that well, Horatius Flaccus,
and the land was saturated with blood.
 
Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević
 
 
​1.
LJETO, KASNO LJETO
 
Kao da smo u kasnom ljetu, osjećam.
U onom vremenu koje na oči iz sebe samog čili.
Kao što nestaju ljudi, nekadašnji ljudi,
sad čak i bivša imena, svima nevažna imena već.
Koliko ih samo ima kojih se niko ne sjeti,
‒ koliko samo onih kojih se niko ne sjeti.
I šta bi neko s tim brojevima,
njihovi dani su u tuđim sjećanjima,
a i ta sjećanja su već sjutra mrtva.
I mi, koji još to nijesmo saznali.
 
Ali još je nekako mirno more.
Jadran tihuje sa nama.
Kao da odjednom ima nade. Baš tiho je more
i usamljeni svjetionici najavljuju drugačije dane.
Varka nečijeg iznenadnog dolaska.
 
Tišina je kasnog ljeta ipak neumoljiva.
Boćari završavaju za noćas,
nema više graje.
Tako i životi naši ‒ samo utihnu.
Posljednji zvuk, na koji se niko ne poziva.
 
Sjećam se da smo ih na Cetinju zvali drugačije:
u bulinama nikad nijesam izgubio.
Ni od mnogo starijih.
Ta usamljenička, zapravo pomalo
i gospodska igra, bez dodira.
 
Opet taj reski zvuk, kugla u kuglu.
Puf. Kraj. Život više ne ide. Puf, puf...
Ili tako nekako. Zvuk koji je jezik.
Pravo u dušu, u srce pravo.
To samo tišina može razumjeti.
Zaustavlja se trajanje i prije nego što smo ovdje došli.
Taj uski prostor udaranja – život u život.
Praznina o prazninu.
I rano odzvanja, uvijek prerano.
Kad mislimo da je igra tek počela. A odmah je kraj.
 
Završavaju i boćari.
Odlazi ljeto.
Još jedan potez ili dva, oči nam odlaze na kraj terena
i povlače se u sebe. Naše oči.
Oči ne slušaju zvuk bulina.
Te oči koje nevidljivo čile ne znajući za vrijeme.
(A kažu da oči najkasnije stare.)
 
Čak i prije kasnog ljeta,
tihi boćari odlaze. Svako na svoju stranu.
Odlazi ljeto, život odlazi.
Ali nekako smo još živi...
U onom zvuku koji hita ka moru,
nenametljivo, mirno, naše...
 
Kasno ljeto koje smo mi sami
u riječima i praznini koja večeras odzvanja
kroz Boku i dalje,
mnogo dalje...
Odlazi ljeto. I boćari završavaju za noćas.
A oči su sive kugle nestajanja.
Krugovi što su tek minuli.
 
Odlazimo ljeto i ja.
 
Svako na svoju stranu.
 
 
2.
VIA SACRA
 
Pitaš me: zašto uvijek govorim
u vremenu prošlom. Ne znam ti reći,
ja – ukopan u priči o
tvom gradu, kao riječ
 
u pjesmi o domovini.
Uistinu, pričam o trenutku
kad smo skupa primijetili
da su ubistva lavova
 
pripremana dugo, prije nas.
Nakon toga, ostale su nam
strane prepirke o porijeklu.
 
Jer, jedan je razgovor, jedan je put;
Znao si to dobro, Horatius Flaccus,
a zemlja je bila natopljena krvlju.

Pavle Goranović (1973), poet, essayist, editor, and associate member of Montenegrin Academy of the Sciences and Arts. His Ph. D. is in the field of the theory of contemporary arts. He has published the following books: Ornament of the Night (1994); Reading Silence (1997); Book of Illusions (2002); How Books Smell (2008); Tin Ujević and Montenegro (2008); Cinnabar (2009);  City of the Full Moon (2014); The Names of Longing (2015); Poetry (2017); Tin Ujević and Expressionism (2020), Parallel Readings (2022), Solitary Hotel (2024), Linea prima (2024). His books and literary works have been translated into twenty world languages. He has been given a series of accolades and awards for his literary works: "Risto Ratković Award" for the best book of poetry published in Montenegro, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serbia, and Croatia (2009), "Trinaestojulska nagrada", state award for results of exceptional importance in the field of cultural and artistic creation (2019), "Vito Nikolić Award" as the best Montenegrin lyricist (2010/2011), "The Miroslav’s Gospel State Award" for the best literary work in Montenegro during three years (2014). He is represented in many anthologies of Montenegrin and former Yugoslav poetry, in the New European Poets anthology (USA), and in Anthology of the poetry of the Slavic lands, Grand Tour A Journey Through the Young Poetry of Europe (München, Germany). He was the chairman of the Board of Directors of the Forum for Slavic Cultures and the Minister of Culture in the Government of Montenegro. 

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