Poklonite pesmu...

[ZOE]

Poziv

O, ako zbilja, dok je mrak
Kad san utiša duše žive
I s neba padne sjajni zrak
Na neme grobne ploče sive.
O, ako zbilja u taj čas
Opusti redom grob za grobom,
Ja čekam tad na susret s tobom,
Ja čekam tad tvoj lik, tvoj glas.

O, dođi mi, kroz noć, kroz san,
Onakva kao zadnjeg časa,
K'o led i sva k'o zimski dan;
Od bola blijeda i bez glasa…

O, dođi mi što prije, što prije,
K'o vetra dah, k'o zvuk, il' tajna,
K'o strašna sjen, k'o zvijezda sjajna,
Svejedno je: što prije, što prije!

Ne zovem tebe ja zbog tog
Da korim ljude čija zloba
Učini kraj života tvog,
Ni da pročitam tajne groba.

I ne zbog tog, što sumnji roj
U duši nosim: da prebolim
Ne mogu ja; i sad te volim,
I još sam ja ko nekad tvoj.

Aleksandar Puškin

[TVO.JA_]

Teška bolest

Kakve li su tvoje misli
dok ja smišljam
kako da te pitam za njih

za te misli
sakrivene
iza tvoga mirisnog lica
na koje se privikavam.

Eto ležiš,
Evo ležim,

oko nas je besposlena romantika,
nož u zidu
i haljina tvoja njime
samo meni na videlu
prikovana,
ja slušam tvoje srce
ono mojoj ljubomori malo kaže,
ja hoću tvoje misli,
ja hoću da uništim zadnju kap
u tvom tajnom kapilaru
gde se krije
povremeni san o njemu,
o detinjstvu,
o slobodi,
ja hoću tvoje misli
sakrivene,
iza tvoga opasno lepoga lica
na koje se ubistveno privikavam.

A ti ćutiš.
Nema leka.

D.Trifunović

[NSdjanka]

Sećanje

Smrt je toliko kratka
da je presna laž
kako čovek umirući
preživljava tobož
nekakvu prošlost
čak ceo svoj vek
u preseku
i tako dalje.

Sve je to
još gusto
život
koji smrt seče
medjom oštrom
kao giljotina.

Aleksandar Tišma

[ZOE]

Samotna ljubav

Ponoć već je prošla, svjetlo mi se gasi,
Na baršunu crnom leži teška noć;
Čelom mi se truni spomen tvojih vlasi
Ljubavi daleka, kad ćeš, kad ćeš doć?

Otišla si. Gdje si? Ko da umrla si,
Udaljenost ima smrti tužnu moć,
Srcem srsi, strasti, dušom sumnje, strasi
Poginut ću noćas i za dragom poć.

Ljubav nije sreća!Znaš li kad mi reče?
Ljubav, to je rana, i ta rana peče,
Ljubav boli, boli, kao život boli,

Teško, teško onom koji jako voli.
Nisi pravo rekla. Ljubav bol je, plamen,
Ali muči samo kad sam sâm ko kamen.


Antun Gustav Matoš

[muchomachoR]

UNENDING LOVE

by: Rabindranath Tagore

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times...
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it's age old pain,
It's ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time.
You become an image of what is remembered forever.
You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers,
Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,
the distressful tears of farewell,
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

[starsica]

Edgar Allan Poe - Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

[NSdjanka]

Velike vatre

Prvo sam znao ko sam
A onda krenuo svuda
Gde ima i gde nema
Što usamljeni traže

Od svega digao ruke
Kroz zverka na oprezu
Kroz pojas mrtve straže
Krenuo u tu jezu

Što god sam goreo duže
Manje sam grejao zna se
Velike vatre služe
Da male vatre gase

D. Trifunović

[ZOE]

Djevojčici mjesto igračke

Ljerko, srce moje, ti si lutka mala,
Pa ne slutiš smisla žalosnih soneta,
Kesteni pred kućom duhu tvom su meta,
Još je deset karnevala do tvog bala.

Ti se čudiš, dušo. Smijat si se stala
Ovoj ludoj priči Tvoja duša sveta
Još ne sniva kako zbore zrela ljeta.
Gledaš me ko grle. Misliš to je šala.

Al će doći veče kad ćeš, ko Elvira,
Don Huana sita i lažnih kavalira,
Sjetiti se sjetno nježne ove strofe.

Moje ce ti ime šapnut moja muza,
A u modrom oku jecati ce suza
Ko za mrtvim clownom iza katastrofe.

Antun Gustav Matos