Kalinić, Vinko

· Vinko Kalinić: Pola pjesme (Half a song) · Vinko Kalinić: Ne znam odgovor (Don’t know the answer) · Vinko Kalinić: Pure call of the wilderness

Vinko Kalinić: Pola pjesme (Half a song)

Vinko Kalinić

Pola pjesme

Probudio sam se jutros s pola pjesme u glavi

pamtim, sanjao sam te – da, bile su to tvoje usne

i ruke! i nos! i uho! – i mogao bih napisati pjesmu

sasvim strašnu neku pjesmu, pristojnu i zanosnu

recimo, o čovjeku koji je umro u snu, ljubeći te

ali ne znam kako ti oči pretočiti u riječi

te strašne oči koje me uvijek iz nova prepolove

na mene koji bi umro zbog njih

i na mene koji bi umro bez njih

– oči, pred kojima ni jedna pjesma

nikada neće biti ispjevana do kraja

Komiža, 20. 11. 2010

Half a song

I woke up this morning with half a song in my head

I remember, I dreamt about you – yes, those were your lips

and hands! and nose! and ear! – and I could write a song

some absolutely dreadful song, decent and passionate

let’s say, about a man who died in his dream, while kissing you

but I don’t know how to transfuse your eyes into words,

those enticing eyes which bisect me in two all over again,

to a me that would die for them

and to a me that would die without them

– those eyes, in front of which no song

will ever be sung till the end

Translation by Darko Kotevski, Melbourne

Vinko Kalinić poetry

kempis.nl poetry magazine

Vinko Kalinić: Ne znam odgovor (Don’t know the answer)

Vinko Kalinić

Ne znam odgovor

pitaš me: zašto te volim? baš tebe? meni sasvim nepoznato biće? a ne pitaš me koliko su duboke tvoje oči? i kako može živ čovjek ne osjetiti ono što u njima gori? tako svečano. i toplo.

ne znam odgovor. tek osjećam da bi se nas dvoje jako dobro razumijeli. čak i onda kada ni riječ jednu ne bi izrekli. samo da nasloniš glavu na moje grudi. netalo bi svijeta. i svega onog što grčevito skupljaju isprazni ljudi. oko čega se tuku. i za sobom vuku, ko ukleti svoje prokletstvo.

bez ičega. i sasvim goli. stajali bi nijemo. zadivljeni. u spoznanju. koliko je malo potrebno za biti sretan. i to malo, koliko je ljepše dati, no uzeti. i tako bi nestajali. ležeći jedno drugom u sjeni. šuteći. sva bi pitanja bila besmislena. i svi odgovori uzaludni. ono između nas progutalo bi sve što smo ikad bili. i što ćemo ikada biti. što je itko ikada utjelovio u riječi. dok ne bi nestali. sasvim. jedno drugom darujući, i posljednji komadić sebe.

Komiža, 18. 04. 2011

Don’t know the answer

you ask me: why I love you? yes, you? to me absolutely unknown being? but you don’t ask me how deep are those eyes of yours? and how can a living man not feel what burns inside those eyes? so festive. and warm.

I don’t know the answer. I just feel that you and I would understand each other very well. Even when we wouldn’t say one single word. just so you lean your head on my chest. the world would disappear. and all that what futile people collect frantically. things they fight for. and drag around, like damned drag their own curse.

without anything. and totally naked. we would be standing silent. amazed. in the cognition. how little is needed to be happy. and that little, how nicer is to give than to take. and that’s how we would disappear. lying in one another’s shadow. being silent. all questions would be senseless. and all answers useless. that between us would swallow everything that we’ve ever been. and what we would ever be. what has anyone ever embodied into words. until we would disappear. totally. giving each other the last particle of himself.

Translation by Darko Kotevski, Melbourne

Vinko Kalinić poetry

kempis.nl poetry magazine

Vinko Kalinić: Pure call of the wilderness

Čisti zov divljine

Ponekad imam osjećaj da sam se odavno izgubio

na ovom svijetu i da je sve krivo postavljeno:

i imena gradova, i imena ulica, i imena ljudi,

znakovi na cesti, krsni listovi i boje na zastavama.

Da smo krive lekcije učili u udžbenicima,

i profesori da su trebali biti đaci

i učiti od nas koji smo bili djeca,

a mi da smo trebali ostati onakvi

nezainteresirani za strane svijeta,

statističke podatke o ekonomskom rastu

i kada je koja bitka vođena.

Čini mi se da bi bili pametniji

s onim osmjehom dječaka koji se

nemilosrdno ceri pred kartom Svijeta

smiještajući Afriku gdje bi trebala biti

Amerika, i Europu tamo gdje je Azija.

I mudriji da je bio naš bijeg sa školskog sata,

od dosadnih formula iz fizike i kemije.

Jer – tako je to ponekad u mojoj glavi –

čini mi se kad ljudi ništa ne bi znali

o kemijskim spojevima i zakonima fizike,

još uvijek bi živjeli u špilji

i igrali se na mame i tate.

I da bi bez Dnevnika, Interneta i dnevnog tiska

više poznavali jedni druge. I kako teku suze,

i kako grmi smijeh. I srce kako se kadikad steže

mimo svih zakona, pred stvarima o kojima ljudi

najčešće i ne razmišljaju, a o kojima u udžbeniku

nije pisalo ništa.

Ponekad stvarno imam osjećaj da sam se izgubio.

I što je lijevo, učini mi se da bi trebalo biti desno,

i što je desno, da bi trebalo biti lijevo,

i ono što je gore, da bi trebalo biti dolje,

i obratno. I sve bi tako ispremještao.

Jer čini mi se ponekad, da se ljudi

i vole i mrze po inerciji i navici.

I da čine sve samo zato jer im je netko rekao

da je dobro da to čine baš tako

kako su ih naučili da čine,

a zapravo nije, jer bi moglo i drukčije.

I svašta se meni tako čini, i pričinja,

ponekad i predskazuje, pa stvarno bude onako

kao u tom predskazanju, a ne onako kako su nam rekli.

Čudne me misli spopadaju. Što sam stariji, sve to više.

I ponekad mi bude pravo žao što nikada nisam živio u špilji,

bez frižidera, mikrovalne i daljinskog upravljača.

Zamisli da svako jutro iznova moraš kresati kamen o kamen

da bi zapalio vatru, ganjati divlju svinju ili loviti ribu?

Kakve bi ti se onda misli vrzmale po glavi, i bi li tvoje ruke

imale isti osjećaj za stvari?

Dobro! – Priznajem, bilo bi to naporno. Ovako je mnogo lakše.

No, što je s osjećajem za stvari? Je li i naša glad ista

kao i ona prva? I ona vatra, kao ova mikrovalna? Grokće li ova

pitoma svinja kao i ona divlja? Ili smo se svi izgubili

među svim tim zemljama, jezicima, kulturama, tehničkim

i mentalnim pomagalima? I je li ono bilo divlje samo zato

što su nas razmazili, ili smo mi divlji kojima nije bila dovoljna

riba za ručak, pa smo sagradili brod, pa tvornicu, pa…

nacrtali Europu, Ameriku, Aziju…

– Da mi je ući u tvoju glavu, mislim da bi se osjećala ko Alisa

u zemlji čudesa! – tako mi reče jednom sestra.

I nije bila daleko!

Na ovoj planeti čudesa, da te nema,

Ljubavi moja, ne znam kud bih krenuo.

Niti što bih uopće radio?

O tome razmišljam dok gledam tvoje lice.

O kojem mi nitko nije rekao ništa,

a na kojem je zapisano ama baš sve

što je važno.

Čisti zov divljine.

Vinko Kalinić

Pure call of the wilderness

Some-time I have a feeling that I’ve lost myself a long time ago

on this world and that everything is being wrongly set:

towns names, streets names and peoples names,

signs on the roads, birth certificates and the colours of flags.

That we learned wrong subjects from the textbooks,

and that professors had to be the students

and learn from us who were the children,

and that we should have stayed in

disinterested states for the sides of the world,

for statistical data on economic growth

and when was what battle fought.

It seems to me that we would have been smarter

with that smile of the boy who

relentlessly grins in front of a world map

placing Africa where should be

America, and Europe where Asia is.

And also, if the wagging school was wiser,

than boring formulas of Physics and Chemistry.

Whereas – it’s like that sometimes in my head –

it seems to me when people wouldn’t know

anything about chemical compounds and the laws of physics,

they would still be living in the cave

and they would still be playing mums and dads.

And that without the TV news, internet and daily newspapers

they would better get to know each other. And how tears drop,

and how laughter thunder. And also how the heart sometimes squirm

past all laws, in front of things people

most often don’t think, things that

never existed in the textbooks.

Sometimes I really feel that I’ve lost myself.

And what is left, it seems to me that should be right,

and what is right, that it should be left,

and what is up, that should be down,

and vice versa. And so, I would mix up all of that.

Because it seems to me sometimes, that people

love and hate each other by inertia and habit.

And that they do everything just because someone told them

it was good to do just that

as they taught them to do,

but actually is not, because it could be otherwise.

And everything methinks so, and vice,

and sometimes predicts, and really it is exactly

as in that prophecy, and not the way they told us.

Strange thoughts seize upon me. As I got older even more.

And sometimes I’d be really sorry that I have never lived in a cave,

without refrigerator, microwave and remote control.

Imagine that every morning you have to strike the stones together

to light a fire, chase the wild boar or catch a fish?

What thoughts would you then be having in your head, and whether your hands

would have the same sense for things?

Well, OK! – I admit, it would be hard. Thus it is much easier.

But what about the sense of things? Is our hunger the same

as it was the hunger before? And that fire, is it the same as this microwave one?

Does the domestic pig grunt the same as the wild one? Or we all have got lost

among all these countries, languages, cultures, technical

and mental aid tools? And whether that was wild just because

we were spoiled, and we are wild, we who didn’t have enough

just fish for lunch, so we built a ship and factory, and so…

we just drew Europe, America, Asia…

– If I could get into your head, I think I would have felt like Alice

in Wonderland! – my sister once said to me.

And she wasn’t too far from the truth!

On this planet of wonders, if you were not here,

My love, I do not know where I would go.

Nor what would I do, anyway?

I think about it when I look at your face.

Face nobody told me anything about,

and on which is written absolutely everything

that is important.

Pure call of the wilderness

Vinko Kalinić

Translation by Darko Kotevski, Melbourne, Australia

Vinko Kalinić was born 1974 in Split, Croatia. He is a writer, journalist and human rights activist. He lives on the island of Vis. He is the editor of the internet portal My island of Vis, which is dedicated to life on the island and the Mediterranean culture. Also on facebook Vinko Kalinić daily writes his poetic diary, which tracks more than 2 300 fans.

Vinko Kalinić poetry

kempis.nl poetry magazine

Fleurs du Mal Magazine

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Kalinić, Vinko

Vinko Kalinić: Pola pjesme (Half a song)

Vinko Kalinić: Ne znam odgovor (Don’t know the answer)

Vinko Kalinić: Pure call of the wilderness