Mladen Lompar: A night from lapidarium
| TABULA RASA we had peace a thought for obedience the beloved ones whom we could not kiss and an intention to bear all that but then we began to disappear the first one we dragged from the waves and carried with our backs to the sun (our shadows were the same) the second one burned himself, shouting: history is ash while the others were skillfully murdered and buried with honours (no one reads them any more) so many were destroyed according to certain ancient laws by pulling out of their tongues their noses by blindness (and they still live in a hope that it is not life) the worst fate was reserved for us alone on the stage in several hollow acts accompanied by clouds and rhythm of the rain the wearied-off bodies wriggled along with the remnants of consciousness it was then that the words fell and the words were heard: tabula rasa... while so many other things remain. (1984) * * * we were not accepted by harbour nor by the open seas and there have been better deaths on earth those that are pronounced easily as if they do not mean the end (1990) THE SONG OF ABBOT DOLCHIN it was here that the scars were made as well as the beginning of eternity here my lady black traces of your light remained and you loathe me you know God created sin first (how else the saints would come into being) then the need for it and dreams it was then that we came to please God I prayed not to want you with my torn spirit and clung to the slippery sides of the pool you were unworthy of my fall you did not choose the right sin for eternity or the right way to look at the red dog rose and to find joy in it to find delight in the clouds and rain you did not see how the sun enjoys in embracing your naked body appearing from the sea you did not know how to look around to glance at the cypresses or at the blinded window of the monk's cell to be made happy by a single heavy look falling from under the lowered hood upon your shameless weariness you resided even in the monastery gloom far from Bodin's unfurled flags and all the greediness for the last time my queen while I was kneeling before an illusion of your figure smooth and wet like a pebble from the sea while I was looking for a tremble in the shadow of the eyes sensing the softness of lips and the warmth of the meals of Dukljan princes while in saintly elevation I waited for the spasm to stiffen that charm somewhere out of its magnificence a snake sneaked out and slithering down the soft relief defined the space of my powerlessness outside the abbey the benedictines collected shells and sea fruit and the voices were heard in the field while you kept on lying on the sea sand alone so I decided my lady to leave you slowly to sink into the chill of a giant bird on a rock in the sea now that everything is so final and pointless but still you had forgiveness for everything and you will go on being my victim it does not matter anymore whether you needed him and whether the borders of sin narrowed by selfishness were wide enough for you (1995) A NIGHT FROM LAPIDARIUM 1. under the cypresses the remnants of carvers' caresses from fortresses and tombstones from baptisteries from portals and altar decorations the stones so important so huge but heavy for the soul and there is no this time or any other into whose foundations I look there upon a tombstone (the end of the world and a symbol of absurdity) a broken name like a messenger shot down with his message abruptly stopped and the image I discern - the line and three unequal stars above and the destroyed letters of seven verses I can sense nothing but the last word - NIGHT at the end of the seven lines of life a prayer for the accidental devotees for a look and whisper or silence 2. messages made to be explored by touching concave letters and decorations of bitterness the fingers slide mingling with the stoned caresses of those who never came anywhere is this really your will my God what was sinful in those inscriptions and visions over the dust and emptiness and unbelievably clear purpose only words share your power my God but in vain I search for them gathering a name out of their bones on the parts of stone decorations in this horrible silence among butterflies and laurels 3. disappeared in light testamentary houses and symbols silence of eternity inhabited by butterflies and fireflies and the sigh of the one who does not find redemption in this horrible godly sin HOW TO SURVIVE BYZANTIUM how to survive Byzantium she was saying trembling waiting for us to ask but we were silent slowly like snakes they sneak into our words and we are victims again - she went on saying her words were asking for silence and for a moment of reason but really, how to survive Byzantium purple rooms and tzarist crimes blind leaders unbearable judgements follies of escape longings for other people's light a blade upon the Virgin's face a knife in Jesus' chest a flame for the icons for the prayers and admiration we float over Byzantium an island and a chapel on the graveyard and snakes between the bones and eternity and saints for whose holiness there are no believers shrubs and roses gone wild crosses without inscriptions neglected corpses in the harbour that does not even wait for the sails upon the horizon (every life fears such death) and the wrecks float on the sea flowers of magnolia and the books that have never been opened churches sometimes do direct thoughts towards endless time towards the smell of incense towards abundance of apparitions and permanence here and there even God is preserved in the monks' trembling rites but that spacious flow carries everything before it exuding loathsome legacy but really how to get over Byzantium leave it to dust and admiration when here only the past has no end LOVES OF HARLOTS we have been alone for so long to be able to think of love and we have searched through shameful landscapes and disgraceful places then we would fall into mystical shame as if we were killing testamentary being and those nevertheless were loves WHILE WE WERE WAITING FOR THE SAME FATE to Pavle Goranovic the gulls' cries over the cove raged within us like slaves tearing everything apart to the marrow while we were waiting for the same fate we had nothing to put at stakes your duty was to love I heard that on my way here I did not fulfill it and everything tuned into boredom - cast off your slough perchance it will enchant the one who comes up its sound by chance before putting out to sea the ship gave voice with the aged siren then it was destroyed into pieces we vied for the dead bodies while bloody water was filling our mouths in the cries left over we could still recognize life and we did not think of our friends through whose insides and bodily parts we floated we who were offering sea foam to the world (there were no words any more to name our misery) THE HEREAFTER REMAINS I have no right to that love (and there will be no other) sometimes I pass down the boulevard and through cedar leaves I see her leaning upon the window sill the time did not take away my words those that I did not have to utter and what I did not want to remember - I say the judgement was passed but the sin remains like spite the hereafter remains a rebellion and the question about the meaning of the past which now like somebody else's cry we can quietly measure up there remains I say what is left after the end of the story about the fallen masts and broken oars a tremble which says that all is over and that there was the end but still something remains nevertheless she is waiting for a sail in sight for one particular wave and for a different world and for me to pass Translated by: Zoran Paunović |
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