TRICKELING OF ETERNITYA sweet spirit sentenced to trickle away The boat of past in the ship of futureThi hill of medow on the other sideWater to oneselfWhy with waterDo not the centuries ask the same questionThe models of the centuries in the centuries in the model of a riverThe same time keeps playing against the SunThe past of the future is a slash on water The begining in the name of the endTwo ...
TRICKELING OF ETERNITY
A sweet spirit sentenced to trickle away The boat of past in the ship of future Thi hill of medow on the other side Water to oneself Why with water Do not the centuries ask the same question The models of the centuries in the centuries in the model of a river
The same time keeps playing against the Sun The past of the future is a slash on water The begining in the name of the end
Two friends are sitting on a river bank Shelling the grains of the mutual shadow throwing it into water May be they are not friends But are merely referred to each other
If the water circling they think water is quite indifferent to the reason why Does time trickle
THE CHARRIOT OF THE SUN
Between the tones that I hear is gentleness In the eyes of a naive child or A child in the charriot of the Sun When the east running behind the earth\'s hemisphere enlightens us Like in the earlier experiences of music which is not space although it inhabits it which is expressed by silence and is not a memory which hears the unread and sees the speech Or In the tones of the Sun the charriot behind it a child in it before them the east An inspiration of daily events Unbraids the tresses into the musical scale A raven on the scale plucking its plumes wets them with ink Writes down the notes of the same endurance lower and lower deeper and deeper quieter and quieter
A cheerful child climbs onto the charriot saddles the sides of the world Beetween the east and the estuary is lament not music
An old man steps out from the charriot
1 JUGOVO
Bunches of autumn are in my vineyard They dive from the skies ripened with memories Seriousness of sight is mirrored in the river\'s inconsistency The east of an evening crawls towards the west
My mother measures the paths in my vineyard My father makes golden sugar of hope in his veins The wind fliks through incidental book leaves A hanging bridge made of letters Relaxes against their heads
A drunkard from birth believes in steps The hymn of grape bunches enters the veins of singers Sands breathes out the pores of time through high vaults The cheeks of autumn touch my shoulders The sword of clouds taken against the friendship of lightning
Persuadeded by the day the evening falls Through the crowns of trees and the smoke of moss Muteness is all that is said by silence When there is no merriment the song is vain
1 An area on the way from Belgrade to Smederevo, famous for its vineyards and orchards
biografia:
Tomislav Stevanovic was born in Smederevo in 1948. Both his parents were teachers. The Author is curently Director of the Historical Archives of the city of Smederevo. He has published following books: Family Tree Gallows, The forest of My Mind, Victoria [a long poem], Light Wall, New Calendar, Slash on Water, Hymn of Destiny, Sand for the yes, The Bridge above the Gallows and Why Smederevo.