ĐORĐE BRUJIĆThe fire. The poemThis ancient households it's not the words only.This ancient knowledge it's not our true perfomanceand his flame could costs us too much,its coals when signed the game,her passion to reassure us, inspite serenity -the ruler of this precious moment.Flaming blades caught in a great direction,agree to their lowest excitations,in his own vileness, and empti ...
ĐORĐE BRUJIĆThe fire. The poem
This ancient households it's not the words only.
This ancient knowledge it's not our true perfomance
and his flame could costs us too much,
its coals when signed the game,
her passion to reassure us, inspite serenity -
the ruler of this precious moment.
Flaming blades caught in a great direction,
agree to their lowest excitations,
in his own vileness, and emptiness.
That's a brightness capable to cover ourself,
that's a edge which surrounds us, from time to time
got alive even itself, even the fire.
And the fire, as the flame itself.
The word and meAll I am giving isn't mine
All it touches
All touches me
All with anything we are in contact
Islands and reefs, trails of foam
Of a roughs steps;
And Cordoba:
Such the Spanish arena
And hers Spanish freedom,
Conceived in connection lace
Are my words skills or loneliness?
Are my words loneliness of a buried wholeness?
I'm speaking, inspite far away of myself
So far away from his senses;
And anything:
Anything like an equal sign
Between me and the word
Serbe:Jabuka. SunceVeć odavno je vatra postala
plamena komercijalna riječ:
Ime za sudbinu, za čovjeka, siluete,
jabuku,
sunce.
Nametnutom se prošlošću izdržavamo
pa variramo jednu te istu sliku,
jedno te isto iskustvo.
Iskustvo boje, sna, dubine...
Noći;
Iskustvo jedne noći,
jednog sebe,
topline.
Français : La pomme. Le soleilDepuis fort longtemps le feu est devenu
Un flamboyant mot commercial :
Le nom du destin, de l’homme, silhouette
De la pomme.
Et le soleil.
Portant en nous le passé lointain,
Nous composons des variations
A partir d’une image,
D’une même expérience de l’art.
L’art de la couleur, du rêve, de la profondeur...
Nuit.
L’art d'une nuit,
Et sa chaleur
En moi.
Djordje BrujiċAnglais :The apple. The sunStill a long time ago the fire becomed
a flamed commercial word:
the name of the fate, man, silhouette,
fot the apple.
And sun.
In the distant past we rephrase a picture,
the show of a picture as always the same expirience.
Expirience of teh colour, dream, depth...
Night;
Expirience of one night,
and its heat of myself.
Djordje Brujiċbiografia:
Djordje Brujiċ
Đođe Brujić was born in Karlovac 1967. He published books of poetry: «New desperate days», «Fear of forests», «Instruction for trevels», «House on ice» and selection of «Contemporary poetry of Serbian Krajina». He lives in Podgorica.
djbrujic@gmail.com
English 
Spanish
