first letter
first
Mrs. Vineta, yesterday I again tried to hang himself, and after
I gave up again. All night long I looked
-eyed at the ceiling and one
loved another woman. I remember one phrase from Dickens.
Beginning a Dombijevog letter: - My precious
I am a dog .-
Now you know what I am. A nice I told you: do not leave me alone
, I am inclined glumatanju,
real theater from scratch, and so you get into it, that after
go around, looking for audience, and all public
showing. Do not be surprised if I start
themselves to plakatiram.
morning, I saw through the window of heaven. It is quite resembled
the blue beef cooked over skewered
fork over the tower of a castle.
just did not see the clouds. Surely the wind blew
overnight to the south and escaped. The wind has
taste of the country and incense, and I do not want to give you a lot about
speak. To follow Lao Tzu.
He says
- Nature speak with few words. Because hurricane
not last all morning and the rain does not fall all day. -
Only if you're interested in to the Birds. Birds are one
that I told you to live down
the swamps, I just forgot again what they are called.
These birds have come bend of the river, north of
Fisherman Islands, north to the rocky area.
And so it all began.
second
himself in the defense I would have to give it a weekly
afternoon in an apartment that I shared with you
eight years. Three walls, and instead of the fourth:
large window that overlooks the river and the bridge trains rumbling.
Three hundred meters to the left, on the coast, is a place where
once, in his solitary walks,
Einstein came to talk to himself, in
vremia when he was a young son in Marićevih.
Infeld said to him: - It is believed that we see today really
three-quarters of the universe that Einstein
covered only thoughts and equations. -
Understand the architecture of the universe, first of all, and that there
under my windows, while I remain persistent and mindless
stammers friends in the pub,
same forever friends, forever in the same cafes,
eternally the same lines, certain that every day I say
something new - so it must once and concern.
Then came the Sunday afternoon, when the soldiers helpless
lenčare in cinema lobbies or
sweatshops. When the girls from the periphery
out for a walk in the same robes, and all say that
sisters. When a couple of old women waiting in front of churches
evening and smells of basil
and suburban cemetery.
came to. Someone from the boredom of inventing a new war, one of
boredom invent adultery, one out of boredom
a mom, someone from the boredom of a Mozart, somebody TB.
I arrived to ancient India, fairly jumped Sciences
and find myself in - Ken-Upanishads - a place I was reminded
LXXI singing in - Tao Te King -.
- I do not think I know it well, but I know not who knows me is
-. I really do not think you well know
, but we are not unknown. Let, therefore,
to spit in the direction of that city where you left me
you wait.
should be devoted three years of life drawing
maps. On each card intentionally omitted
the city. Otherwise it does not already perfect.
PS If that means anything, it you ask for forgiveness.
After all, you is already better than I can
look and give some things right measure.
good night to your liking again iziđemo among the people.
I do not know how. I always came to the market place.
good night your tears. Your former
walking on toes when I sleep.
That was many millions of years. I immensely appreciate all the efforts
that we pour lead in
feet, as those dolls made of rubber, which is always
uspravljajau.
second letter
first
Mrs. Vineta, it is strange here. We traveled through
Brogejlove images, or through that fable about Ribecalu.
I can not explain. Something like my
childhood. Unbelievable.
At dawn, before us appeared the city. As in children's picture books
. One house yellow. To it, Olive.
and white or terracotta. I listed the purple
no more than five.
Imagine me a cut of pastries stock
and pasted somewhere. Thus, all the plots.
I lost dimension.
breakfast We have grapes in the market. After we washed the gutters
wipes and wiped his hands and mouth.
In the hotel floors called the color. Boris anywhere
can not find.
I, in fact, I do not know who is Boris, but I dreamed about when I
sleepyhead on the train to here could be such a
and which should be found. He would show us
tunnels. Or to show us where
has many steps.
It resembles with Boris Zagorsk. Krešo Golik and me.
night before Easter. Let the rain mixed with snow.
Will we see resurrection and Patriarch
Pimen. It is, in fact, the fortress. Around the walls
raised during the Mongol invasion. A mass scenes - that
crazy and Kavalerović and Cecil B. De Mil.
Zagorsk the Russians as the French Lourdes.
from all over the country come for Easter to be healed. Well
when it began at midnight: untied bells, thirty thousand believers
metaniše face and move out of sight in the mud, clouds of incense
, gold and black rice,
diamonds and wooden crosses ...
I have gone to some high ground to see better.
Crash tells me after I get off, I stand at the tomb of Boris Godunov
. And where do I stand when
all history?
Gifts is a dead king, and promise, if I get
son, to become godparents: The name is Boris.
I explain to a girl. Probably should,
say, to start here a son.
She would prefer to take her in April Zagorsk.
Am I really there? Right. I am,
who knows how many times and who knows where, but he lived.
second
Have I lived in Paris? Have I been in New York?
Washington? Baghdad? Riga? Sydney?
everywhere I was, I say, because we're everywhere were,
we just forgot it.
I forgot, for example, Forty-fifth street, just behind
Broadway, where I saw on the asphalt,
around my legs, dying a hundred drug addicts and nobody
will not help them.
Jurmala. The entire coast of the Baltic. Or, over in Sweden,
Västerås. Stockholm. Gothenburg. Malmo.
screwed over by ferry to Copenhagen. From there, six times
across the Atlantic. The museum space in Washington
I had lunch with Michael Collins. He told me that the universe
look ridiculous. As
mold. In New Orlinzu we Slavko Vukosavljević
and I dined with Tennessee Williams.
All I had, I say. Centuries. Eons. I was up
the light and came back. I tell her about Babylon
Stesefonu, Al Kurn. I actually ate an apple with Adam
wood in the area where they meet
Tigris and Euphrates and the Shatt al Arab are.
Angarika Lama Govinda says in the foreword to the Tibetan Book of the Dead
: - There is no no person,
fact, no living being who has not returned from death ...
What we call birth, just the opposite side
death as one of the two sides
medals, or gate called: input from the outside, or
: Output from the inside. -
To write in her report cards, and claimed instead that
ID. Strange is the earthly love,
I told her. It seems everything is, however, only in the recognition.
not I, and through this city going once, in the caravan
a different humanity? Also there is smoke on the water
Tromostovlju. The same hazel havoc over distances.
same pain I smell in his nostrils and in my memory. Fully
clearly, here, I say it with their skin.
All acts so as to age in the future. I
old in the past. In all directions of time.
This is my proof that I'm superhuman, with some
other side of the same, but one stayed here
descending from the stars.
third
Mrs. Vineta, the first time I think I'll be quite
rest. For example: an hour. Does me more
not peck back of the head.
girl was invented to put my vetrovka wrong,
to play with me Baba and that scares me.
Then his shoes shoes and walk on his toes, not to be small.
usually sits on the floor and plays with her fingers. And when
laugh, come to me rastršavi hair, that I
climb on the shoulders and around the cici
nostrils and eyes. I've never spent meaningless life.
never write stupid lyrics. I've never had in my head
shallow thoughts.
four times went out of the hotel and back up. Finally,
she sits on the edge of the bed and crying: asks: What is
well and why I am eternally even as a country.
Since I have no other explanation, I tell her everything
bluntly. They have been, say, found a perfect
hungry dogs and one extremely distressed
swallow, they say im a little lime and cotton,
all that close to the skin, print a birth certificate,
and declare that I am.
After the, say, lime cotton mauled by a dog ate
swallow. Now the dog bite and lime. Then she went down
to the restaurant, bring milk and says now we
to feed.
's raining outside. And as has already come down a bit
evening, we lit all my cigarettes and its
pockets and luggage, poslagali them on the furniture and
say that they are stars.
Then we went out again. The hotel buffet
one guy was sitting facing the wall, sometimes Kuckau
fingers on his forehead and asked: hello, is anyone here whom? Menu is
said over sips: Why do you constantly hitting me, brother?
For these always have one ready by Vladimir Ilyich
. Lenin said, "I said, do not caress
per capita, uješće your arm.
Then he began to cry: why did two days earlier
humanity will not tell you to hit me?
Why not saying wait for you on Friday at
this and that, around the corner. Keep the left side, face and heart.
I want to be ready, I can defend myself.
girl, meanwhile, drank, and their fanta
and my drink twice. I do not like women to drink.
I had to wear at the hotel. Passers
I showed what the Her arms and ears. I spoke
: it has at least the hands and ears in Europe.
do not know when we returned home, painted floors.
third letter
first
Mrs. Vineta, is this that I may tell you, so you never again will I write
. You'll see. Do you remember the guy
that I told you to dream on that island or beach
. What was drowned and constantly
me, just drowned, imitate when I sleep.
Again I dreamed it and we cleared it.
He vowed: never again.
few data to anything you do not oblige:
girls stand up in a dream, backs to the wall and so
hours standing in the bed. Awake. I admitted to her that we
it looks very strange.
explained that the best way to think. After all, she said,
read somewhere that a writer
world all his works written while standing. I tried
that I write something standing, but in bed is
it below my dignity.
Teram to talk nice about you. You are here calling:
they know Ms.. Affects to secretly drink
because some grief about you, and for breakfast
usually drink my first cup of each.
Tonight, while the locked door, in the eyes of her
video prayer that they know Ms. remain in
corridor behind the door. One day it would have
become unbearable.
After all, I'm jealous. All for her
turn, as one summer when you showed me the
Korcula, where I was to visit one of my deceased sailor
year. And Porto Pidočo. I lied
you that we will live when we have a lot of money
. Never will we have a lot of money.
second
guys who are sick a year when the company
beautiful women. I hide my beautiful wife. I say to a girl:
that look at you, it's like groping and
hands, and ask you to očetkaš coat, wash your hair
and to intervene.
I made it four in a restaurant scene. Here
restaurants have something old-fashioned, at least those that I come across
. I have heard of the cafe. In itself
continuously, while sipping, mumbling Strauss.
Imagine, she says she does not like Russian romances. When I told her
pevušio - nothing. Shrugged and said:
not stand Russian. She was too soft.
Then the whole morning I spoke only Russian.
I started with a block, shouting to the Mayakovsky
everyone uncomfortable, and languid with Yesenin.
I ordered her to begin to learn Russian.
He made an excuse to have people surrounding tables and
twelve onwards, I spoke only English, but I
all words perverted and lied to the American
to slang. I gave her a lecture about seventeen
slang. They asked us to come out of pubs.
on the street, we had a fight, then we have long loved
and it was clear that I love. Therefore I think that you
I will never write. After all, is not it better that way.
When you die, I will make you a wonderful monument to write:
she suffered me.
There is a poem for children, Prevert, who says:
- Giraffes sing, but as silent as giraffes, song
remains in their minds. - So it is with me. Maybe I'll
and speak some words, but as I
for you from now silent, the letter will remain in
my head.
fourth letter
first
Mrs. Vineta, all that I have, till recently wrote
not take seriously. I give up and shout
you are unique.
Finding you even in the grass. It's there, left
of the bridge, in a bistro that is visited
Prešern. I picked herbs to make a salad, but I could
. I was breathing. She had the smell of your hair
.
all night I wandered around the station, and was shown the trains
which come and go. I had enough time
to calmly think about everything. Madam, I am in love with you
incurable.
I'm going to pack things and come back. The key you have.
address you know. We find, therefore, not in Belgrade,
than in Novi Sad. Before that I have a girl
to return to Zagreb. Drago Britvić
and Marjan Selman popeci up - under the old roofs -.
With krlec and Dobriše usually walked to the cemetery.
All in all, it's two days.
two of them I hold literary meetings.
I speak a little of their, their little, little people's poetry.
I start singing - Mirogoj - Jiri Volker.
Empress especially likes the place:
- Roots can catch the sun to flower. Why is
killed dead will learn from life. For King,
for the country, for all it can to fight the world,
but we can not all die. -
I like the end of the walk. What comes Tinov:
- Fear not, you're not alone. . . - The first and largest aerospace
song on the World, and for forgiveness
going, with the obligatory sit in a pub,
- Silver Road -.
Mrs. Vineta, just need to have
several children, and you'll see: it will be all good.
Somewhere I'll borrow the money, I'll buy wood and coal, and
entire winter will be warm.
second
You are my wife, and do not even think about
'll go again. Remember how I, as a bird,
seven winters ago was sitting on a tree in front of your
hospital window. It was snowing. And I sat for hours
.
Remember that time I had no gloves, no
warm clothes. Then we were starting something, and gloves and warm clothing
we just had in my head.
I keep the letters I wrote to you on that tree.
I showed them Palavestra. He picked one,
said to the song, and put it in his anthology.
After I found it in the Polish anthology
Zygmunt Stoberskog.
few years later I met Stoberskog. He came
on Sterijino pozorje. Beautiful, sleek
man, but above all: Pole. He was sincerely disappointed
my appearance. Be sure you have said, let
mustache. Who saw the poet without a mustache.
How to explain to him that I had a mustache
to shave at the age of eighteen? Then we Bihalji
published one poem in the magazine - Yugoslavia -.
representative. Paper as one in which the
print icon. Translation in four languages. Otto Bihalji
Merin is frankly was disappointed with my looks.
sure you have said, shaved his mustache. Not
European, let alone the world, and this magazine goes to
worldwide. He pulled from his pocket money and I personally took the
first barbershop. Calm down, dear,
then tapped me on the arm, because I was genuinely unhappy.
Get away from primitivism.
turned out to be great confusion with this letter, and you well know
I have not entered into any of your books,
and that I have it sometimes when I have been incredibly important
, copied and sent it to you again and always
again.
This is what we call: The Ballad of us.
third
- If you go, gray-foot wide urban sky
zgaziće my unruly head and diffuse pavements.
head explode on the pole and all I lung izjecati and
izjaukati. Pokidaću shirt and leather with a breast nails,
which are now dark and abandoned as the leaves of the
edges slowly begins to rot.
For all of you like. The taste of your blood will sell
boys, with blackberries, the dark, in the corners of these streets.
Razlivena warmth in your bed tier nodes
nurses at the hospital. Dezinfikovaće
meaning of your smile on the glass from which you drank drugs.
newspapers will delete the words that you spoke to me through the glass window
. And all will be reduced to brutal.
If you go, ponećeš me, and myself will leave the
forms of my dream and reality, to be pitied or
nepoznavati people passing by.
All I
home and beat the tar denigrate those who do not know how to
wailing when they mention your name. For a lie
stories about new meetings, lie all the memories and visits to relatives
Sunday afternoon. Never again will we find
.
I'll stay under the drill lamps from the ceiling from which we will
reality first twist in the head.
And all good with you will die.
And each spring the roofs long cry tears
okopnelog snow. -
4th
There's another reason, very private, the song I
published in a collection. Sometimes fall in love with her
a metaphor, as in the case of a wide
foot gray city sky stomping my unruly head
and spills on pavements.
More at sixteen, I wrote a song - Sunday - in which literally stands
: - The sky is big gray
foot ran over rooftops, the people and roads. - Rather
I gave up both songs, but to reiterate the metaphor.
Anyway, I hope you understand in what I
position. Just me, please, do not report anything
of your headaches. I kept pulling them to the conscience, and if
reminds me of it, I'll run away again.
This leads to my madness.
I'm going to pack things. This is an afternoon train. When you'll
be early in the morning. Girl I
in Zagreb at the station to explain everything openly. With
Marjan and dear can be drunk the second time.
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