THE RIJEKA WOMEN IN SENEGAL

Poem By Milorad Stojević

(at the 1756 Expo)



There were few Rijeka women in Senegal,
The sky's blue blued them on the out-voyage then,
until return the arrows given and the grail
- oars milled into shadows, Thebes of the black men.

Few of them returned, half were plague-ridden -
Half were cicatrised by cotton thread -
by ancient melted seals, one bidden
by milky privates, by a tormented head.

There were few Rijeka women in Senegal.
Few of them returned, half were plague-ridden.
In quarantine they handed them over to Baal -
fed them on snakes, grieved them with scorn unhidden.

Fired them with fires, through the mirror listening,
wherein a child is squirming, as in eyes a-glistening.

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Other poems of STOJEVIĆ

ROSA VAGINA

(s pripjevom nina-nana)



U puni sat okrugli disk Mjeseca siše
snježnu dječju mokraću i zlatne embrione prhkih djevica:
svježa humka pederpolisa i zupčast i oštar jezik
pizdolizaca lelujaju dok rosa hermetica urla
sitnoj, bijeloj, hladnoj vodenoj djeci:
Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina-nana!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Najednom iz tvojeg vrata od mekog stakla oči kaplju
na bradavicu dojke i tučak mliječnog cvijeta tvoje sestrice
koja u štali hrani jegulje i koptske žirafe:
Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina-nana!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

O Ahura-Mazdo, Bijeli Gospodaru, izloži mrtvi grad
na "tornjeve šutnje", neka ga svete ptice Ormuzde prožderu.

Mrtvački obrazi brčkaju se i dišu u mramornim bazenima
alpskog mlijeka, tvrdnu i čupaju dlake, piju ptičja muda,
a vonj jaraca udara s morem o Kvarner:
tvoja sestrica Janko Poliću okreće svoju musavu glavu
jadranskim tritonima i aligatorima, dok dolje! pogledaj!.
Nina-nana! Nina-nana!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Usamljena ostaje rosa vagina, rastresenih slanih latica,
s glavom čeličnog leptira rascijepanom osmijehom i
rojevima bumbara nina-nana-nina-nana-nina nana-nina.
U vrtu čoje i blitve, u grmu rajčice dahće
Krist u skafanderu, držeći u slobodnoj ruci preglasoviti
kamen iz Cromwelova mjehura nina-nana-nina-nana-nina-nana.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina-nana! Nina!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

balastu fauna i čegrtanju lanca s podmornice
jeguljci krpe prpu i jal čvorova na suhu,
maljeve milja i kamenjarke pod banderama i perikama
visci i libele gube smisao i cilj - pucaju u krugu. Nina!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nana!

ROSA VAGINA

(with refrain Lulla-lullay)



On the hour the round disk of the Moon sucks
the snowy baby piddle and golden embryos of crispy virgins:
the fresh mound of gay-polis and saw-toothed and sharp tongue
of muff divers sway while rosa hermetica howls
at the tiny, white, cold water children:
Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Suddenly from your neck of delicate glass eyes drip down
onto the breast's nipple and your little sister's milk-flower pistil
who feeds eels and Coptic giraffes in a barn:
Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Oh Ahura Mazda, White Master, expose the dead city
on the "towers of silence", let the holy birds of Ormuzd devour it.

Cadaverous cheeks splash and respire in marble swimming pools
full of alpine milk, pluck hardened hairs, drink bird balls
and the stench of billy goats and the sea strike at the Kvarner shore:
Janko Polić, your kid sister turns her slobbery face
to the tritons and alligators of the Adriatic, while down there! look!
Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rosa Vagina is left forlorn, with strewn salty petals
and the head of a steel butterfly dissevered by a smile and
swarms of bumblebees lulla-lullay-lulla-lullay-lulla lullay-lulla.
In a garden of tweed and spring greens a panting
Christ in a space suit holds in his free hand the much too famous
stone from Cromwell's bladder lulla-lullay-lulla-lullay-lulla-lullay.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla-lullay! Lulla!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

the ballast of fauna and rattle of submarine chains
baby eels patching up the crumples and envy of stranded knots,
fuzz of delight and hustlers under streetlights and wigs
plumb lines and spirit levels lose sense and meaning - shooting in circles. Lulla!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lullay!

RIJEČKE ŽENE U SENEGALU

(na sajmu 1756. godine)



Malo je riječkih žena bilo u Senegalu.
Do tamo ih je plâvilo plavetnilo neba,
do natrag strelice date njima i graalu
- vesla samljevena u sjene, crnačka Teba.

Malo ih se i vratilo, napola s kugom -
napola tetovirane vlaknima pamuka -
rastopljenim starim pečatima, slugom
mliječna spolovila, umom u kome je muka.

Malo je riječkih žena bilo u Senegalu.
Malo ih se i vratilo, napola s kugom.
U lazaretima su ih podavali Baalu -
hranili zmijama, plašili tugom i rugom.

Vatrili ih vatrom, slušali kroz zrcalo,
u kome se, k'o u očima, dijete - koprcalo.

RUŠENJE ORFIČKOG HRAMA

Malo je željeza i mašte
u vjetrovitim hodnicima.
Od njih je nastao pokrivač kiše.
Kažu. Tko to govori taj sigurno nema
svoju glavu, ili se smrznuo prije nego je
sadržaj misterija bio završen.
Žrtve se sklanjaju u drveće i maglu.
Veli mi glas: Čuvaj se otrovnih
stvorova, imaju odoru ljudi ali
žive od snage posvađanih bogova.
U zemlji grobova pjevaju se sibile i
nitko neće pričati o poeziji,
nitko o njenoj ekonomiji izraza.

Mramor i spirale neće biti supstance,
rublje još manje. Mogao si blagovati
noću, reče kroz grkljan mag koji se
prerušio u strah a njegova bolesna
koljena cvile: Misliš da se
razlikuješ među priviđenjima?
Rekoh: Zmija dolazi piti tvoju
a ne moju sjenu, ali on to poreče
kao da ližem svoj jezik od balzama.

Himere će me ubiti.
Vene su staklene.

THE WRECK OF THE ORPHIC TEMPLE

There is little iron and imagination
in the windy corridors.
They have spawned a cover of rain.
They say. Such a speaker
surely lost his head, or froze before
the mysteries had run their course.
Sacrifices take refuge in woods and fog.
A voice tells me: Beware of venomous
creatures, they are clothed like men
but feed on the strength of gods in strife.
The Sibyls are sung in a country of graves
and none will speak of poetry,
of its economy of expression.

The marble and spirals will not be substances,
still less linen. You might have dined
by night, croaked the magus, tricked out as fear,
and his painful knees protested: You think
you differ from the apparitions?
I said: The serpent is on its way
to drink your shadow, not mine, but he
will have none of it, as though
I lick my balsamed tongue.

Chimaeras will kill me.
The veins are glass.