'Two nomads searching for pearl oysters in the wetlands on a starless night' circle of poems by Nikola Kitanovic from his book 'The Beast'
Nikola Kitanovic - his poems page. Nikola is modern, postmodern and after-postmodern poet. He have ten published books of poems. His book The Chemistry of Verbs was published in English language in US
I
I cannot write
You cannot read
We resort to hunting
Targeting rains
The city fogs
The power of passing
through the oak bark
The cracked roads
How far we manage
In this wordless tune
In this soul bounded by spaces
Is up to you
Is up to me
Whoever
II
The spirit of the space
Is a cherry petal
In blossom
He lets the angel’s wings
But then in time he fades
Falls down to the ground
At first like a feather
Like crumpled paper at
last
My mother gave birth to me
She fed me for the first
time
Gave me the first lessons
for the fight
The words of her ancestors
Spill over to my soul
On the lean soil
Like a crumbled piece of
paper
I did not know
Where to go
Who to learn from
I wanted to blossom
In the mud
III
I am taking down and
stammering
The words stepped over
The sentences of a young
wolf
The verses of a morning
hearth
You are spelling out
Both of us blind
The alphabet for the blind
does not help
We are observing the
raging waters
The faces of passengers
The stories of our parents
The myths of foreigners
The legends of ancestors
A handful of salt
A wooden spear
The cottage on the glade
We do not recognise
We cannot see
IV
An oak has the root
The violet iris grows out
of the soil
A swallow flies along the
line of its origin
A salmon growing old
returns to the river of its birth
We are dreaming of the
store windows
With silk toys for the
grown-ups
The walls of our dreams
Are balloons
The local meteorology
A mouse hole
Bounded by the ancient
skies
I cannot see the ones of
today
I cannot foresee the ones
of tomorrow
I exist like a dead birch
With a single spring with
leaves
On its side
V
Our inner universe
Wandering barley soul
Mechanics of joy and
regret
Are not sufficient
There is no manna
There is no cup for
sacrificial oil
There are no spirits at
forest roads
There are no fairies near
the raging waters
In the silent temples
By cruel motions of
foreign words
The memory was smashed
The feeling died
Our eyes record no more
Our words do not say
Our mind does not
recognise
VI
Where we are not yet
We will need the space
In which we are not any
more
When I do not see an apple
tree
I do not see distant
unknown spaces
Planets,
Constellations
Beings
I do not see myself
My own phases
When I am the Moon
When I am a distant star
in the sky
I do not recognise myself
VII
How can I learn to read
When there are no books
Unclear signs remained
A petrified spear
A rusty shield
The broken dishes
For which I have no eyes
No soul
No mind
Where from, where and when
The gap appeared
My father
His father
His father’s father
The homes follow one after
another
Ever since my cornea
Turns into shadows and
dark
The sparks in the middle
of the house
Since the angel at the
spring
Became invisible
Since I cannot hear
Advices of my Gods
They are not in signs
There are not in books
There are not in memories
VIII
I was entrusted with parts
of the singing
Taken out of the poem
Broken off the sound
Changed from the verse
To take the living fire
out of them
The words of a boar and
juniper
Like pieces of a sacred
stone
On which at times the
gentle
Divine leg was standing.
The steps remained
Taken into the dances
Melted in the new
instruments
Danced without the
sacrificial will
For me to shape waterfalls
of them
The wisdom of the thunder
in the clear sky
From where the all-seeing
goddesses
Used to guide my ancestors
by signs
Perhaps the song and dance
suffice
Perhaps nothing more is
needed
Perhaps all an awaken
human needs
He should find in the
crags of the soul
IX
Drought in the space
Lakes taking the colours
of surroundings
Comets floating over the
sky without a road
I am dancing
Among the rain-makers and
masks
Wondering at first through
the air
Through myself
Slowly drowning to the
fogs of wetlands
Falling down like the sun
into the shadow
And my feet
Becoming light hoofs of a
dear
My thoughts young treetop
of an oak
My motions heavy northern
wind
Two lights break through
the dark
My two goddesses
My two guides through the
forests and deserts
Two eyes of the soul like
a wave spilled over the rock
I was dancing for them
For my fascination with
light
For your ability of
reading
