āCzeslaw Milosz, āDedicationā, from New and Collected Poems

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āCzeslaw Milosz, āDedicationā, from New and Collected Poems

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What's Bosnia's best export?
vehement antifascism
Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Sporisevic Photography
youāre so cool, nicole dollanganger c. 2015
Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter to Andonis Anemoyannis, 1902

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Archives from the vintage Palestinian magazine Al-Jadeed (The New), a monthly magazine for progressive national thought and culture established in (1951). šµšøšļøš
Source: the Palestinian Museum / the Digital Archive
Vladimir Mayakovsky (1917)
I Am Cuba (Soy Cuba/ŠÆ - ŠŃба) | Mikhail Kalatozov | 1964 | USSR
the nuisance of our language is stunning
ahh but true slavs know they all have slightly different meanings ;)
english sucks because they have like 3 swear words combined
@one-time-i-dreamt can you answer this?
jebati - fuck someone
podjebavati - to screw around with someone
zajebavati - same as above but more joking and lighthearted
zajebati - fuck something up or fuck someone over
izjebati - could mean to fuck someone good or fuck someone up lol
ujebati - made a mistake
razjebati - break something
sjebati - fucked something up, made a mistake
nadjebavati - outsmart someone
jebuckati - to talk minor shit, also a more innocent way to say fuck
odjebati - ditch someone
najebati - get in trouble
prejebati - screw someone over, do something sneaky (bad)
dojebati - move somewhere, often said about people from rural areas moving to big towns
my personal fav - nejebica - state of fucklessness

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Perfect poem is perfect, here is the translation (which kills the poemās meanings but okay).
You have decided to destroy me at any cost You are going towards me. And while you are running Laughing and crying You are erasing And destroying everything On your way You have decided to destroy me at any cost But you seem inable to find The true path To me Because You know old and clear roads And no other (But actually they are short and poor No matter how much Difficult and Long They are For cruel and strong you) You only know the roads That lead From Heart And Eye But that is not all There are other roads in front of us Without public trace on them Without timeline Without time And deadlines You think that your path to poor me Is very safe and honorable The one That comes From the left Or Right You lie to yourself constalty, that I should be reached From similar directions From North Or South But that is not everything Plauge Is always smart And looks for my Eyes Under rye agitated by the wind In the root of Earth where the darkness is thick/deep And from unmeasurable heights From Above It Can It Must Press the Chest As hard as it can But that is not all You donāt know the law of of the crossroad Between two lights And Darkness But that is not all Because what you know least is that in your being The hardest fights And true wars Are in A being itself You donāt know, that actually, you are my smallest evil Among many My Big Evils You have no idea Who are you messing with You know nothing about my map of roads You donāt know that road from you to me Is not the same as th road From me To you You know nothing of my wealth Hidden for your powerful eyes (You donāt know that Destiny has given me and gifted me With much more than you imagine) You have decided to destroy me by any cost But you canāt find the right path To me (I understand you: You are a human in space and time And lives now and here And doesnāt know about limitless Space of time In which I am in Present Far from yesterday Far from tomorrow Thinking About you But that is not all)
THE DEEP BLUE RIVER
There is no-one who knows where this place is We know only there is this place where Behind the mountains, beyond the valleysĀ After seven or more than eight Even worse and even harder Tougher, steeper, even fartherĀ Thru the hawthorns, thru the brambles Thru the drought and thru the torture Past suspicion, past hesitation After nine or more than ten Then still deeper and even stronger Beyond the silence, beyond the darkness Where there is no song of rooster Where there is no sound of horn And even worse, and even farther Beyond the mind and God the Father There exists a deep blue river It is wide and it is deep.Ā A hundred years it is in widthĀ And a thousand in its depth.Ā For its length you canāt imagineĀ Gloom and darkness agonizing.Ā There exists a deep blue river There exists a deep blue river.Ā We shall have to cross the river.Ā
Mak Dizdar
Rastvorio sam se I potekao
Potocima
Rijekama
Morima
Sada sam tu
Sada sam tu Bez sebe
Gorak
Kako svom izvoru Da se vratim?
Mak Dizdar, Kameni spavaÄ
āA Text about Landā
Mak Dizdar, translation by Francis R. Jones
Once upon a time a worthy questioner asked:
Forgive me who is and what sir
Where is
Whence and
Whither sir
Prithee sir
Is this
Bosnia
The questioned swiftly replied in this wise:
Forgive me there once was a land sir called Bosnia
A fasting a frosty a
Footsore a drossy a
Land forgive me
That wakes from sleep sir
With a
Defiant
Sneer
You have decided to destroy me no matter what Yet you fail to find The right road To me
For You know the forged and beaten roads And no other
Mak Mehmedalija Dizdar

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SelimoviÄ, Death and the dervish
āCritics are like horse-flies which prevent the horse from plowingā, he [Chekhov] said, smiling his wise smile. āThe horse works, all its muscles drawn tight like the strings on a doublebass, and a fly settles on his flanks and tickles and buzzesā¦. He has to twitch his skin and swish his tail. And what does the fly buzz about? It scarcely knows itself; simply because it is restless and wants to proclaim: āLook, I too am living on the earth. See, I can buzz, too, buzz about anythingā. For twenty-five years I have read criticisms of my stories, and I donāt remember a single remark of any value or one word of valuable advice. Only once Skabichevsky wrote something which made an impression on me ⦠He said I would die in a ditch, drunk.ā
ā Maxim Gorky, āReminiscences of Tolstoy, Chekhov, and Andreyevā, 1920, New York: Compass Books, 1959, pp. 79-80.