EN / SLO

Dražen Katunarić

1954, Croatia

Born 1954 on the island of Brač in Croatia. He is a poet, writer, essayist, editor, translator, and a publisher. He graduated in philosophy at the University of Human sciences in Strasbourg. At present he is the editor of the acclaimed edition “European Messenger and the owner of the Literis publishing house. He published sixteen books of poetry, two novels and three collections of essays. His works were translated and published in ten languages and he was awarded many national and international literary awards, among others by the "Knight of Arts and Literature" by the French Ministry of Culture.

tvoja braća trče

tvoja braća trče
u zemlji Kronosa
koraci im izbrojani
sjene združene
igraju igrice za sebe
u samoći bez riječi
provjeravaju poruke
i opet trče

tvoja braća ne žele upoznati
ni radosti ni tuge
ljubavi ni mržnje
trče bez većeg naprezanja
zategnutih mišića
ravnomjernih kretnji
koraci im izbrojani

tvoja braća postala su gluha
za izgovorene riječi
razvezuju slušalicae
iznenađena lica
kimaju glavom
u nevoljama tišine

tvoja braća trče u tenisicama,
provjeravaju poruke
i opet trče
u zemlji Kronosa
s laganom naprtnjačom
nabacana prezira 

tvoja braća trče
ne dotičuć bokove laktovima
šutljivi, ozbiljni, odsutni
s krunom bešćutaa sjaja
koraci im izbrojani
sjene oduljene


V SLOVENŠČINI:

tvoji bratje tečejo

tvoji bratje tečejo
v Kronosovi deželi
njihovi koraki so prešteti
sence zlite
igrice igrajo za sebe
v samoti brez besed
preverjajo sporočila
in spet tečejo

tvoji bratje nočejo spoznati
niti radosti niti žalosti
ne ljubezni ne sovraštva
tečejo brez večjega napora
z napetimi mišicami
z enakomernimi gibi
njihovi koraki so prešteti

tvoji bratje so oglušeli
za izgovorjene besede
razpletajo slušalke
s presenečenimi obrazi
prikimavajo z glavo
v neprijetni tišini

tvoji bratje tečejo v teniških copatih
preverjajo sporočila
in spet tečejo
v Kronosovi deželi
z lahkim nahrbtnikom
navlečenega prezira

tvoji bratje tečejo
z lakti se ne dotikajo bokov
molčeči, resni, odsotni
s krono neobčutljivega sijaja
njihovi koraki so prešteti
sence zdaljšane
 
Prevedel Iztok Osojnik.


misa na web-u
                     Jean-Luc Wauthieru

stvaraš web
jer dragi Bog
te neprestano stvara

vrijeme prelijeće web
opkorači dugi dan tvoje
samoće

odozdo na web-u
sasjeci Kronov spol
da oćutiš se bezvremenim

misa na web-u
za nakanu ispale hostije
s usana čežnje

na web-u glas djevojke
ovlaži ti tabane
pjevaše sveto i profano

i da te jednom dotaknem
i dodirnem ti haljine
moje srce bilo bi cijelo
a sve rane bi nestale

Oh Bože
prepoznah te na web-u
po mirisu mlijeka
bezazlenom osmijehu
jednom otkucaju čistog srca

lomio si web na pola
i pružao mi kruh koji je još mirisao
na zlaćano klasje pod suncem
pružao mi čašu gustog plavca
koja me opila od ljubavi


V SLOVENŠČINI:

maša na medmrežju
                     Jean-Lucu Wauthierju
 
medmrežje ustvarjaš
ker te dragi Bog
neprestano ustvarja

čas preletava medmrežje
in obkroža dan tvoje
samote

od spodaj na medmrežju
odsekaj Kronovo spolovilo
da se obdržiš zunaj časa

maša na medmrežju
za namen izpadle hostije
z ustnic hrepenenja

na medmrežju ti glas dekleta
ovlaži podplate
poje svete in profane pesmi

če se te enkrat dotaknem
in se primem tvojega krila
bo moje srce spet celo
in vse rane bo zacelilo

O, Bog
prepoznal sem te na medmrežju
po vonju mleka
po nedolžnem nasmehu
po utripu čistega srca

prelomil si medmrežje na pol
in mi ponudil kruh, ki je še vedno dišal
na zlate klase pod soncem
dal si mi čašo gostega vina
ki me je opila z ljubeznijo

Prevedel Iztok Osojnik.


kompilacija

Ne znam odakle puše
tramontana
slijeva il' zdesna
da u ušima titrati

...the answer my friend
is blowing in the wind...

nasloni se na moje rame
i slušaj muziku ljeta
ptice su blizu
gnijezde se oko zvonika
u Lodèveu
pa razlijeću oko njega
dolje srce odbija satove
snuje o nemogućem

čuješ li onu staru melodiju
u zraku

...che colpa ne ho
se il cuore è uno zingaro e va


u ljeto 2010-te
sreo sam jednog Ciganina
u crnoj košulji
s bijelim biljegom na tjeme n u

rasplakao je mnoge žene
i stidljive muškarce
kad je svirao na harmonici

... catene non ha, il cuore è uno zingaro e va.


srce je sladunjavo
sedam puta zašećereno bademom
nećeš ga očistiti
ne ulijepiš li prste
između do i fa

srcu nije dovoljno
da otima protekle sate
želi ih utopiti u malo vanilije
i predati zaboravu

...e si fermerà chissà...
...e si fermerà chissà...


V SLOVENŠČINI:

kompilacija

Ne vem, od kod veje
tramontana
z leve ali z desne
da v ušesih buči

… the answer my friend
is blowing in the wind …

nasloni se mi na rame
poslušaj glasbo poletja
ptice so blizu
gnezdijo pri zvoniku
v Lodèveu
in letajo okoli njega
spodaj srce odbija ure
in sanjari o nemogočem

ali slišiš tisto staro melodijo
v zraku

...che colpa ne ho
se il cuore è uno zingaro e va

leta 2010
sem srečal Cigana
v črni srajci
z belim madežem na temenu

mnoge ženske so se jokale zaradi njega
in sramežljivi moški
ko je igral na orglice

... catene non ha, il cuore è uno zingaro e va

srce je sladkobno
sedemkrat posladkano z mandlji
ne boš ga očistil
če prstov ne zalepiš
med do in fa

srcu ni dovolj
da zgrabi pretekle ure
rado bi jih utopilo v kancu vanilije
in predalo pozabi

...e si fermerà chissà...
...e si fermerà chissà

Prevedel Iztok Osojnik.


daljinski

bili smo bezvremeni
dok nismo upalili televiziju
činilo se prerano
sve što je kasnilo s programom
kad pomisliš koliko smo puta pritisnuli daljinski,
upalili da zgasimo,
zgasili da upalimo,
pa opet obuli i izuli cipele,
navukli i skinuli čarape,
promijenili rublje,
izglačali i uprljali tijelo
pjevajući pod tušem

avec le temps, avec le temps, va, tout s'en va

prestali smo pjevati
držeći čvrsto sapun u ruci 
da nam ne isklizne saga o prolaznosti
«jučer smo bili», «sada smo ništa», «sutra ćemo biti»
bodri mladići prerano umirovljeni 
odlukom lastavičjih odbora
do dana kad će anđeo smrti
zamahnuti teškim krilima nad ekranom
umočiti vrškova perja
u naše razliven e suze razliti
što slijevaju se utorima lica


même le plus chouett's souv'enir ça t'a un' de ces gueules
A la gallerie j'farfouille dans les rayons d'la mort
Le samedi soir quand la tendresse s'en va toute seule


psalam vjetru

Kad te zazovem vjetre,
usliši moje levantsko srce
da se razlije kao more
položi beskraj pred mojim očima
ljeskavi put opasan radošću    
pokreni
modro valovlje
da se ljuljam u barci na pučini,
sâm na otvorenom,
i kad sam ništa,
neka budem prohujalo sve.


V SLOVENŠČINI:

psalm vetru

veter, ko te pokličem
usliši moje levantinsko srce
da se bo odprlo kakor morje
položi mi neskončnost pred oči
lesketajočo pot, opasano z radostjo
oživi
modrikaste valove
da se bom na odprtem morju pozibaval na barki
sam na odprtem
in ko bom nič
naj bom vse hipoma minulo.

Prevedel Iztok Osojnik.



DRAFT TRANSLATIONS:

your brothers run

your brothers run
in the land of Chronos
their steps numbered
shadows combined
they play games for themselves
in seclusion with no words
check out the messages
and run again


your brothers wish to know
neither joy or nor sorrow
love nor hatred
they run without much effort
of taut muscles
in even movements
their steps numbered

your brothers went deaf
to spoken words
they unwind the earphones
surprised faces
nod the head
in troubles of silence

your brothers run in trainers
check out the messages
and run again
in the land of Chronos
with a light knapsack
of piled contempt

your brothers run
not touching hips with elbows
taciturn, serious, absent
with a crown of callous glory
their steps numbered
shadows elongated

 

mass on the Web
          to Jean-Luc Wauthier

you create the Web
for the good Lord
creates you without cease

time flies across the web
bestrides the long day of your
solitude

from on high on the web
cut Chronos’ sex
to feel eternal

mass on the Web
for the intention of a fallen wafer
of the lips of longing

on the Web a girl's voice
moistens your soles
sang sacred and profane

could I but once touch you
and touch your skirts
my heart would be whole
all wounds would vanish

Oh Lord
I could tell you on the Web
by the smell of milk
the harmless smile
one beat of the pure  heart

you broke the web in two
and proffered me bread still smelling
of the gold ears beneath the sun
offered me a glass of thick Plavac
that fuddled me with love


compilation

I do not know from where
the tramontana blows
from the left or right
to flicker in the ears

... the answer my friend
is blowing in the wind...

lean on my shoulder
listen to the summer's music
the birds are close
nesting around the bell tower
in Lodeve
and fly  around it
below the heart strikes the hours
dreams of the impossible

do you hear that old melody
in the air

...che colpa ne ho
se il cuore e uno zingaro e  va


in summer 2010
I met a gipsy man
in a black shirt
a white mark on his head

many women cried
and shamefaced men
when he played upon the accordion

... catene non ha, il cuore è uno zingaro e va.

 

the heart is cloying
seven times sugared with almond
you will not clean it
unless you paste your fingers
twixt do and fa

for the heart it's not enough
to snatch the hours passed
it wants to steep them in vanilla
consign them to oblivion

...e si fermerà chissà...
...e si fermerà chissà...


remote

we were timeless
until we turned on the television
it seemed too early
everything that was late in the programme
when you think how many times we pressed the remote
turned on to turn off
turned off to turn on
and again put on and took off our shoes
pulled on and pulled off our socks
changed our underwear
smoothed and dirtied the body
singing in the shower

avec le temps, avec le temps, va, tout s'en va

we ceased singing
holding the soap tightly in our hand
so the saga of transience should not slip away
“yesterday we were,” “today we are nothing”, “tomorrow we shall be”
robust youths retired too soon
with the resolve of boards of swallows
to the day when the angel of death
will flap its heavy wings over the screen
dip the tips of the feathers
into our overflowing tears
pouring down the face’s grooves

même le plus chouett's souv'enir ça t'a un' de ces gueules
A la gallerie j'farfouille dans les rayons d'la mort
Le samedi soir quand la tendresse s'en va toute seule


psalm to the wind

When I call you wind
hear my levantine heart
spilling like the sea
place infinity before my yes
the shimmering way encircled in joy
set off
the blue waves
for me to rock in a boat on the ocean
alone on the open sea
and when I am nothing
may I be all gone


To Remain a Source of the Human [Humanity]

To remain a source of light, even when they try to slander [denigrate] you,
and to have the power of a solvent, which dissolves their
heavy [difficult] words from [out of] the chains of freedom
into the sweetened water of forced propriety [civility].

To remain a source of light, even when they try to devour you,
and to have the power of an x-ray, with the help of which you
look directly into the swim bladders of piranhas
and know how they will move with the water currents.

To remain a source of light even when they try to annihilate [nullify] you,
the dark shadows in the hushed beam of night [see note], when
all the cows in the left part of the stable
are just as dark as those in the right stall.

And perhaps the ones in the middle are also black, [the ones] which
secretly chase the wisps inside our
newly [freshly] deprecated works [parts; segments],
so that they can selfishly ascend toward the light.

To remain a barely perceptible chink [gap, crack] in a stuffy room [space],
a very tiny [in]flow of energy, a touch of the human [humanity].

Literary association IA

The 9th Golden Boat Poetry Translation Workshop 2011

The 9th Golden Boat International Translation Workshop 2011

IN MEDIA:

Primorske novice, 4. 9. 2011

Radio Slovenija, Program ARS, Kulturna panorama, 3. 9. 2011

This year's traditional 9th Golden Boat International Poetry Translation Workshop 2011 will be held from 28th August to 4th September in Škocjan in the Karst in Slovenia. This year's guests come from eight countries: Pamela Uschuk and William Root from USA, Martina Hefter and Jan Kuhlbrodt from Germany, Jonáš Hájek and Jana Šnytová from Czech Republic, Esa Hirvonen from Finland, Dražen Katunarić from Croatia, Amir Talić from Bosnia and Herzegovina, Isabella Panfido from Italy, Catherine MacCarthy from Ireland, Alja Adam, Tatjana T. Jamnik, Marjan Strojan, Špela Sevšek Šramel, Slavo Šerc from Slovenia. The workshop will be led by Iztok Osojnik. As every year, the workshop is dedicated to nurturing live contacts in the West European, Central European and Slavic triangle, linking towns and major European literatures of the east and the west, co-organizing festivals, symposia, meetings and workshops, the international recognition of Škocjan as a modern literary hub and the encouragement and dissemination of original poetry and translations in Slovenia and abroad. The successful promotion of Slovenian poet Srečko Kosovel in the UK and the USA will soon be followed by a new monograph on Kosovel in Polish and the international publication of a new wave of Slovenian classics (Cankar, Strniša, Detela). The Golden Boat participants will present their work on two free, public readings: 1st September at 8 p.m. in Škocjan in the Karst and 2nd September at 7.30 p.m. at the Trubar House of Literature in Ljubljana. For more information see www.ia-zlaticoln.org.

The Golden Boat Workshop is organized by the Literary Association of IA in collaboration with Cultural-Artistic Association of Polica Dubova, Tourist Association Škocjan, Cultural Association Vilenica, magazine Monitor ZSA, KUD France Preseren, Regional Community Alps-Adriatic and journals / publishing houses Apokalipsa and Poetikon.
The workshop is supported by Slovenian Book Agency, Krka, d. d., Škocjan Caves Park, publisher Pighog Press (England), FILI (Finland), Inn at Vncku, Cuisle Limerick  Festival (Ireland), SKD Sežana, Trubar House of Literature, Okarina, d. o. o., Association Triglav-Rysy (Poland).

PROGRAM
Sunday, 28th August - arrivals
19:00 – Welcome dinner

Monday, 29th August
9:30 – Working session
13:00 – Lunch
19:00 – Dinner

Tuesday, 30th August
9:30 – Working session
13:00 – Lunch
14:30 – Excursion (Škocjan caves)
19:00 – Dinner

Wednesday, 31st  August
9:30 – Working session
13:00 – Lunch
15:00 – Walking excursion
19:00 – Dinner

Thursday, 1st September
9:30 – Working session
13:00 – Lunch
18:30 – Dinner
20:00 – The Golden Boat reading Škocjan

Friday, 2nd September
9:30 – Working session
12:30 – Lunch
14:00 – Departure for Ljubljana
19:30 – The Golden Boat Reading at the
 Trubarjeva hiša literature (Trubar’s House of Literature) in Ljubljana

Saturday, 3rd September
9:30 – Session on translating poetry
13:00 – Lunch
15:00 – Excursion to Tomaj
20:00 – Farewell Dinner

Sunday, 4th September
Departure after breakfast

Zlati Čoln 2010