Premature Awakening
Translated by: Zoran AnčevskiYou do not wake in the same room any more. And what used to be invisible is [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:03+00:00 May 10th, 2008|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 59|0 Comments
Translated by: Zoran AnčevskiYou do not wake in the same room any more. And what used to be invisible is [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:04+00:00 May 10th, 2008|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 59|0 Comments
Translated by: Elizabeta Bakovskaamong concealed mirrors, he resurrects Alexander of Macedon from the mosaics, friezes and reliefs: an eagle still [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:04+00:00 February 25th, 2008|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 58|0 Comments
In poems it always looks different. When I read sentences written by others, everything seems clear and easy. Like a [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:04+00:00 February 25th, 2008|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 58|0 Comments
after Roberto Juarroz As I sleep, my two hands come awake and work their craft, create or unpick some halfway [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:05+00:00 February 25th, 2008|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 58|0 Comments
Translated from the Macedonian by: Valentina PavlovskaWhen grandpa suddenly died my mother said: Now, no one else is between heaven [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:05+00:00 December 15th, 2007|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 57|0 Comments
Translated by Anselm HolloThere was no need to die, had to stay here and remember too much, remember the snowy [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:06+00:00 December 15th, 2007|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 57|0 Comments
Grace is the law of the descending movement. – Simone Weil A cry bursts like a wing-beat: among clicks and [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:06+00:00 October 17th, 2007|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 56|0 Comments
Translated by Nataša Papazovska-LevkovaThe house on the hill of memories stands high above the horizon and above the clouds. It [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:06+00:00 October 17th, 2007|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 56|0 Comments
Translated from the Slovene by: Igor DivjakRussians never run away, it’s too far.
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:07+00:00 October 17th, 2007|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 56|0 Comments
– Nakedness is the pulsing speech. – A mirror is a hollow body. Margret Kreidl Oh y-e-a-h it's an eye [...]