Lidija Nikčević: Stanica

Great Britain

Every Awakening

I expected the Flood last night.

It was impossible to listen attentively to the first cry

from the bottom of the moist Earth and, at the same time,

to hail within myself the Archangel of Mercy.

The awakenings always imply a kind of

uneasiness — in consonance with them I undoubtedly know

how life keeps dragging. When I decided

to account for the daily sufferings,

I even surprised myself. In fact, loudly I

protested against the huge circle of light:

sometimes in accordance with the morning, I get rougher.

Without the hellish disturbance, I expect the end of the day.

What is left has merged into mere abidance,

in the method of Anathemas and Admirations.

 

2.

All things will get the infinite order,

and with every day it is possible to anticipate the end.

The continuation of that competition assumes

retreat. Almost imperceptibly and silently.

All things considered, this might be the reason why I feel the black sky

has been near for days, why sorrow is only to a poem knotted,

why every man will run to his dust.

Once: when the last spring dies.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

FRANCE

Every Awakening

I expected the Flood last night.

It was impossible to listen attentively to the first cry

from the bottom of the moist Earth and, at the same time,

to hail within myself the Archangel of Mercy.

The awakenings always imply a kind of

uneasiness — in consonance with them I undoubtedly know

how life keeps dragging. When I decided

to account for the daily sufferings,

I even surprised myself. In fact, loudly I

protested against the huge circle of light:

sometimes in accordance with the morning, I get rougher.

Without the hellish disturbance, I expect the end of the day.

What is left has merged into mere abidance,

in the method of Anathemas and Admirations.

 

2.

All things will get the infinite order,

and with every day it is possible to anticipate the end.

The continuation of that competition assumes

retreat. Almost imperceptibly and silently.

All things considered, this might be the reason why I feel the black sky

has been near for days, why sorrow is only to a poem knotted,

why every man will run to his dust.

Once: when the last spring dies.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Germany

Every Awakening

I expected the Flood last night.

It was impossible to listen attentively to the first cry

from the bottom of the moist Earth and, at the same time,

to hail within myself the Archangel of Mercy.

The awakenings always imply a kind of

uneasiness — in consonance with them I undoubtedly know

how life keeps dragging. When I decided

to account for the daily sufferings,

I even surprised myself. In fact, loudly I

protested against the huge circle of light:

sometimes in accordance with the morning, I get rougher.

Without the hellish disturbance, I expect the end of the day.

What is left has merged into mere abidance,

in the method of Anathemas and Admirations.

 

2.

All things will get the infinite order,

and with every day it is possible to anticipate the end.

The continuation of that competition assumes

retreat. Almost imperceptibly and silently.

All things considered, this might be the reason why I feel the black sky

has been near for days, why sorrow is only to a poem knotted,

why every man will run to his dust.

Once: when the last spring dies.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Italia

Every Awakening

I expected the Flood last night.

It was impossible to listen attentively to the first cry

from the bottom of the moist Earth and, at the same time,

to hail within myself the Archangel of Mercy.

The awakenings always imply a kind of

uneasiness — in consonance with them I undoubtedly know

how life keeps dragging. When I decided

to account for the daily sufferings,

I even surprised myself. In fact, loudly I

protested against the huge circle of light:

sometimes in accordance with the morning, I get rougher.

Without the hellish disturbance, I expect the end of the day.

What is left has merged into mere abidance,

in the method of Anathemas and Admirations.

 

2.

All things will get the infinite order,

and with every day it is possible to anticipate the end.

The continuation of that competition assumes

retreat. Almost imperceptibly and silently.

All things considered, this might be the reason why I feel the black sky

has been near for days, why sorrow is only to a poem knotted,

why every man will run to his dust.

Once: when the last spring dies.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Albania

Every Awakening

I expected the Flood last night.

It was impossible to listen attentively to the first cry

from the bottom of the moist Earth and, at the same time,

to hail within myself the Archangel of Mercy.

The awakenings always imply a kind of

uneasiness — in consonance with them I undoubtedly know

how life keeps dragging. When I decided

to account for the daily sufferings,

I even surprised myself. In fact, loudly I

protested against the huge circle of light:

sometimes in accordance with the morning, I get rougher.

Without the hellish disturbance, I expect the end of the day.

What is left has merged into mere abidance,

in the method of Anathemas and Admirations.

 

2.

All things will get the infinite order,

and with every day it is possible to anticipate the end.

The continuation of that competition assumes

retreat. Almost imperceptibly and silently.

All things considered, this might be the reason why I feel the black sky

has been near for days, why sorrow is only to a poem knotted,

why every man will run to his dust.

Once: when the last spring dies.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Poland

Every Awakening

I expected the Flood last night.

It was impossible to listen attentively to the first cry

from the bottom of the moist Earth and, at the same time,

to hail within myself the Archangel of Mercy.

The awakenings always imply a kind of

uneasiness — in consonance with them I undoubtedly know

how life keeps dragging. When I decided

to account for the daily sufferings,

I even surprised myself. In fact, loudly I

protested against the huge circle of light:

sometimes in accordance with the morning, I get rougher.

Without the hellish disturbance, I expect the end of the day.

What is left has merged into mere abidance,

in the method of Anathemas and Admirations.

 

2.

All things will get the infinite order,

and with every day it is possible to anticipate the end.

The continuation of that competition assumes

retreat. Almost imperceptibly and silently.

All things considered, this might be the reason why I feel the black sky

has been near for days, why sorrow is only to a poem knotted,

why every man will run to his dust.

Once: when the last spring dies.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Russia

Every Awakening

I expected the Flood last night.

It was impossible to listen attentively to the first cry

from the bottom of the moist Earth and, at the same time,

to hail within myself the Archangel of Mercy.

The awakenings always imply a kind of

uneasiness — in consonance with them I undoubtedly know

how life keeps dragging. When I decided

to account for the daily sufferings,

I even surprised myself. In fact, loudly I

protested against the huge circle of light:

sometimes in accordance with the morning, I get rougher.

Without the hellish disturbance, I expect the end of the day.

What is left has merged into mere abidance,

in the method of Anathemas and Admirations.

 

2.

All things will get the infinite order,

and with every day it is possible to anticipate the end.

The continuation of that competition assumes

retreat. Almost imperceptibly and silently.

All things considered, this might be the reason why I feel the black sky

has been near for days, why sorrow is only to a poem knotted,

why every man will run to his dust.

Once: when the last spring dies.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Slovakia

Every Awakening

I expected the Flood last night.

It was impossible to listen attentively to the first cry

from the bottom of the moist Earth and, at the same time,

to hail within myself the Archangel of Mercy.

The awakenings always imply a kind of

uneasiness — in consonance with them I undoubtedly know

how life keeps dragging. When I decided

to account for the daily sufferings,

I even surprised myself. In fact, loudly I

protested against the huge circle of light:

sometimes in accordance with the morning, I get rougher.

Without the hellish disturbance, I expect the end of the day.

What is left has merged into mere abidance,

in the method of Anathemas and Admirations.

 

2.

All things will get the infinite order,

and with every day it is possible to anticipate the end.

The continuation of that competition assumes

retreat. Almost imperceptibly and silently.

All things considered, this might be the reason why I feel the black sky

has been near for days, why sorrow is only to a poem knotted,

why every man will run to his dust.

Once: when the last spring dies.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Sweden

Every Awakening

I expected the Flood last night.

It was impossible to listen attentively to the first cry

from the bottom of the moist Earth and, at the same time,

to hail within myself the Archangel of Mercy.

The awakenings always imply a kind of

uneasiness — in consonance with them I undoubtedly know

how life keeps dragging. When I decided

to account for the daily sufferings,

I even surprised myself. In fact, loudly I

protested against the huge circle of light:

sometimes in accordance with the morning, I get rougher.

Without the hellish disturbance, I expect the end of the day.

What is left has merged into mere abidance,

in the method of Anathemas and Admirations.

 

2.

All things will get the infinite order,

and with every day it is possible to anticipate the end.

The continuation of that competition assumes

retreat. Almost imperceptibly and silently.

All things considered, this might be the reason why I feel the black sky

has been near for days, why sorrow is only to a poem knotted,

why every man will run to his dust.

Once: when the last spring dies.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Slovenija

Every Awakening

I expected the Flood last night.

It was impossible to listen attentively to the first cry

from the bottom of the moist Earth and, at the same time,

to hail within myself the Archangel of Mercy.

The awakenings always imply a kind of

uneasiness — in consonance with them I undoubtedly know

how life keeps dragging. When I decided

to account for the daily sufferings,

I even surprised myself. In fact, loudly I

protested against the huge circle of light:

sometimes in accordance with the morning, I get rougher.

Without the hellish disturbance, I expect the end of the day.

What is left has merged into mere abidance,

in the method of Anathemas and Admirations.

 

2.

All things will get the infinite order,

and with every day it is possible to anticipate the end.

The continuation of that competition assumes

retreat. Almost imperceptibly and silently.

All things considered, this might be the reason why I feel the black sky

has been near for days, why sorrow is only to a poem knotted,

why every man will run to his dust.

Once: when the last spring dies.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

North Macedonia

Every Awakening

I expected the Flood last night.

It was impossible to listen attentively to the first cry

from the bottom of the moist Earth and, at the same time,

to hail within myself the Archangel of Mercy.

The awakenings always imply a kind of

uneasiness — in consonance with them I undoubtedly know

how life keeps dragging. When I decided

to account for the daily sufferings,

I even surprised myself. In fact, loudly I

protested against the huge circle of light:

sometimes in accordance with the morning, I get rougher.

Without the hellish disturbance, I expect the end of the day.

What is left has merged into mere abidance,

in the method of Anathemas and Admirations.

 

2.

All things will get the infinite order,

and with every day it is possible to anticipate the end.

The continuation of that competition assumes

retreat. Almost imperceptibly and silently.

All things considered, this might be the reason why I feel the black sky

has been near for days, why sorrow is only to a poem knotted,

why every man will run to his dust.

Once: when the last spring dies.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević