Great Britain
Writing
Again I am thinking in verses,
I announce words no fault of mine.
I accept every complicity provoked by the writing.
Writing in open spaces, under the open sky,
on desperation and illness, but with equal passion,
as every writing to salvation leads.
On stone, in enclosed and unknown spaces,
although all the words are equally unknown.
Writing on every season,
on apocrypha, on already mastered signs.
And on all the meridians,
writing on edges, dangerous writing.
And for no reason — that is, again, every writing.
On the kilometres over which we, the lonely,
think about how to conquer the blankness of the paper,
how to describe the world.
Let the pauses between the writing lead to salvation.
On already written papers,
the writing of the first lines of the next poem…
The magic of creation. The creation of the seductive.
Writing —
always the knighthood in vain.
Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević
FRANCE
Writing
Again I am thinking in verses,
I announce words no fault of mine.
I accept every complicity provoked by the writing.
Writing in open spaces, under the open sky,
on desperation and illness, but with equal passion,
as every writing to salvation leads.
On stone, in enclosed and unknown spaces,
although all the words are equally unknown.
Writing on every season,
on apocrypha, on already mastered signs.
And on all the meridians,
writing on edges, dangerous writing.
And for no reason — that is, again, every writing.
On the kilometres over which we, the lonely,
think about how to conquer the blankness of the paper,
how to describe the world.
Let the pauses between the writing lead to salvation.
On already written papers,
the writing of the first lines of the next poem…
The magic of creation. The creation of the seductive.
Writing —
always the knighthood in vain.
Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević
Germany
Writing
Again I am thinking in verses,
I announce words no fault of mine.
I accept every complicity provoked by the writing.
Writing in open spaces, under the open sky,
on desperation and illness, but with equal passion,
as every writing to salvation leads.
On stone, in enclosed and unknown spaces,
although all the words are equally unknown.
Writing on every season,
on apocrypha, on already mastered signs.
And on all the meridians,
writing on edges, dangerous writing.
And for no reason — that is, again, every writing.
On the kilometres over which we, the lonely,
think about how to conquer the blankness of the paper,
how to describe the world.
Let the pauses between the writing lead to salvation.
On already written papers,
the writing of the first lines of the next poem…
The magic of creation. The creation of the seductive.
Writing —
always the knighthood in vain.
Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević
Italia
Writing
Again I am thinking in verses,
I announce words no fault of mine.
I accept every complicity provoked by the writing.
Writing in open spaces, under the open sky,
on desperation and illness, but with equal passion,
as every writing to salvation leads.
On stone, in enclosed and unknown spaces,
although all the words are equally unknown.
Writing on every season,
on apocrypha, on already mastered signs.
And on all the meridians,
writing on edges, dangerous writing.
And for no reason — that is, again, every writing.
On the kilometres over which we, the lonely,
think about how to conquer the blankness of the paper,
how to describe the world.
Let the pauses between the writing lead to salvation.
On already written papers,
the writing of the first lines of the next poem…
The magic of creation. The creation of the seductive.
Writing —
always the knighthood in vain.
Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević
Albania
Writing
Again I am thinking in verses,
I announce words no fault of mine.
I accept every complicity provoked by the writing.
Writing in open spaces, under the open sky,
on desperation and illness, but with equal passion,
as every writing to salvation leads.
On stone, in enclosed and unknown spaces,
although all the words are equally unknown.
Writing on every season,
on apocrypha, on already mastered signs.
And on all the meridians,
writing on edges, dangerous writing.
And for no reason — that is, again, every writing.
On the kilometres over which we, the lonely,
think about how to conquer the blankness of the paper,
how to describe the world.
Let the pauses between the writing lead to salvation.
On already written papers,
the writing of the first lines of the next poem…
The magic of creation. The creation of the seductive.
Writing —
always the knighthood in vain.
Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević
Poland
Writing
Again I am thinking in verses,
I announce words no fault of mine.
I accept every complicity provoked by the writing.
Writing in open spaces, under the open sky,
on desperation and illness, but with equal passion,
as every writing to salvation leads.
On stone, in enclosed and unknown spaces,
although all the words are equally unknown.
Writing on every season,
on apocrypha, on already mastered signs.
And on all the meridians,
writing on edges, dangerous writing.
And for no reason — that is, again, every writing.
On the kilometres over which we, the lonely,
think about how to conquer the blankness of the paper,
how to describe the world.
Let the pauses between the writing lead to salvation.
On already written papers,
the writing of the first lines of the next poem…
The magic of creation. The creation of the seductive.
Writing —
always the knighthood in vain.
Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević
Russia
Writing
Again I am thinking in verses,
I announce words no fault of mine.
I accept every complicity provoked by the writing.
Writing in open spaces, under the open sky,
on desperation and illness, but with equal passion,
as every writing to salvation leads.
On stone, in enclosed and unknown spaces,
although all the words are equally unknown.
Writing on every season,
on apocrypha, on already mastered signs.
And on all the meridians,
writing on edges, dangerous writing.
And for no reason — that is, again, every writing.
On the kilometres over which we, the lonely,
think about how to conquer the blankness of the paper,
how to describe the world.
Let the pauses between the writing lead to salvation.
On already written papers,
the writing of the first lines of the next poem…
The magic of creation. The creation of the seductive.
Writing —
always the knighthood in vain.
Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević
Slovakia
Writing
Again I am thinking in verses,
I announce words no fault of mine.
I accept every complicity provoked by the writing.
Writing in open spaces, under the open sky,
on desperation and illness, but with equal passion,
as every writing to salvation leads.
On stone, in enclosed and unknown spaces,
although all the words are equally unknown.
Writing on every season,
on apocrypha, on already mastered signs.
And on all the meridians,
writing on edges, dangerous writing.
And for no reason — that is, again, every writing.
On the kilometres over which we, the lonely,
think about how to conquer the blankness of the paper,
how to describe the world.
Let the pauses between the writing lead to salvation.
On already written papers,
the writing of the first lines of the next poem…
The magic of creation. The creation of the seductive.
Writing —
always the knighthood in vain.
Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević
Sweden
Writing
Again I am thinking in verses,
I announce words no fault of mine.
I accept every complicity provoked by the writing.
Writing in open spaces, under the open sky,
on desperation and illness, but with equal passion,
as every writing to salvation leads.
On stone, in enclosed and unknown spaces,
although all the words are equally unknown.
Writing on every season,
on apocrypha, on already mastered signs.
And on all the meridians,
writing on edges, dangerous writing.
And for no reason — that is, again, every writing.
On the kilometres over which we, the lonely,
think about how to conquer the blankness of the paper,
how to describe the world.
Let the pauses between the writing lead to salvation.
On already written papers,
the writing of the first lines of the next poem…
The magic of creation. The creation of the seductive.
Writing —
always the knighthood in vain.
Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević
Slovenija
Writing
Again I am thinking in verses,
I announce words no fault of mine.
I accept every complicity provoked by the writing.
Writing in open spaces, under the open sky,
on desperation and illness, but with equal passion,
as every writing to salvation leads.
On stone, in enclosed and unknown spaces,
although all the words are equally unknown.
Writing on every season,
on apocrypha, on already mastered signs.
And on all the meridians,
writing on edges, dangerous writing.
And for no reason — that is, again, every writing.
On the kilometres over which we, the lonely,
think about how to conquer the blankness of the paper,
how to describe the world.
Let the pauses between the writing lead to salvation.
On already written papers,
the writing of the first lines of the next poem…
The magic of creation. The creation of the seductive.
Writing —
always the knighthood in vain.
Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević
North Macedonia
Writing
Again I am thinking in verses,
I announce words no fault of mine.
I accept every complicity provoked by the writing.
Writing in open spaces, under the open sky,
on desperation and illness, but with equal passion,
as every writing to salvation leads.
On stone, in enclosed and unknown spaces,
although all the words are equally unknown.
Writing on every season,
on apocrypha, on already mastered signs.
And on all the meridians,
writing on edges, dangerous writing.
And for no reason — that is, again, every writing.
On the kilometres over which we, the lonely,
think about how to conquer the blankness of the paper,
how to describe the world.
Let the pauses between the writing lead to salvation.
On already written papers,
the writing of the first lines of the next poem…
The magic of creation. The creation of the seductive.
Writing —
always the knighthood in vain.
Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević