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moderndayruth

~ Tarot inspired essays and more

moderndayruth

Monthly Archives: July 2020

književna premijera: ROMAN LENE RUTH STEFANOVIĆ “AIMÉE / VOLJENA”, OKF, Cetinje, 7/2020; ulomak

30 Thursday Jul 2020

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Many thanks to Mr Željko Belinić – Čovjek- Časopis/ Man -Magazine
for launching my new novel, “Aimée” ♡

čovjek-časopis

U tom snu koji sam usnila predamnom su se pružala tri puta.
Prvi sa lijeve strane put bio je moj život onakvim kakvim ga pamtim. Krajnji desni put bio je moj život kakvim sam ga zamišljala, biografija, koju sam izmaštala. Između ta dva puta, bio je treći – put koji se sastojao od nepredviđenih događaja, onog famoznog „šta bi bilo kad bi bilo“.
Četvrti put, koji se izdizao i vijugao iznad ova tri, sadržao je događaje i sjećanja sa sva tri puta, po mom izboru.
Pošavši prvim putem, gledala sam kako se preda mnom smjenjuju zastave zemalja, koje su bivale sve manje i slušala himne, koje sam sve teže pamtila. Čitave federacije nestajale su, poput magle koja se rastvori na horizontu, tako brzo da biste se zapitali da li su uopšte postojale.
Na tom prvom, krajnjem lijevom putu, život me bolio. Velikim dijelom sastojao se od tuđe zavisti, neprimećene na…

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Crvene šterike

29 Wednesday Jul 2020

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Tags

#živimokulturu

U čast Praznika rada
Na Šabat, dan odmora,
Zapalila sam crvene svijeće
Mem na fejsbuku
Tito u bijelom
Na jahti
Kaže
Čujem slavite 1vi maj…
Gdje su vam fabrike?
Nema više fabrika u Crnim Planinama
Nema radnika
Ne slavi se ni praznik rada
Bar ne onako kao nekada
Majka na balkonu čita
Moskva Petuški i nije
Oduševljena
Ne voli tok svijesti
A i nešto je previše alkohola za njen ukus
Pogađate, gledale smo Marka Tomaša kod Kesića
I zato ponovo čitamo poemu Venjećke
Bivši ljubavnik me zove na WhatsApp
Iz kupatila
Govori engleski da ga žena ne razumije
Juče sam оdgledala seriju
Svih 10 epizoda
Zašto žene ubijaju
I ne mogu da kažem da ne bih razumjela njegovu ( ženu)
Da je moj (muž)
Ja bih ga sigurno ubila
I sakrila tijelo.

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Bookfair

21 Tuesday Jul 2020

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at the Roman atrium 
loudspeakers are blasting

a writer 
with some 30 European awards 
his last name like some verging on extension bird’s
manipulates the microphone with his’ hooked beak

he’s clicking loudly and folding the wings
while addressing the small audience

he is happy to be here again, he says

the stage is near the escalator
which takes Podgorica’s glitterati all the way down 
to the organic food store,  next to Lebanese restaurant 
where the first family is dining

you are drinking  Montenegrin grape brandy

at the Sheikh Zahid boulevard

at the international book fair 
where there are no book thieves

BOOKFAIR

u rimskom atrijumu
sa razglasa ječi
pisac
sa 30 evropskih nagrada
preziva se kao neka ptica
sabljastim kljunom manipulira mikrofonom
klikće jezikom i uvrće krila
malobrojnoj publici kaže
baš je sretan što je opet tu
bina je tik pored eskalatora
kojim se podgorička šminka spušta
do prodavaonice zdrave hrane, tu pored libanskog restorana
u kojem upravo ručava prva porodica
ti piješ Institutsku rakiju
u bulevaru Šeika Zahida
na internacionalnom sajmu
na kojem nema kradljivaca knjiga 

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Video

Dreaming city

20 Monday Jul 2020

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In my dreams, there’s not enough

Of New Belgrade’s block’s

I always start at 70th

Because once upon a time

Everyone mine used to live here

At the skyscraper at Yuri Gagarin street

(In my dreams)

Between bus stop and the block

There are hyper markets, bazaars, kebab sellers

If I go to bed hungry

(in my dreams)

I go there so often,

That I know precisely what’s placed where at the bazaar

And at the hypermarkets

Sometimes there are pharmacies, fairs, fish markets , and also

A department store in which all stuff is designed by me and is sold

Exclusivey here 

Behind the  fish market, just before block 70, is  Knez- Mihajlova street,

A half of it here, another half in Podgorica, and then it stretches all the way  to Zagreb’s suburbs

Promenade Lázaro Cárdenas which ( really)spreads across the block, starts somewhere in Ljubljana at  Cankar Hall…

Via Mostecka street from block 70  i continue into the night,

There are no street lights  

But, luckily, ( in my dreams)

Sun sets late

If it sets at all

The problem is with transportation

Last bus is leaving at midnight

And while distraught  tourists in Prague in vain look into the abyss

At the end of Charl’s bridge

Where Mostecka street used to be

And they wonder why on earth

Would a historic Prague street

Ran away to the concrete blocks of some other city

Which even isn’t situated in Czechs

 ( and its name itself says the street belongs to a bridge!)

( in my dream)

The street looks at me silently and it is as if it’s doubting the decision it made

 I am comforting it

I am telling her that for a long time in its midsts

At number 15 was an Embassy

Of a country which exists no more

This part of the city to which we are fleeing

Mostecká street and me

It also has a river and a bridge

And everyone speaks the language

Which has almost forgotten

And thus stone by stone

Street by street

I rebuild magical city from my childhood

Fairy city in which

Miracles are still possible

I am still a little girl

Bubbe is still alive

We cross the river by raft

Bubbe takes me to Mediterranean gardens

We eat delicious ripe figs at any time of the year

And we inhale the scent of a rose garden in bloom

While Zdravko Colic in the garden (in a dream)

sings “…Beautiful, you’re welcome into my life

Beautiful, the ice has already broken

Here, I’ll shoot three times into the air

Let them ask whats is the celebration. “

Cunning card player in a black coat       

In his hand holds a small Hungarian deck of cards

he’s looking for a third player for preference game

My grandmother turns into a girl

Quite young young and polite

She’s telling me I’ll  miss the last bus

(in my dreaam) I recall my mother’s dream

That morning she got up  all scared

Two Hunfarian men wearing long dark coats

Came to take away Pishta, our cat

He belongs to them, they said

My mother is screaming (in her dream )

She won’t let the cat

He’s name by passport is Davidi

Little David

We call him Pishta just like that

They say, Pishta is deminutiv of Ishtvan

The cat is coming with us

Full stop

( I am forgetting to ask my mother in which language did they converse..)

The nice girl who used to be my grandma

Discreetly points her ornate Longines watch

I’ll miss the last bus

Somewhere nearby the bells ring

The wind carries the smell of roasted chestnuts…

 

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Lena Ruth Stefanovic

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