Matija Bećković

Matija Bećković Poems

A famous tale
From the far north
...

And very soon the day must be near
we shall send a request to the prison governor
...

If I knew that I would hold myself proudly
In prison and before courts:
I would roast and burn but still bear all
...

I uskoro ćemo, taj dan doći mora,
Uputiti molbe upravi zatvora -

Da nas liše straha, slobode i zime
I na robiju tešku da nas prime!

A kad nas u lance bace i povežu,
Nek svet izgubi sramnu ravnotežu!

I od dva sveta što svet ovaj čine,
Nek svet robijaša bude svet većine!

A čuvari nek nas, iz straha il' srama,
Jedne noći mole da budu sa nama!
...

Bald kommt der Tag, wir müssen zur Neugestaltung,
Gesuche verschicken an die Haftverwaltung -

Beraubt uns der Angst, Freiheit und der Winter
Steckt uns in Häuser mit Gittern dahinter!

Haben sie uns gekettet aneinander und dicht,
Mag die Welt verlieren ihr schändlich Gleichgewicht!

Von den zwei Welten, aus denen unsre gemacht,
Wurde die große Mehrheit schon in Haft gebracht!

Dann in einer Nacht, vor Angst oder aus Schande,
Wird sich ergeben, flehend, die Wärterbande!
...

День такой наступит, с новой челобитной
Обратятся люди к власти ненасытной -

Пусть лишат нас страха, страсти и свободы
И в застенки спрячут на долгие годы!

Путь застроят тюрьмами города и веси.
Мир тогда утратит мерзость равновесия!

Милыми покажутся прежние изъяны.
Ведь на нас на всех не наберешь охраны!

Ночь придет, и, утра не дождавшись даже,
В страхе о пощаде нас попросит стража.
...

Kad bih znao da bih se ponosno držao
Na robijama i pred sudovima:
Žario bih, palio i sve izdržao
I svemu se odupro golim udovima!

Kad bih znao da bih sto ispod stopala
Sam ćušnuo i sam omču namakao:
Večnosti bi se moja duša dokopala
A moj dželat bi za mnom zaplakao!

Al bojim se da bih počeo da molim
Da plačem, klečim i sve da izdajem,
da bih sačuvao samo život goli,
Na sve da pljunem na sve da pristajem.
...

Po čuvenoj priči
Sa dalekog severa
Lovci na vukove
Bodež sa dve oštrice
Umoče u svežu krv
Balčak pobodu u led
I ostave u snežnoj pustinji.

Gladan vuk
Oseti krv nadaleko
Pogotovu na čistom oštrom vazduhu
Pod visokim mraznim zvezdama
I brzo pronađe krvavu udicu.

Oblizujući smrznutu sukrvicu
Poreže jezičinu
I svoju toplu krv
Lapće s hladnog sečiva.

I ne ume da stane
Dok se ne skljoka
Nadut od sopstvene krvi.

Kad su takvi vukovi
Koji se najteže love
Kakvi li su tek ljudi
Pa i čitavi narodi
A pogotovu naš
Koji su vlastite krvi
Ne može nadostiti
I pre će nestati
Nego se opsetiti
Da će krvav bodež
Ostati
Jedini
Spomenik
I krst
Iznad nas.
...

Kad smo oslobodili Beograd
odvedoše nas u crkvu Ružicu
Da se pričestimo.
Ali pop ne da pričesnu užicu
Dok se ne ispovedimo.

Mene upita
Jesi li ubio
Jesam
Rekoh
A on
Vojniče
Što si to učinio?

Stuštio se na mene ubilac
Iznakažen
Zapaljene glave
Ispamećen
Isplažen
Krvnikovim očima me gledao.

Mora da sam tako
I ja sam izgledao.
Pucao sam
Kao u ogledalo.

Do sad sam mislio
Da sam ga ubio.
Ali čim sam ovamo ukročio
Uvideh da otad on živi u meni
I da je ovde u crkvi Ružici
Iz mojih usta i progovorio.

Da se nikad ne sazna
Ko je koga ubio
...

Als wir Belgrad befreit hatten,
Führten sie uns in die Ružica-Kirche
Zum Abendmahl.
Und der Pope reichte uns die Hostie nicht,
Solange wir nicht gebeichtet hatten.

Mich fragte er
Hast du getötet?
Ja, sagte ich.
Und er:
Warum hast du das getan, Soldat?

Ein Totschläger stürzte sich auf mich,
Verzerrt
Mit hochrotem Kopf, nicht bei Sinnen,
Mit hängender Zunge.
Er blickte mich an mit blutrünstigen Augen.

So muß auch ich
Ausgesehen haben.

Da hab ich geschossen
Wie in einen Spiegel.

Bis jetzt glaubte ich
Ich hätte ihn getötet.

Doch kaum trat ich hier ein,
Da sah ich, er lebt in mir.

Und er hat hier in der Ružica-Kirche
Aus meinem Mund gesprochen.

Auf daß niemand erfährt,
Wer wen getötet hat.
...

Matija Bećković Biography

Matija Bećković OSS (Serbian Cyrillic: Матија Бећковић, pronounced ; born 29 November 1939) is a Serbian writer and poet. He is a full member of the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts. Bećković was born in Senta, in the multiethnic province of Vojvodina (then Danube Banate, Kingdom of Yugoslavia), to a military family of Montenegrin Serbs. He graduated from the Valjevo Gymnasium in Valjevo in 1958. It was during his gymnasium years in Valjevo that he published his first poem, in the journal 'Mlada Kultura'. Furthermore, it was also in Valjevo that Bećković met Vera Pavladoljska, to whom the poem of the same name, published in 1960, was dedicated. Beckovic went on to marry Pavladoljska, and he remained married to her until her death. Upon graduating from the Valjevo gymnasium, he entered the University of Belgrade, graduating with a degree in Yugoslav and world literature. He became a corresponding member of the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts in 1983, becoming a full member in 1991. Bećković is a close friend of Serbian former Prime Minister Vojislav Koštunica, and an active supporter of his Democratic Party of Serbia. He has been living in Belgrade since 1960. On the Montenegrin independence referendum, 2006, Bećković did not have a right to vote since he lives in Serbia. However, as a prominent Serb nationalist he fiercely advocated against Montenegrin independence, actively supporting the losing option during the pre-referendum campaign. A distinguishing feature of Bećković's poetry is its regionalism. Distinctly Serbian archaic dialect and phraseology permeate his work. This aspect of his work is most often lost when one reads it in translation.)

The Best Poem Of Matija Bećković

Dagger

A famous tale
From the far north
Says hunters of wolves
Dip a double-bladed dagger
In fresh bold
Plant the hilt in ice
And leave it in the snowy wild

The hungry wolf
Whiffs the blood from afair
Especially in the pure sharp air
Beneath the high and icy stars
And quickly finds the bloody lure.

Licking up the frozen cloths
he cuts his meaty tongue
And laps his own warm blood
From off the hard cold blade.

And he will not stop
Until he collapses
Bloated with his own blood.

If wolves are like this
Heard to hunt as they are
Then what about the people
And even whole nations
Especially ours
That can't get enough
Of our own blood
And would sooner die out
Than come to se
That a bloody dagger
Will be all
The monument
And cross
That is left
Above us.

Translated by Ann C. Bigelow

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