Luca Kozina's poetry has been widely published in journals and magazines (Zarez, Fantom Slobode, Mogućnosti, The Split Mind, KnjiževnostUživo, Avlija, Libartes, Nema, Kultipraktik). With a degree in Croatian language and literature and Philosophy she also writes book reviews for Booksa.hr literary portal.
About her work:
"For me, writing is a breath of fresh air. A glance from another perspective. An exercise of the brain cells. My motto in writing is brevity, simplicity, and a few poetic details here and there. At the moment, I am most at ease with very short stories - flash fiction- and poems. Guess this is so because generally I think in images and associations. Also, some of my favorite writers are short story writers such as Jorge Luis Borges, Katherine Mansfield, Oscar Wilde, Franz Kafka, Carson McCullers etc. My big wish is to write a (short) novel, so I am exploring ways of fleshing out and expanding my existing stories."
O svom radu Luca Kozina kaže:
"Pisanje je za mene dašak osvježenja od svakodnevnih briga. Pogled iz druge perspektive. Vježbanje moždanih vijuga. Moj motto u pisanju je kratkoća, jednostavnost i poneki poetični detalj. Trenutno mi najviše odgovaraju jako kratke priče - flash fiction- i pjesme. Mislim da je to i zato što općenito razmišljam u slikama i asocijacijama, a i neki od mojih najdražih pisaca su pisci kratkih priča (J.L.Borges, Katherine Mansfield, Oscar Wilde, Franz Kafka, Carson McCullers...) Velika mi je želja napisati (kratki) roman, tako da trenutno istražujem načine razrađivanja i širenja svojih postojećih priča."
O sebi kaže:
"Rođena 1990. Diplomirala hrvatski jezik i književnost/filozofiju u Splitu. Bila član uredništva časopisa studenata Filozofskog fakulteta u Splitu The Split Mind. Objavljivala prozu i poeziju u časopisima Zarez, Fantom Slobode, Mogućnosti, The Split Mind i na internetskim stranicama KnjiževnostUživo, Avlija, Libartes, Nema, Kultipraktik. Pišem književne kritike za portal Booksa."
Hero
Live with the fact that your life is easy. Wax plugging your ears, eyes cataracted, smug as a bug in a rug. You use your fingers and toes to count the money you didn't earn.
Face it, you're a hero of our time.
Heroj
Prihvati činjenicu da ti je život lagan. U ušima smola, na očima mrena, bubrezi ti u loju. Izbrojati znaš prste na rukama i novac koji nisi zaradio.
Ti si heroj ovog vremena.
*
When Sunday happens everybody's surprised. Their faces go dim as if to question the day: What am I supposed to do? What am I to think? How am I to love? Must I soak my feet in a washbowl of violets? May I listen to songs of beached whales, the infinity of the universe, or Autumn dusk? Or just crawl in between the sheets lie on my side and mesmerize the wall?
*
Kada se dogodi nedjelja svi su začuđeni. Lica im izgledaju kao da je pitaju što mi je raditi? Što misliti? Kako voljeti? Moram li prati noge u lavoru punom ljubičica? Smijem li slušati pjesme o pomorima kitova, neizmjernosti svemira, jesenskim predvečerjima? Ili se uvući se među plahte, leći na bok i zuriti u zid?
Love is Death
No palpitations of the heart. Hands are cold. No glow in the eyes. Stomach's empty. Heels don't match the rhythm of tango. Under a streetlight No one waits for anyone.
Ljubav je smrt
Nema uzlupalog srca. Ruke su hladne. U očima nema sjaja. Želudac prazan, potpetice ne prate ritam tanga. Pod lampom Nitko nikoga ne čeka.
*
I wonder if there is enough air in me to produce a voice, or a scream. Sinking fingernails in my palms is the only act of rebellion available and that won't change anytime soon. But what if I jump on the table and stick my fingernails in some faces? What if I collect and then let out all that air demonstrating just how loud I can be? These are my fantasies, this is my act of rebellion.
What do I do? The air gathered in my lungs stings, I guess, the air waiting on the other side of my mouth hurts even more. Ladies and gentlemen, dear children, dear colleagues, dear passers-by, dear past, dear present, dear future, I will bite my split lips, take in that air scream into your faces and once and for all abandon the pain.
*
Pitam se ima li u meni zraka za proizvesti glas, ili vrisak, barem. Nokte utiskujem u dlanove to je moja jedina pobuna i dugo će tako ostati. Što ako skočim na stol i zabijem im nokte u lica? Što ako skupim i ispustim iz sebe sav taj zrak i pokažem koliko mogu biti glasna? To su moje jedine maštarije, to je moja jedina pobuna.
Što da radim? Zrak nakupljen u plućima me bode Zrak koji čeka s druge strane mojih usta mislim da boli još više. Draga gospodo, draga djeco, dragi kolege, dragi prolaznici, draga prošlosti, draga sadašnjosti, draga budućnosti, zagrist ću svoje raspucale usne, udahnuti taj zrak zavrištati vam u lice i jednom zauvijek odbaciti svu bol.
Translated from Croatian by NGiORwDAC
