• Sara Kopeczky

Cities: Sara Kopeczky


"Words That (Do Not) Sound According to Their Meaning", a poem by young Croatian poet Sara Kopeczky could be just that poetic primer an eager student of Croatian language might be looking for. Then again, it is also a prime example of what all poetry should be doing - in it Sara unboxes words (re)balancing sound and meaning. By opening both the language and the self (of the author? of the reader?), Sara's poems air out the mundane and allow the unexpected to enter.

Prose and poetry of Sara Kopeczky (b. 1992 in Zagreb) has been included in anthologies and published in online and print journals. Holding degrees in English and Italian language and literature, Sara is on the editorial board of The Split Mind, journal of literature and culture, as well as a member of Novi književni val (New Literary Wave), a literary collective from Split.

Sara Kopeczky rođena je 1992. u Zagrebu. Diplomirana je profesorica anglistike i talijanistike. Trenutno živi u Splitu. Prozu i poeziju objavljivala je u časopisima, zbornicima i na portalima. Pobijedila je na natječaju Pučke knjižnice i čitaonice Daruvar za najljepše ljubavno pismo. Ušla je u širi izbor za pjesničku nagradu "Na vrh jezika". Članica je uredništva časopisa za književnost i kulturu The Split Mind. Dio je Novog Književnog Vala, književne skupine nastale iz škole kreativnog pisanja pod vodstvom prof. Irene Delonge Nešić.

U pjesmama koje ovdje predstavljamo u izvorniku i u prijevodu na engleski jezik Sara Kopeczky veže smirenost uz snagu stvarajući onaj sasvim pjesnički, sasvim nasušni osjećaj bezvremenosti koji je potrebno redovito konzumirati kako bi se zadržala perspektiva postojanja, kako se ne bi zaboravilo da se život doista ne može omeđiti.

The Circle

You hide the burn marks caused by my frost As I whip with my eyes those sobbing children. You bounce off the chameleon obstacle I've set And pretend you've just tripped. You turn the blind eye to the crimes I stubbornly admit even when I'm only about To commit them. Instead of you I condemn myself to a Solitude made of two. I'm not the one Who will in the middle of a yellow park day Shout over the names of your grandfathers Born within a span of two years. I'd rather crush the catacombs of ants Feeling shyly exhibitionistic, I The most indifferent of crybabies. Your gaze follows me with Obedience of a Pavlov dog. Within you I sow restlessness turning a circle into a square But have pity on you and rush To smooth out the sharp edges With my softest touch.

Krug

Skrivaš opekline od moje hladnoće Dok pogledom šibam plačljivu djecu. Odbijaš se o kameleonsku prepreku Pa se praviš da si se sam spotaknuo. Zatvaraš oči pred zločinima koje Uporno priznajem čak i kada ću ih Tek počiniti. Umjesto tebe Samu sebe osuđujem na Samoću u dvoje. Nisam ona Koja će se za žutog dana u parku Nadvikivati s imenima tvojih djedova Rođenih u dvije godine razmaka. Radije rušim mravlje nastambe Sramežljivo egzibicionistički Kao najravnodušnija plačljivica. Tvoj pogled me prati Pavlovljevski pseće. U tebi Sijem nemir krugom koji postaje kvadrat Pa ti se smilujem, žurim izgladiti oštre bridove Najmekšim dodirom.

Before the Flood

When I was not paying attention The air in our apartment turned into water But you cannot figure out Why I don't simply start To breathe with my gills.

I speak, you wait your turn And have no idea about how my day went Though you asked nicely.

I loathe your chest Evenly heaving. You swim while I sink As if not noticing What has come upon us.

Then you falter Stumble Collapse Into the mud, among the shipwrecks All blue, and dead, and proud.

Prije potopa

Dok nisam obraćala pažnju Zrak u našem stanu pretvorio se u vodu A tebi nikako nije jasno Zašto jednostavno ne počnem disati na škrge.

Ja govorim, a ti čekaš svoj red I pojma nemaš kako sam provela dan A lijepo si pitao.

Mrzim tvoja prsa Jer se ravnomjerno podižu. Plivaš dok ja tonem Kao da ne primjećuješ Što nas je snašlo.

A onda posrneš Zateturaš Pa se srušiš U mulj, među olupine Plav i mrtav i ponosan.

A Girl

Ribs stick out through your skin Like spikes on the boots of a teenager Whose favorite word Is Weltschmertz.

You wait for me to learn how to walk So I can give my hand to you. You tread through life in syncopes Of a newly born fawn.

Wrapping yourself in haste As if in your mother's coat On the tip of your toes You trip over tomorrow.

In place of perfume, behind you lingers Slammed door with a note of citrus And a touch of woody melancholy Just beneath the surface.

Protesting against everything That dares to exist without a sordine You play the role of a little girl Dying silently in the snow.

Djevojčica

Rebra strše iz tvoje kože Kao šiljci na čizmama tinejđerice Kojoj je Weltschmerz Najdraža riječ.

Čekaš da naučim hodati Da ti mogu dati ruku. Kročiš kroz život u sinkopama Kao netom rođena srna.

Zamotala si se u žurbu Kao u majčin kaput Pa se vrhovima prstiju Spotaknula o sutra.

Umjesto parfema, za sobom ostavljaš Zalupljena vrata s citrusnom notom I drvenastu melankoliju Netom ispod površine.

U protestu protiv svega Što se usudi postojati bez sordine Igraš se male djevojčice I tihe smrti u snijegu.

Words That (Do Not) Sound According to Their Meaning

The word „dirljivo“ Is not at all touching. It's mushy and slimy Like fallen leaves stomped into a mud pie Sticking to you fingers Which you wipe off with a tissue Stepping back, grimacing And moving on. You try hard to forget Its sticky sweetness That smells of mints Forgotten in a candy dish - Stuck one to another Because no one else Wants them.

***

"Ljubav" is love Of a frog onomatopoeically diving into a pond, As listless and heavy as the universe Blissfully ignorant Of the commotion it has caused.

***

"Srce" is at heart of Something an asp might have hissed Before swiftly slithering away So as not to be noticed So as not to have its head cut off.

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"Tišina" is silence eroding Merely by naming itself Shushing and reprimanding Every brash presence of sound.

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"Prekid" is a break-up An act of breaking before something has really ended A sudden departure form the stage While the show is still on And both the audience and the cast stare in shock As the curtains relentlessly drop.

***

In truth "istina" echoes with equivalency Repeating that my story and yours are virtually the same, Are virtually true. But what if our truths are in fact quite different And merely both equally true?

Riječi koje (ne) zvuče onako kako znače

Riječ „dirljivo“ Nije nimalo dirljiva. Ona je gnjecava i sluzava Kao blato od izgaženog lišća. Lijepi ti se za prste S gađenjem ih brišeš o maramicu Ustukneš uz grimasu I nastaviš dalje. Nastojiš zaboraviti Njenu ljepljivu sladunjavost Koja miriše na mentol bombone Zaboravljene u zdjelici - Lijepe jedan za drugoga Jer ih nitko drugi Ne želi.

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Ljubav kao žaba Onomatopejski zaroni u jezerce Troma i debela kao svemir Blaženo nesvjesna Pomutnje koju je proizvela.

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Srce zvuči kao nešto Što je prosiktala zmija otrovnica A onda hitro odgmizala dalje Da je ne opaze I ne odsijeku joj glavu.

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Tišina narušava samu sebe Vlastitim imenovanjem Šuška i opominje Svaku bezočnu pristutnost.

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Prekid označava Kidanje prije kraja Nagli odlazak s pozornice Dok predstava još traje A publika i glumci iznenađeno gledaju Zastore koji se neumoljivo spuštaju.

***

Istina podsjeća na istovjetnost Govori da su moja i tvoja priča iste Što znači da su istinite. Ali što ako su naše istine različite A obje su jednako istinite?

Cities

Some cities can be downed mid-stride At the bar Like an espresso at the Saint Peter's Square. Some are slowly chewed Tongue lazily moving them inside your mouth While you savor their rolling aroma As if tasting a Mozartkugel. Some cities stick to your stomach Dragging you down - Whenever you think of them You just want to sit on the ground And cry Like a child who has lost her mother in a crowd. But even the tears are denied to you Because cities disappear Before they well up. Some cities Tear up your insides with their skyscrapers Spring up in your throat and pierce your ears You close your eyes, but they, instead of sleeping Rise up even bigger, faster, more distant. Some cities remind you of the past or at least of your notion of what past is. And some reflect on your future, While you're sightseeing They are being born inside of you Building load bearing walls Out of your tendons and bones And grounding themselves In your feet.

Gradovi

Neke gradove ispiješ usput S nogu Kao espresso na trgu Svetoga Petra. Neke žvačeš polagano Lijeno ih premećeš jezikom po ustima I uživaš u njihovom kotrljavom okusu Kao u Mozart kuglama. Neki ti se gradovi zalijepe za želudac I vuku te prema dnu - Kad ih se sjetiš Najradije bi sjeo na zemlju I zaplakao Kao dijete bez majke. Ali ni to ne možeš Jer gradovi nestanu prije Nego što dolaze suze. Neki gradovi Neboderima paraju utrobu Niču ti u grlu i probijaju bubnjiće Sklopiš oči, a oni, umjesto da spavaju Ustaju još veći, još brži, još dalji. Neki gradovi podsjećaju te na prošlost Ili barem na tvoje poimanje iste. A neki na budućnost Dok ih obilaziš Rađaju se u tebi Grade nosive zidove Od tvojih kostiju i hrskavice I temelje se U tvojim stopalima.

Translation by NG&ORwDAC.

Cover photo by Zoran Žmirić.

#SaraKopeczky #Cities #Gradovi #poezija #WordsThatDoNotSoundAccordingtoTheirMeani

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