Wednesday, August 1, 2018




It was Sunday,
the day for reveries
from the tower toward the sky.

And it did occur.
The long-waited sparkle
descended and burst
into flame within them.

until then dressed
in costumes, veils,
started dancing naked
broken free of all fetters.
They entered the very essence of things.
And everything was easily named.
They repeated Adam's act,
meanings and forms fused.
The dazing impact
of the said
opening a maze.

The liberated passion
flew high
up to dangerous borders.
The word heated better than fire,
better than the touch.

Eve hurled the apple


My clairvoyant hands,
as hot as a sorcerer's hands
set in motion by thought
touch the chosen thing,
it is them that have encountered you.
Seeing better than the eyes
they impeccably guide me,
Logos always appeals to me.

I write down a word or two
and the rainbow gives a flash
fusing two violent waters
aware of the might of the said.
It shoots them through to the bottom
integrated by the force of origins.
Out of the overheated core
sterling flows over
with a deep trail.

I touch letters one by one,
they spread energy with ease.
Receiving it you light up –
you open all doors
to me – a woman.
And you do not know what breaks you:
either the touch of fire or the might of the said
that defeated you at once.
Or the secret of the being from afar
that flashes when fusing with you.


With a single move
I break the thread of everyday life
with no sense or joy. . .
I receive the sound from afar
and I am at once there
a part of a strange language, rhythm
so different from mine,
from my intimate emptiness,
I get excited
and start swinging,
my body fuses with that distance,
with that Other that suits me.

And I do know that out of that sound
the layers of the being travelling
through time speak,
and I take it with my body, with my mind,
and set in motion I glitter
in the universality of the world,
in that strange truth
of my destiny
over which I keep vigil
worriedly like mother.
But it floods everything
and rules
sometimes making
gentle utterances
with harmonious sounds
created by the passion of an individual,
and belonging to all of us
wherever we are
so remote in everything.

Yes, I tell myself
(then my fulfilled destiny keeps silence),
you are a part of mankind
united by the passion of
not of war campaigns, of hate,
for they divide.

BY LAZAR MACURA            

MILICA JEFTIMIJEVIĆ LILIĆ was born at Lovac near Banjska, Kosovo & Metohija, on August 28, 1953. She graduated at the Faculty of Philosophy in Priština, and won a master's degree in philological sciences at the University of Belgrade. She was a professor at the University of  Priština, and editor on Belgrade TV. She has published the following collections of poems: Dark, Salvation (1955), The Hibernation (1998), The Travelogue of the Skin (2003), and a collection of stories The Subject-matter of the Case (2002). She has also published books of criticism: Poetics of the Premonition (2004), The Epsistomlogical Illuminations (2007), Critical Roots and Ranges (2011), The Exactness of the Secret (2012)…Partenon buildings of stars, (poetry) ,Arka Smederevo , Stari Kolašin,Zbin Potok, 2015… She also writes stories for children which have been published in Children's Papers, Jedinstvo, and other newspapers. Shi is representedin many anthologies and has many literary awards of national importance  as international...Her poems  and pieces of criticism have been translated into Russian, English, Italian, German, French, Hungarian,Macedonian, Turkish, Swedish, Polish and Arabic....more than 25 lenguages of world. She  was vice President of the Association of writers of Serbia, a member of literary society of writers of Kosovo and Metohija and a member of the Association of Journalists of Serbia. Lives in Belgrade since 1999.

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