BORCE
PANOV
What Did Charlie Ch.
See From The Upside Down
Here
comes Charliе Ch. winded as a toy
- You, idiot/ he whispers to me/
and he
turns himself upside down all of а sudden
and he
hooks himself with his long feet on the tightrope,
he lets
my blood flow unstoppably on the wire of a nerve fibre
he
sharply lifts the tails of his little tailcoat
one by
one
with the
kicks of his heels
he
becomes a dot among the dots...
What did
Charlie Ch. see from the upside down?
We were
eating fish – he was carefully sucking the bones of the shoe
/I – the
tacks of the sheefish/
we were
throwing the remaining to the garbage cans
which
were hopping from the orgasm-m-m-m-m-m of the cats
- Hurry up, Charlie, hurry up
A volcano
that turns into typhoon
(you don’t
see it) your foot is stuck on the floor with a chewing gum,
and it is
already clear that it is a giant from the waist to the head
and he is
shooting at us, oh, he is shooting at us from the distance!
- Hurry up, Charlie, detach yourself! Free
yourself!
What?
You are
in love. Such a mess! You are in love Charlie
/the head
of your soul is out of the skull/
A black
rock, a sad one
is
hovering in my head, right now, Charlie
The
typewriter is beating out of my heart,
and the
sheet is hopelessly white, although electricity went off...
Although
electricity is gone I know that deep down in the white
I feel
My blood
is close/ to the other side/ And it is time for me to wake up,
although
I don’t know where...
You...
You may have been laughing from the upside down, haven’t you, Charlie?
Black-And-White Rushing Town
With left
and right epilepsy
of the
lashes
all in
love
on your
knees, you fall, Charlie,
in a
rush, in a rush
abandoned
with the
left and the right fly
quickly,
quickly
/or with
a faintheartedness too fast/
you
juggle
with the
cheekbones in the black-and-white rushing town
------
all of a sudden
Caught
Rolled
over by the great
Mechanism
/levers, gearwheels, springs
and so
on/
you
salute from the full-blooded Firer
with
toothbrush moustache /identically overlapped/
with a
balloon in which the world is inflated
you
juggle, you salute, you juggle /stand straight and
tuck your
stomach in!/ juggle Charlie
while the
gravitation is hovering
and the
laughter is blowing us
and until
the world bursts - - - - - and I /what I?!/
where am
I /?/
- Well,
here you are, here – between the right
And the
left fly Charlie
On Earth As It Is In Heaven
I pulled
the thinnest emberlike twig
that
spreads warmth in the darkest room
of this
winter with white snowflakes
that are
about to bloom -
on earth
as it is in heaven.
The twig
pulled the branch full of fruits
in the
time in which we exist not ripened
to die
nor for another birth –
on earth
as it is in heaven.
The
branch pulled the root out with the whole time,
the root
pulled the ground, and I asked the ground
to
forgive me and to give me back all my inconsistent “I”
in just a
moment of a wonderful day –
on earth
as it is in heaven.
It was
the thinnest twig with sun without buds
that I
pulled gently
for my
mind not to stop because of the
nonexistence
and I wished for the future to exist –
on earth
as it is in heaven.
The Leviathan Of My Sigh Of Flame
is this
mountain silent on the isotypes of the fear –
no, that
has nothing to do with the night;
is this
wind silent with the wild cold moon –
no, no
that has nothing to do with the wolf’s whining;
is this
fire silent with all of its paths leading towards itself –
no, that
has nothing to do with the darkness;
is this
thunder released by the pupil silent –
no that
has nothing to do with the day;
is the
mosaic of lights far away from my home silent -
no, no,
that has nothing to do with the city;
are the
memories awakened by the uterus of the dream silent,
no, that
has nothing to do with the mornings’ tranquility;
are my
friends in front of the TV silent –
no, no,
that has nothing to do
with the
electrons that fizzle in an absent time;
is the
clear thought of this sky silent,
skinned
and pulled out as a lamb’s skin –
no, that
has nothing to do with the blue and the soft white clouds;
is the
consciousness like a segment in the time silent –
no, no,
that has nothing to do
with the
boundlessness of our repeated awakenings;
is the
peace of ancient sapphire
grinned
with the angles of a new aesthetics silent –
no, that
has nothing to do with the Sun’s braking,
no, that
has nothing to do with the fidelity, the wisdom and the modesty,
nor with
the pain, the conciliation and the eternal life;
are the
rings with which we are vividly bind in the chain silent
no, that
has nothing to do with the freedom, nor with the justice;
is the
sword silent, the sword that is the closest to the wisdom –
no, no,
that has nothing to do with the wolf gone wild from the blood
that
follows us on the isotypes of the fear –
no, no,
that has nothing to do with the mountain, nor with the fire
towards
whom all of the paths are leading,
but only
one that is inside shows us the humanity;
is my
leviathan silent between the water and the fire –
no, no
that has nothing to do with taking away of the breath,
that has
to do only with my sigh of flame...
Today, A Man Should Remember
Today, a
man should remember
to turn
off the mobile phone, the computer and
the
internet,
the
television, the wars, the murders, the tsunami,
the
nuclear power plants that are leaking radioactivity,
the
gigantic mutations of the molluscs
tossed on
the shore by a totally new evolution,
the
little and the big dictators
that
juggle with the fossils of the history
like with
decapitated human heads
that
stare into our eyes shamelessly
and tell
us jokes about Houdini,
and then
- the polar vortex
that
stops the game of the lakes’ waves,
and
carves the iconostasis of the frozen Dante’s hell, in the waterfalls,
and then
- the ozone holes and the light that
turns us into ashes
like a
film tape with the Sun that we have given up long time ago,
and then
- the digital alarm clock,
the
shaving machine and the alarms –
simply –
all the electronics around us,
in which
we dive deep into like electrons in binary numbers
that tell
us on the monitors like inconsistent many samples of “I”,
except –
If he
could remember to replace the pacemakers’ battery
on time,
if his
heart is weak.
Then, he
could forget the time
and make
his first footprints on the innocence of
the snow…
TRANSLATED FROM
MACEDONIAN TO ENGLISH
BY DANIELA
ANDONOVSKA-TRAJKOVSKA:
BORCE
PANOV
BORCE
PANOV was born on September 27, 1961 in Radovish, The
Republic of North Macedonia. He graduated from the ''Sts. Cyril and Methodius''
University of Skopje in Macedonian and South Slavic Languages (1986). He has
been a member of the “Macedonian Writers’ Association” since 1998. He has
published: a) poetry: “What did Charlie Ch. See from the Back Side of the
Screen” (1991), “The Cyclone Eye” (1995), “Stop, Charlie” (2002), “The Tact”
(2006), “The Riddle of Glass” (2008), “The Basilica of Writing” (2010),
“Mystical Supper” (2012), “Vdah (The Breathe of Life)” (2014), “The Human
Silences” (2016), “Uhania” (2017), “Shell” (2018); and several essays and
plays: “The Fifth Season of the Year” (2000), “The Doppelgänger Town” (2011),
“A Dead-end in the Middle of an Alley” (2002), “Homo Soapiens” (2004), “Catch
the Sleep-walker” (2005), “Split from the Nose Down” (2006), and “The Summertime
Cinema” (2007). He has also poetry books published in other languages:
“Particles of Hematite” (2016 - in Macedonian and Bulgarian), “Vdah” (2017 – in
Slovenian), “Balloon Shaving” (2018 – Serbian), and “Fotostiheza”
(“Photopoesis, 2019 – Bulgarian). His poetry was published in a number of
anthologies, literary magazines and journals both at home and abroad, and his
works are translated into English, Ukrainian, Slovenian, Serbian, Croatian,
Bulgarian, French, Catalonian, Mongolian, Albanian, Romanian, Polish, Chinese,
and Danish language. Panov
works as the Counselor for Culture and Education at the municipality of
Radovish, and he is also Arts Coordinator for the “International Karamanov’s
Poetry Festival”, held in Radovish annually. Poetry
from Borce Panov
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