SILVANA DIMITRIEVSKA

 

Fishing

 

Every summer we went fishing.

A glorious celebration of moments of happiness.

I am a child and I jump after her,

the shadow of my handsome father.

It is very important that I do not miss any, so

I carefully step into his every step,

and I grow like a sky with every one of them.

Me and my father and going fishing.

The sun gilds the water.

It smells like freshly cut four-leaf clover.

The light flight of birds disperses the clouds.

There is nothing to indicate heavy bleeding

of the fish on the hook.

She looks at me with big wide eyes

as she exhales her last breath through her gills.

All the rainbows hidden in the scales

they suddenly darken.

Gray and black. Like a stone. It was a fish, now it is a stone.

Then at night I dream of them for a long time.

My room is gilded with hidden rainbows.

It smells like blood.

I close my eyes so I can't see the hook

that hangs over our heads every night.

We take it out in the morning, hiding another scar

in the place where our gills pulsate invisibly.

 

Her Departure

 

God, in what a beautiful day she left!

The sky cracked like baked bread,

pour out a blessing on men and birds,

and I see you standing with your hand up,

you wave at time and smile at it,

your thought flutters like a wedding handkerchief

in which you bound the forgotten words,

you married your body with the verse

and now you walk all turned into a poem.

God, give me sense, me the foolish one,

because I still dream of your departure.

It seems to me that you never left.

You stand, I see you, beautiful and strong,

you spread your arms, you open your bosoms,

you take a ring out of your hand

to get the day through it,

a dove comes out from under your breast,

you weave black and red thread with your fingers,

you tell me: this is how you will weave

one letter at a time,

grains of letters like grains of wheat

and after each one you will leave a piece of incompleteness,

in that small place of silence to rest your heart.

God, reveal to me the secret

of that magical weaving, of that embroidery of the soul,

of that water rising under my feet that I hear,

because I keep thinking it's her, she's coming

that black-haired sorceress with a black and red thread,

that voice of a secret murmur, that silent lightning of heaven,

comes to sew light upon my sorrow.

 

Breathing

 

Breathe, I tell my son

as his chest rises

in a calm rhythmicity.

You just breathe!

The world stands still while you sleep.

Then he wakes and shakes,

is divided in half

and each of the half’s thinks that

is better than the other.

It will sow seeds of longing in you,

will grow like the apple of strife,

you take a bite, and you'll have it

bitter taste in mouth, lump in throat.

A smile doesn't always mean happiness,

nor shall a tear be the measure of sorrow.

Bread necessary, enough for today,

it will determine the weight of the look of your eyes.

But may your eyes always remain clear.

Like a lantern that keeps only your light.

The road is long and difficult.

The day is coming. Dawn is breaking. The world is shaking.

You just breathe!

 

SILVANA DIMITRIEVSKA

 

SILVANA DIMITRIEVSKA is graduated philologist and journalist. She was the coordinator of the literary circle 'Mugri' and the editor of the poetry almanac of the same name. She is represented in the Anthology of recent Macedonian poetry for young people Purpurni izvori by Suzana V. Spasovska, the anthology One Hundred and One Poems, edited by famous Macedonian poetess Svetlana Hristova Jocic, the collection of poetry and short prose by young people from the former Yugoslav territories Manuscript 30. Silvana writes poetry, short prose, essays and haiku verses. She is the author of the anthology Angels with five wings, published as part of Struga evenings of poetry. She appears as a reviewer of several collections of poetry by young authors. She is the winner of the second and third 'Blaze Koneski' prize for a scientific essay. For her first collection of poetry, “You, who came out of a song”, she won the prestige national 'Aco Karamanov' award. For her short story 'Butterfly Skirt' he won the first prize of the contest 'I tell a photo 2021' announced by the Holocaust Fund of the Jews of Macedonia. This year, she won several national and international awards and recognations.