TANJA AJTIC

 

Eternal Curse

 

We like to emphasize splendor, significance, reputation and fame

rather than modesty, contrition and true love.

We want to give one thing a relief that catches the eye,

to be particularly emphasized.

And if we have relief maps, we don't know how to measure.

We wander and saunter at night.

At night without dreams.

We postpone forgiveness and omissions.

We are postponing our payment deadline,

we also want to have a discount while we are paying,

and we would like to do everything to make it cheaper.

And paradise is not bought but deserved.

 

If we return everything we took

and wish forgiveness of sins, mercy and forgiveness,

to be forgiven we will feel the same.

After the main flowering, the flowers will bloom once again.

And we will survive.

Like being born again

the revival of classical antiquity

or more precisely freedom

and the creative human spirit under the influence of classical literature,

of art and philosophy in the Renaissance.

 

We will renew our lives

and fix and change it for the better.

We will refresh and rejuvenate.

We will look at hummingbirds that have bigger brain

in relation to the body of other birds.

Heart too.

These birds can fly

in all directions, as they please!

They can live for a long time by feeding on

flower nectar and candied water.

We, like them, are small but a lot is expected of us.

 

Rejection and refusal,

as a musical repetition of the same tone, the

opposite is an echo.

Everything will resonate.

 

Rejection and refusal happen to us

like breaks in a circus that clowns fill with their jokes.

We avoid the eternal curse

because there is always hope for a corrective exam

and a place under the sun for us.

We can be dignified,

be those who produce again,

which recreate.

We can multiply and experience

content to revive consciousness,

get a good voice again

for the person and respect, reputation and name.

 

It is never too late for natural things

to make us feel better.

It's all in us

in our big hearts in the body of a small hummingbird.

We have everything you need!

Naturally!

 

Dreaming, Maybe Living?

 

Life is like a cycle,

like a circle,

somewhere we die and

somewhere we grow

again,

every day a new day is

different and with us

renewed,

it is never the same,

it is cyclical,

reincarnation

every day,

we knew in the old world

live from beginning,

to end,

and then all over again

in a circle into the vortex of the world,

after a dream that is over,

into a new dream,

with open eyes.

 

Better Man

 

We pray for liberation from the fulfillment

of the promise given under forced oath.

We are people even where

the law may not always be applied

in a case that is of an exceptional nature.

Like a wild animal who has escaped

and who is coming back

and moving back after all.

Like in card games where we offer money

more than others.

We fall back, stumble and slip again,

and fall into the old mistake again.

Everything is relative.

It all relates to something.

Everything is relative altitude

as opposed to absolute altitude.

The height of the hill from some point

at its base to the top.

Relative terms that arise only from

the comparison of one subject with another.

So do we, we compare and weigh.

Our relationship and our relations as

in a musical space for an interval.

For us, only the prominent and concise

scream from our soul is significant and important.

Our soul that says:

“Enough! We want our lives back!”.

Purified from sin, we will create a better Man

and we will no longer need actors.

 

Oh, Love

 

Oh, love, almighty love,

you who lift us up

to the heavenly heights

and the one who breaks us on

hard ground, scatter us.

 

Oh, love, strong sincere love,

where we surrender before you,

where all the secrets we reveal,

where we become innocent,

children.

 

Love, where everything revolves around us,

both the world and we in the world,

in a whirlwind, in happiness indescribable,

in the sorrow we haven't gotten over you

hold us and with a scream of pleasure

you fill our chests

and with a scream of pain we die with you.

Oh, love...

 

There's no indifference there,

no mediocrity, no lies,

sincere love,

there's no pretending,

there we get crushed by emotions,

passion,

there we completely give ourselves,

there we give ourselves in eruptions

of all we have ever felt.

 

Love, you who move the world,

you who are the originator of everything,

someone and sin,

you rule hearts

and we cannot resist you...

Because we always want you, love.

 

And you come suddenly,

you come when we don't expect you,

there, around the corner,

you're lurking and when you meet us,

when you surprise us,

to you we are left only,

and ready to everything share

with the other

loved being,

we are ready for sacrifices

and heroism,

for great words that come

from our lips,

from our belly and heart,

from the throat, from the body,

in vibrating sounds,

in a time that cannot be

waited any more,

we're eager to see what brings

a new day, and this now,

this now in love,

in this present time

of, maybe, losers...

 

Oh, love,

almighty love,

mercy we ask you for,

may your light last

as long

as possible

in this, our, darkness.

 

Loneliness

 

Thin is the connection between

all those who were and were not, vague.

Relying on the ideals of the past,

I spread the story of imperfection.

I call my exes for salvation,

and I feel the coldness of the earthen wall.

Don't tell me what to do, loneliness is biting my toenails.

Not about poise, because I'm going to start

begging for friendship.

The corpse pushed me into oblivion of my path.

And there is no more place for me in any horde. I am alone.

Don't tell me anything, you can't help me because

it's a dark world in which he struggles. My nights are sad.

All my former and forgotten things and stories.

All my former and forgotten friends, are gone.

Unknown faces are walking the streets,

where I don't recognize anyone from the past,

and I knew quite a few of them.

At the familiar name, a spark in my heart ignites,

and I remember everything that was.

And I remain alone with despair, if I could. But I didn't.

Forgotten for years.

Buried in four walls, in four white walls,

in the square, at the intersection of the tearful streets

and the weeping sky.

You come to the infinity of dissatisfaction.

I hear the blunt impact of the skull against the white wall.

It doesn't hurt.

I struggle with the fog and in the murky water of time.

Will I die alone or will I sprout?

 

 TANJA AJTIC