There Would Be No Poem
"If it
weren't for your eyes"*
I would never
know
What your
thoughts hide
Mysterious
gestures
They wouldn't
confuse me
Like unannounced
storms
Or a gloomy
dawn.
"If it
weren't for your eyes"
Everything would
be darker
More
meaningless, predictable,
Every morning
the same
The day would
repeat
Like a
recognizable scenography
That doesn't
hint at drama
Or an unexpected
outcome.
They brighten it
up,
Everything
becomes more meaningful
The day blooms
like a magnolia
That the night
shines in its cups
All secrets fit
in them
Like your hints
Remain unspoken.
"If it weren't for your eyes"
What would the
twilight whisper to the night
How, dazed
by a spell of
foreboding
I could go to
meet the dawn
Full of
mysteries, like you,
To convey to it
the glow
What your eyes
hide.
"If it
weren't for your eyes"
No poem would be
More real!
*
"If it
weren't for your eyes", Vasko Popa
The Illusion Is Realizing
Time is an
illusion,
Impression is
the most important illusion!
Does it matter
what really happens
When the power
of illusion is at work?
The scenery is
skillfully assembled,
Impression is
the meaning,
They serve
numerous purposes
(Impression is
the most important illusion)
Cameras record
moments,
(Everything is
foreseen by the synopsis)
Impression
triumphs!
When they fade
away, the illusion remains
It spreads
through the media
And then comes
to life
As if it were
really happening,
Impression is
multiplied,
But no one
returns to what they did before!
Morning gives
birth to new illusions!
Home To Myself
Others knew
before me,
Felt, valued,
Accepted that
What I carried
without knowing
Like a hidden
treasure
Given by God
To multiply it,
Soul, a
primordial source,
Awakened thirst
Recognized the
call -
Creativity
climbed.
Steeps, drifts,
gullies
Everything stood
in my way,
Instinctively I
floated in the torrent,
Fought with my
strength
To overcome
obstacles
To stay on my
path
I didn't even
know about others
I was all me, my
own home,
And when I fell
and got up
That something
inside me guided me
(Guarded me from
experiencing a breakdown)
And when I sank
into the deepest abyss
It pulled me
out, it was a lamp
It encouraged
me, (healed) me!
Without a trace
I served
My chosen one,
goodness,
Vowed to beauty
I overlooked the
world's scorn
I searched for a
bright face,
Divine, to
strengthen
The embankment,
stop
Those with evil
intentions.
And now that I
know the value
And the meaning
of everyone's stumbling
I humbly observe
the world
Immune to traps,
tricks,
Vanity, greed of
the proud,
Adored and erect
I humbly submit
a verse!
MILICA JEFTIMIJEVIĆ LILIĆ
MILICA JEFTIMIJEVIĆ LILIĆ, Serbian
poet, prose writer and literary critic. She is an honorary doctor of literature
from the European Institute for Roma Studies, an academician of the Slavic
Academy in Varna, a member of the Serbian Writers' Association, of which she
was vice-president. She is the author of 35 books, poetry, prose and essays.
Her books have been translated into dozens of foreign languages. She lives in
Belgrade.

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