P O E
S I A
copyright © Linda Maria Baros.
May not be reproduced without
permission.
Photo Jan H. Mysjkin.
Linda Maria
Baros
poésie
en serbe / poetry in serbian
Linda Maria
Baros, born in Romania on the 6th of August 1981, is a
francophone author who lives in Paris.
She has published five collections of
poems, two plays, and two literary studies. Her three most recent books of
poetry were published in France by Cheyne éditeur:
Le Livre de signes
et d'ombres (The Book of Signs and Shadows), winner of the
Poetical Calling Prize 2004,
La Maison en lames de
rasoir (The House Made of Razor Blades), winner of the
Apollinaire Prize 2007, and
L’Autoroute A4 et autres
počmes (The Highway A4 and other poems), 2009.
Linda Maris
Baros has also translated about twenty books. In 2008, she created La
Bibliothčque Zoom, a virtual library that includes over 125 authors whom she
translated and published into French or Romanian.
In Romania, she is the
initiator and the organizer of the Spring of Poets Festival (which takes
place in 55 cities) and the director of the literary review
VERSUs/m.
In Paris, she is the general assistant
secretary of the La Nouvelle Pléiade Association, the assistant
secretary of the Romanian Translators’ Association and the poetry editor
of Seine et Danube review.
Currently, she is a researcher
at the Sorbonne, Paris IV, where she is a PhD candidate in Comparative
Literature.
Iz zbirke
Autocesta A4 i druge pesme (L'Autoroute A4 et autres počmes),
Cheyne Editeur , 2009
PREDGRADA, DRSKA PREDGRADA…
I tako me ti to
voliš, iz daleka,
kroz durbine svog uva, zacepljenog
elektricnim
mravinjacima.
Do tebe - mislila sam - ima dve sitne kiše.
Ali si
ove noci umetnuo izmedu nas
drska predgrada, velike silose
koji lice na
kantu za smece, na tampaxe,
sa oksidovanim ekspanderom
gde free
runnersi
prave špage iznad geto blokova
i lokalne lutalice sa pogledom
perforatora
bodu se iglama, šmrcu, svejedno,
gde reketaši, bitange
brazdaju prostor,
se okace tu u grozdovima in dugo urlaju.
Ove noci
si izmedu nas umetnuo predgrada
i zbrisao.
Pobegao si - cinilo mi se -
kao ogroman jelen
koji živi jedino dok trci...
- Kao metro...
prošaptao si mi
u elektricne durbine mog uva
...kao metro
koji dostigne poslednju stanicu
i tamo ostavi jednu putnicu;
njegovi
tockovi mlitavo padnu na bok,
njegova glava brloži se u
prašini...
DVE OSTRICE
Ponekad se gubiš, na hridima od voska, do
providnosti.
Secaš se pariskih jutra,
nestaju
na pužu
arondismana.
Njihovog svetlucavog ispiranja uma.
Mirabojevog mosta
samoce.
Cvrsto se držim za rukave predgrada,
sa obrazima blistavim od
kremena.
Destilovana u serpentinastoj retorti
metroa, u njegovom zovu
sfingioniste.
Rušiš se pod njihovim znacenjima. Emituješ
dim.
I ujutru, opet jutro, kao što šaren pacov,
kojeg vrebaju
psi,
pomoli svoju ružicastu, vlažnu njušku u vrtove maslina.
I osvetli
kratki put, koji treba još proci.
Preveli Barbara Pogacnik i
Miša Pasujevic
