The news via and from LoC, say that first Serbian Poet laureate joins a long line of distinguished US poets. Charles Simic (b.1938, Belgrade) moved in the 60′s to US and began his career working at the Chicago Sun Times. More about his work and selected bibliography here.

This summer’s refreshments in the city, for those who are staying, are culture, music, art, design. Van the Man, Irish singer & songwriter, author, poet, artist with rich biography, known officially as Van Morrison, who is on tour, and is coming to Belgrade, on September 21st. The concert will take place to Pionir Hall. Are you in?

I guess I am now in a bit poetic siesta-do-not-move-plus-40-celsius-no-air-mood, remembering one of my favourits by Oscar Wilde.
“Yet each man kills the thing he loves, from all let this be heard. Some does it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word. The coward does it with a kiss the brave man with the sword.”

I am back from May day holiday, resting my eyes in green, no gadgets but my cell + PDA , no wireless, nothing, just nature, and in the middle of my ‘lazy few days ‘I’ve been interviewed by specialized ILS magazine on what is going on in Serbia considering the usage of IT and Web 2.0 forms in certain areas, there were talking about blogs as well. Can’t wait to see the preview before printing. Beside lot of emails that I will reply tomorrow as well (time management & priorities-> that is why I stay now very late and will wake up early to make things done by tomorrow afternoon) I got one unusual and very inspirational email, complementary I would say from E-LIS OA, a phd colleague from IT area on what I write, blog, etc. I knew I was responsible by feeding many souls in this E or better B-shere, and that my hits are decreasing as subscriptions to B&B are increasing, but as I mentioned many times in my Science blogging lecture before holidays, comments and interaction ‘make it’, as supervisor asked: why do we need blogs when we have web site? So, do comment in public – sometimes, often. Not here, but in general. E-mails are nice…but open feedback is even nicer. And as tomorrow I’ll upload nature photographs at Flicker, this is pre-May Day Haiku from my office, creation and idea by one of the colleagues.

On todays World Poetry Day, UNESCO pays tribute to great poet, Pablo Neruda.I will pay tribute to my favourite Serbian writer – Milos Crnjanski and Sumatra.

Sumatra

Sad smo bezbrižni, laki i nežni.
Pomislimo: kako su tihi, snežni
vrhovi Urala.

Rastuži li nas kakav bledi lik,
što ga izgubismo jedno veèe,
znamo da, negde, neki potok,
mesto njega, rumeno teèe!

Po jedna ljubav, jutro, u tuðini,
dušu nam uvija, sve tešnje,
beskrajnim mirom plavih mora,
iz kojih crvene zrna korala,
kao, iz zavièaja, trešnje.

Probudimo se noæu i smešimo, drago,
na Mesec sa zapetim lukom.
I milujemo daleka brda
i ledene gore, blago, rukom.

====

“Sumatra”

Now we are carefree, light and tender.
We just think: how quiet are the snowy
peaks of the Urals.
If a pale figure makes us sad,
the one we lost to an evening,
we also know that somewhere, instead of it a rivulet
flows and is all red.
Each love, each morning in a foreign land
envelops our soul closer by its hand
in an endless tranquility of blue seas,
in which red corals glitter
like the cherries of my homeland.
We wake at night and sweetly smile
at the Moon with its bent bow
and we caress those distant hills
and the icy mountains with our tender hand.

# ? #, originally uploaded by Kreša.

what strikes me these days…

A chi?
Le prime nocciole ad agosto. Erica. Nebbia.
Il sole non è che il codrione d’un pulcino
in mezzo a due monti.
Con moine la musica dei legni d’un boschetto
adulava il fogliame imporporato
e, vinta, se la prende col vento usando il vento.
Si sta bene qui. Qualcosa
attinge di nuovo vita nella vita.
Vorresti comunicarlo,
soltanto che non sai a chi -
e altri non ce ne sono…

To whom
Early august hazelnuts. Heather. Fog.
The sun is nothing but the rump of a chick
Settled between two peaks.
The music of a thicket wheedled the turning purple leaves,
And, vanquished, it ticked off the wind with wind.
Everything is fine here. Something draws life again in your life.
You would communicate it,
but you don’t know to whom –
and there’s nobody else…