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Tamara Čapelj

Tamara Čapelj rođena je 2. oktobra1969. u Novom Sadu. Do sada je objavila tri zbirke poezije: „Venerina orbita“ (2015), „ŽEljezNA“ (2018) i „Giocondin smiješak“ (2019) te zbirku pripovjedaka „Nevidljivi tragovi“ (2017). Koautor je stručnog lingvističkog priručnika namijenjenog lektorima u zakonodavstvu „Priručnik o najčešće korištenim terminima i izrazima u institucijama BiH“ (2015).

Jedna je od osnivača sarajevskog Udruženja umjetnika Planet Poezija, koje se zalaže za nezavisnost umjetnosti od politike i autonomiju poetskog izraza. S Dinom Porovićem je osmislila i izvodila multimedijalni performans „Lica iz svemira“ iz kategorije poetskog teatra i napisaladva scenarija za dječji festival „Lino-Fest“ (2016. i 2017). Nakon smrti Admirala Mahića, s Dinom Porovićem organizirala je i dva Mađunarodna karavana kantautora i pjesnika „Neretvanske vedrine“ (2016. i 217), te je jedna od autora uvrštenih u recital „Sirija“ (2016). U okviru Planeta Poezije, bavi se organiziranjem poetskih večeri i književnih manifestacija u Sarajevu, a direktorica je međunarodnog festivala „Četiri godišnja doba književnosti“ za Sarajevo i voditeljica sarajevskog ogranka manifestacije „Pjesničkom riječju: Stop nasilju nad ženama“. Do sada je napisala na desetke recenzija i uredila nekoliko knjiga poezije savremenih autora, pokrenula projekt „Ptice od papira“ namijenjen pjesnicima mlađim od 27 godina te je urednica godišnjaka „Almanah Planet Poezije“. Njene pjesme prevođene su na engleski, poljski, slovenski, danski i španski jezik.

Diše i piše u Sarajevu.

 

 

NENASLOVLJIVA PJESMA

Zaokreni cestom na stari drum,

usmjeri tračnice u pravcu šina,

sunđerom upij iscijeđenu spužvu

kad u bačvi leži što u buretu ima.

 

Udahni zrak ispunjen vazduhom,

podigni novac kad nestane para,

iz krčaga prospi pa zahvati ibrikom,

u šlajpek ubaci sitno iz buđelara.

 

Kreni vozom a doputuj vlakom,

dok hefta sedmično u tjedan klizi,

ukrasi vrpcom pa obmotaj trakom

i povisilicom usklik do uzvika snizi.

 

(iz knjige „Venerina orbita“)

 

 

MJERA ZA VRIJEME

 

Ne mjeri moje vrijeme satima

jer sat u čekaonici

i sat na zabavi

jednako traju,

samo što neki brže prođu.

 

Ne mjeri moje vrijeme danima

jer dan i noć

nerazdvojni su

kao dobro i zlo,

sreća i tuga, ljubav i bol.

 

Ne mjeri moje vrijeme godinama

jer nema kalendara

s upisanim suzama

niti crvenih brojki

za dane promjene smjera.

 

Udah-izdah,

udah-izdah…

 

To je mjera.

 

(iz knjige „ŽEljezNA“)

 

 

OPORUKA UMIRUĆIH GRADOVA

 

Pjesnici, volite svoje domovine,

gromovite planine, pitome nizije,

njihove rijeke i urvine,

svaki prašnjavi cvijet kraj puta,

to su naše druge majke,

previt će rane staračkih dana

kada nam oznojeni porod

bude okovan životom.

 

Gledam našu djecu dok odlaze,

dugačke kolone snova

u njihovim očima

šapuću pjesme rodnoga kraja

ispod radnih odijela,

dobra su to djeca,

biraju odlaske i šapat pjesme

umjesto krvi revolucije.

 

Pjesnici, volite raspjevanu djecu

u potrazi za punim stomacima,

oni su biseri naših domovina

izvađeni iz toplog okrilja,

prepušteni olujnim kišama

da im zaoble snove

i silno volite svoje domovine –

jednom će i one voljeti vas.

 

(iz knjige „Giocondin smiješak“)

 

IMPLOZIJA MOGA SVIJETA

 

Dok dišeš pomoću aparata,

kroz mene prolazi tamna materija,

a bogzna koliko

svjetlosnih godina daleko

počinje sudar galaksija,

zalud u bolnici zvoni telefon,

spuštam slušalicu i kružim

praznim stanom

tražeći plavu zvijezdu

u krugu koraka.

 

Kažu, vrijeme brže prolazi

što smo stariji,

mojih deset minuta mili niz zidove,

gdje je sad Crnjanski

da ga pitam kako izvesti seobu iz sebe,

gdje su Tesla i Tagore

da me pouče

kako komunicirati u šestoj dimenziji

ili bar Morgan Freeman

da me provede

kroz crvotočinu misli.

 

Moja putanja je elipsa –

od vrha dnevnog boravka

preko hodnika

do naše sobe, gdje se okrenem

kraj prozora i vraćam na početak,

znam da me s neba gleda

desetak voljenih očiju

i sigurno raspravljaju

hoću li izaćijača

iz ovog privatnog pakla.

Nemojte,

pustite da ostanem

ovako slaba, nesavršena,

nesmireni odraz u njegovim očima.

 

Šuti telefon,

strah je destruktivna emocija,

guši još deset maratonskih minuta

i novi set koračajućih krugova,

zvoni Crkva Presvetog Trojstva

sadam puta,

uskoro će i ezan,

iz ove sobe ne čujem zvuke

pravoslavne crkve

ni židovskog hrama,

a želim da Svevišnjem

doputuje moja molba,

jer trebam božanski kredit

za nekoliko godina disanja

bez aparata.

 

Gledam kroz prozor –

i sunce me napušta,

još malo

i noćnom orbitom kružit će

užarena cigareta,

ima li bar vila vodarica

da isisaju tekućinu iz pluća,

dok mrak guta grad

i tebe

i mene.

 

(Sarajevo, 6. 8. 2019)

 

………………………………………………..

 

Langue source : Croate

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Tamara Čapelj was born on October 2, 1969. in Novi Sad. So far, she has published three collections of poetry: « Venus’s Orbit » (2015), « IRON » (2018) and « Gioconda’s Smile » (2019) and a collection of short stories « Invisible Traces » (2017). He is the co-author of the professional linguistic manual intended for lecturers in legislation « Manual on the most commonly used terms and expressions in the institutions of BiH » (2015).
She is one of the founders of the Sarajevo Association of Planet Poetry Artists, which advocates the independence of art from politics and the autonomy of poetic expression. With Dino Porović, she conceived and performed the multimedia performance « Faces from Space » from the category of poetic theater and wrote two screenplays for the children’s festival « Lino-Fest » (2016 and 2017). After the death of Admiral Mahić, together with Dino Porović, she organized two International caravans of singer-songwriters and poets « Neretvanske vedrine » (2016 and 217), and she is one of the authors included in the recital « Syria » (2016). Within the Planet of Poetry, she organizes poetry evenings and literary events in Sarajevo, and is the director of the international festival « Four Seasons of Literature » for Sarajevo and the leader of the Sarajevo branch of the event « Poetic Word: Stop Violence Against Women ». So far, she has written dozens of reviews and edited several books of poetry by contemporary authors, launched the project « Paper Birds » intended for poets under the age of 27 and is the editor of the yearbook « Almanac of Planet Poetry ». Her poems have been translated into English, Polish, Slovenian, Danish and Spanish.
He breathes and writes in Sarajevo.

NON-TITLE SONG
Turn the road onto the old road,
direct the rails in the direction of the rails,
soak a squeezed sponge with a sponge
when in the barrel lies what is in the barrel.

Breathe in air filled with air,
raise money when money runs out,
from the jug he spilled and grabbed the ibrik,
put a small amount of bucelar in the shlaipek.

Take the train and arrive by train,
while heft slides week after week,
decorate with ribbon and wrap with ribbon
and with an amplifier he lowered the exclamation to an exclamation.

(from the book « Venus’s orbit »)

TIME MEASURE

Don’t measure my time for hours
because the clock in the waiting room
and a party hour
last the same,
only some pass faster.

Don’t measure my time for days
because day and night
they are inseparable
as good and evil,
happiness and sorrow, love and pain.

It doesn’t measure my time for years
because there is no calendar
with inscribed tears
nor red numbers
for given direction changes.

Inhale-exhale,
inhale-exhale …

It is a measure.

(from the book « ŽEljezNA »)

THE WILL OF DYING CITIES

Poets, love your homelands,
thunder mountains, gentle lowlands,
their rivers and ravines,
every dusty flower by the roadside,
these are our other mothers,
it will bandage the wounds of old age
when our sweaty childbirth
be chained to life.

I watch our children leave,
long columns of dreams
in their eyes
whispering songs of the homeland
under work suits,
they are good children,
they choose departures and whisper songs
instead of the blood of revolution.

Poets, you love singing children
looking for full bellies,
they are the pearls of our homelands
taken out of the warm wing,
left to the stormy rains
to round their dreams
and you love your homeland very much –
one day they will love you too.

(from the book « Gioconda’s Smile »)

THE IMPLOSION OF MY WORLD

As you breathe through the apparatus,
dark matter passes through me,
and god knows how much
light years away
the clash of galaxies begins,
the phone rings in vain in the hospital,
I hang up and circle
empty apartment
looking for a blue star
in a circle of steps.

They say time passes faster
the older we get,
my ten minutes miles down the walls,
where Crnjanski is now
to ask him how to make a move out of himself,
where Tesla and Tagore are
to teach me
how to communicate in the sixth dimension
or at least Morgan Freeman
to take me
through the wormhole of thought.

My trajectory is an ellipse –
from the top of the living room
across the hall
to our room, where I turn
by the window and back to the beginning,
I know he’s watching me from the sky
a dozen beloved eyes
and certainly argue
do I want an outcast
from this private hell.
Do not,
let me stay
so weak, imperfect,
a restless reflection in his eyes.

Shut up the phone,
fear is a destructive emotion,
suffocates another ten marathon minutes
and a new set of walking circles,
the Church of the Most Holy Trinity is ringing
sadam puta,
the call to prayer will be soon,
I don’t hear any sounds from this room
of the Orthodox Church
nor a Jewish temple,
and I want the Most High
my request arrives,
because I need divine credit
for several years of breathing
without apparatus.

I’m looking out the window –
and the sun leaves me,
a little more
and will orbit in a night orbit
hot cigarette,
is there at least a water fairy
to suck fluid out of the lungs,
while darkness swallows the city
and you
and me.

(Sarajevo, August 6, 2019)

 

 

 

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