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Výber z poézie Ondreja Kalamára - Ondrej Kalamar, Selection of Poems

"plece je poslednou výstrahou pred obzretím"

´shoulder is the last warning before looking back´

Sedem

Keď som mal sedem rokov,

dostal som prvé okuliare. Podmienečne.

Odvtedy je sedmička moje šťastné číslo

a svet nemá len farbu

ale aj semafory.

Keď som bol siedmak,

prvýkrát som vyliezol na poriadne vysoký

a strmý kopec.

Až vtedy som pochopil,

že budem musieť zliezť aj dole.

A siedmeho siedmy som stretol človeka.

Mal sedem mincí,

sedem zubov,

sedem vlasov

a sedemkrát sa mi prisnil.

S úsmevom sa ma spýtal:

„Požičiaš mi okuliare?“

Seven

When I was seven years old,

I got my first glasses. Conditionally.

Since then, seven is my lucky number

and world does not have just colour

but also traffic lights.

When I went to the seventh class,

I climbed on a rather high 

and steep hill

for the first time.

Only then I realized

that I would have to climb down too.

And on the 7. 7. I met a human.

He had seven coins,

seven teeth,

seven hairs

and seven times he was in my dream.

He asked me with a smile:

´Would you lend me glasses? ´

Parohy naopak

Bolo sucho
Veľmi sucho
Bolo tak veľmi
sucho
že vo vodárňach
tajne
do vody prilievali
víno

Antlers Upside Down

It was dry
Very dry
It was so dry
that even in the water stations
they were secretly adding
wine
into the water

xxx

Dlho som čakal
kým príde moja
chvíľa
Nakoniec som sa predsa
dočkal
Neprišla

xxx

I waited long
for the right moment
After all I lived to see
it did not come

"Pán doktor, prosím Vás, odkedy som na facebooku, stále mám pocit, že sa mi niekto prihovára..."

´ Mr. Doctor, please, I have been having this feeling like someone is speaking to me since I am on facebook…´

"Srať na taký život!" zvolal zúfalý poldecák rumu a bezhlavo sa do mňa vrhol..."

´Shit on such a life! ´ shouted a desperate glass of rum and deliriously jumped into me…

Jakub Námešný: Čokoládové Lamborghini - Chocholate Lamborghini

Nenávidím svoje auto. Nenávidel som ho, už keď som ho kupoval. Za tú cenu som mohol kúpiť jedine niečo, čo sa dá dlho nenávidieť. Vlaky a autobusy tiež neznášam, ale to auto neznášam viac ako moju prácu. Chvalabohu, inak neviem ako by som v nej vydržal. Dnes mi to prekliate auto načisto vypovedalo službu. Zadrel sa motor. Už dlhšiu dobu mi tiekol olej. Prišla finančná kríza a s ňou sa dotiahlo nutné šetrenie. Riadil som sa fyzikou: čím menej oleja dolejem, tým menej vytečie a riadil som sa rozumom: čím menej vytečie, tým menej kúpim. Nepomohlo. Neznášam všetkých, čo hovoria: používajte rozum! Môj šéf to hovorí každý deň. Moja žena každý týždeň. Chvalabohu, inak neviem ako by som s ňou vydržal.

„Mali by ste si kúpiť nové auto.“ Nakúkal do môjho vraku chlapík v servise.

„Ďakujem za radu.“ Odpovedám mu. Neznášam ho.

„Chcete sa zapojiť do našej súťaže?“ Oslovil ma zrazu prešibaný potenciál za mojím chrbtom.

„Do akej súťaže?“ Mal som čas. Prečo by som sa zatiaľ s niekým neponaťahoval?

„Môžete vyhrať čokoládové Lamborghini.“

Skoro som vypľul zub, čo sa mi od nedele kýval. Čokoládové auto? So súťažami to ide dolu vodou.

„Akú má farbu?“

Prešibaný potenciál si ma podozrivo premeral.

„Nerozumiem pane.“

„Nevstúpim do súťaže o rúžové auto.“

„Je hnedé ako čokoláda.“

Prirodzene, však je z čokolády ty chytrák, pomyslel som si.

„Aké sú podmienky súťaže?“ Nech si nemyslí, že som práve teraz vyšiel z pôrodnice. Prešibaný potenciál ožil. Líca mu sčervenali a skoro sa usmial.

„Kúpite si od nás liter oleja na doliatie. Dnes je uzávierka súťaže. Radšej sa poponáhľajte.“ Očné buľvy sa mi zväčšili až po obočie. Keby som bol Perún zrazím ho bleskami k zemi. Olej nenávidím odkedy sa mi kvôli nemu zadrel motor.

„Šéfko, toto už neopravím.“ Ozvalo sa od môjho auta. „Nekontrolovali ste si hladinu oleja? Motor je totálka.“ Opravár si to dobre načasoval. Ach ako ho nenávidím. Automaticky som čakal na samozrejmú reakciu prešibaného potenciála, ktorý objaví vitamín C a povie mi: vidíte? Keby ste si kúpili olej a blablabla. Ale potenciál zostal ticho.

„Prineste mi olej.“ Povedal som.

„Šéfko, na čo vám to bude? Vaše auto je nepojazdné.“ Zavŕzgal opravár. Mal také zakrútené fúzy, ktoré som od prvej chvíle neznášal. Vytiahol som eurá a vopchal ich do potenciálovho vrecka. Popritom som mu zašuškal: „tuším som spomínal olej.“ Potenciál prikývol a pobral sa po môj olej.

Sedel som doma za stolom. Obzeral som si nádobu s olejom Larutan plus. Modlitebne som spojil ruky. Bože, daj aby som to prekliate čokoládové auto vyhral, nech nemusím na Mikuláša nič synovi kupovať. Amen.

Ráno mi zvoní mobil. Pre istotu som sa pozrel do plafóna, nech Boh vidí moje prosebné oči, ktoré sa v sekunde zmenia na rodiská lávy, ak mi nevolajú kvôli výhre. Skoro ma šľak trafil, ale v telefóne sa naozaj ozval prešibaný potenciál.

Budova Larutan oil bola na desať minút cesty od môjho paneláku. Vnútri ma čakali páni v oblekoch, dámy v kostýmoch a prešibaný potenciál v bielej košeli. Šašovia, pretŕčajú sa tu v drahých háboch a ja dostanem auto z poľskej čokolády, pomyslel som si. Jediné, čo mi celý čas udržovalo dobrú náladu bolo, že ho nebudem jesť ja. Nerozumel som ich prehnaným úsmevom. Nadšene potriasali mojou pravicou a viedli ma k priestorom parkoviska. A tam pri všetkých svätých stálo čokoládovohnedé Lamborghini Diablo, v ktorom si vozila svoj chutný zadok aj Elizabeth Hurleyová. Padol som na kolená a začal som ho bozkávať kam mi ústa dočiahli. Nepremohol som sa a plakal som ako môj syn, keď som mu posledne jednu struhol. Prešibaný potenciál sa ku mne sklonil a zašepkal: „dojala vás jeho čokoládová farba?“

„Nie,“ povedal som a chytil som ho okolo pleca, „dojalo ma, odkiaľ si vy idioti myslíte, že zoberiem peniaze na poistku.“

  

I hate my car. I hated it at the very moment when I was buying it. I could have bought only something worth hating for that price. I also hate trains and buses but I hate that car more than my work. Thanks God because otherwise I do not how else I would manage to withstand it. Today that damned car has completely broken down. The engine has stopped working. The oil started leaking a longer period ago. The finance crisis arrived bringing necessary saving hand in hand. I followed the rules of physics: the less oil I pour, the less it flows out, and the reason: the less it flows out, the less I buy. It did not help me. That is why I hate everyone that says: Use reason! My boss says it every day. My wife every week. Thanks God, otherwise I do not know how else I could live with her.

            ´You should buy a new car.´ A fellow in the service was peeking into my wreck.

            ´Thank you for advice.´ I answered with a grin that I hate.

            ´Do you want to take part in our competition?´ A kind of cunning shop assistant  addressed me behind my back.

            ´What kind of a competition?´ I was not in a hurry so why not to joke with someone?

            ´You can win a chocolate Lamborghini´. I almost spit the tooth that has been wobbling since Sunday. A chocolate car? Competitions are not the same as they used to be.

            ´What colour is the car?´ A cunning shop assistant measured me slowly with his eyes.

            ´I do not understand, sir.´ He tried to look wise.

            ´I do not enter the competition about the pink car. You understand that?´. I stiffened up.

            ´It is brown like chocolate´. Of course it is brown if it is from chocolate, thought I.

            ´What are the conditions of the competition?´ May he does not think that I have just gone out of the maternity hospital. The cunning shop assistant came to life. His cheeks got red and he almost made a smile.

            ´You just have to buy a litter of fuelling oil at our service. It is deadline of our competition today. You had better hurry.´ My eyeballs rose up to the eyebrows. If I was the god Perun I would knock him down by lightings. I hate oil since my engine stopped working.

            ´I am not able to repair this anymore´. I heard voice near my car saying. ´You did not check the level of oil, did you? The engine is dead.´ The serviceman timed it well. Oh, how much I hate him. Automatically I was waiting for the natural reaction of the cunning shop assistant who would surely try to say something extremely wise as if he discovered Antarctica: ´See? If you had bought the oil you would have… and so on.´ But he stayed quiet. I could not stand him being the master of the whole situation.

            ´Give me the oil´. I roared.

            ´P…please?´Hah! The shop assistant was taken aback.

            ´What will you do with it?´ Your car is totally broken down.´ Creaked the repairman. He had such a twisted moustache that I hated since the first moment. I took out euros and put them into the potential ´s pocket. While doing so I whispered quietly: ´I think I have mentioned oil´. The Potential nodded and apparently went to get my oil.

            I was sitting at the table at home and looking at the container with oil called Larutan plus. I crossed my hands as if praying. My God, please, let me win that damned chocolate Lamborghini so I do not have to buy anything for my son on St. Nicholas day. Amen.

            To my big surprise the phone started ringing in the morning. At first I looked at the ceiling so that God could see my begging eyes that could change into the streams of lava in a minute if they were not calling me about the winning. I almost got a haemorrhage but on the phone there really was the cunning potential.

            The building of Larutan oil was ten minutes from my block of flats. Inside, there were men in suits waiting for me, ladies in suits and the cunning potential in the white shirt. ´Such clowns, they are strolling in those dear clothes and I will get a car made of Polish chocolate.´ The only thing that cheered me up was that it would be my son who would eat the chocolate. I did not understand their exaggerated smiles, enthusiastic shaking of my hand and our walk towards the premises of the parking lot. And right there stood a chocolate brown Lamborghini Diablo in which even Elizabeth Hurley was riding her cute bum. The opposite of my wife. I fell down my knees and started kissing it everywhere it was possible.  It was stronger than me. I started crying like my son when I slapped him in the face last time. The cunning potential bent down towards me and whispered: ´Did the chocolate colour move you so much?´

            ´No,´ said I and touched him by the arm, ´it moved me because I am not sure if you, idiots, have an idea where I am going to scratch up the bucks for the tax on prize winning from.´

 Výber z poézie Anny Slatinskej - Anna Slatinska, Selection of Poems 

 

XXX

Náš rozchod

má mesiac

a sedem dní,

no ešte stále

nevie stáť

na vlastných.

Každé ráno

mu musím

 pripomínať,

že samota

si na mne

láme nechty.

Okolo stola

krúži objatie.

Hádžem ti

pod nohy

kôrky

 chleba.

Potkla som sa

prvá.

XXX

Our separation

is one month and seven days old

but still it cannot stand

on its own.

Every day I have to remind him

that loneliness is breaking

nails on me.

Around the table

there is nobody to hug.

You are throwing

breadcrusts

under my feet.

I tripped first.

XXX

V priestupnom roku

mi predávaš

spomienky

a všetko, čo

z nich zostalo.

Oberám ťa

o dotyky.

Máš ich viac

než ja.

Alebo možno

neviem počítať.

Dnes som

samé očko.

Zhasni.

Prekroč

 moje

 sny

a

 možno

 sa ti

neminiem.

XXX

In the leap year

you are selling me

memories

and everything

what remained of them.

I am stealing you touches.

You have got them

more than I.

Or maybe

I cannot count.

Today I am

watching you.

Turn off the lights

and I might not wane.

XXX

Dúfam,

že raz

si ma niekto nájde,

aj keď 

nebude

hľadať.

Pod krídlom

netopiera

nepopieram.

Len to

v palci

zadreté.

XXX

I hope that one day

someone will find me

even if he will not be

searching.

Under the bat´s wing

I do not deny anything

just that

what is in the thumb

like a splinter stuck.

Výber z poézie Vladeny Škorvagovej - Vladena Skorvagova, Selection of Poems

......

Ráno bolo bezfarebné

ako oči anjela.

Ale počas dňa

Boh pomaličky prelieval

do neho

svoju obľúbenú farbu.

Všetko šlo podľa plánu.-

Noc

už bola celkom čierna...

......

Morning was colourless   

like eyes of an angel.

But during the day

God poured slowly

his favourite colour

into it.

Everything went according to the plan.

Night

was completely black.

Rozprávka o budúcnosti

Kde bolo,

tam bolo,

bude raz krajina

plná anjelov.

A my ju

neuvidíme...

A Fairytale about the Future

Once upon a time,

there will be

a country

full of angels

one day.

And we will not see it...

Štatistika

Raz sa narodíš.

Raz budeš milovať.

Raz budeš klamať.

Raz budeš zabúdať.

A medzitým

neraz budeš umierať.

Statistics

Once you will be born.

Once you will love.

Once you will lie.

Once you will keep forgetting.

And in the meantime

you will be dying

not once.

Budeme.

Budeme pri sebe.

Budeme pre seba.

Až jedného dňa začneme

ubúdať.

Pri sebe...

Sebe...

Nebudeme...

Tak to chodí...

We will be.
 

We will be beside each other.

We will be for each other.

Until one day we start

to wane.

Near each other...

To each other...

We will not be...

So it goes...

Výber z poézie Ivany Feketeovej - Ivana Feketeova, Selection of Poems

Palce na nohách som mala modré, no aj tak sa mi ľudia hnusili.

Napísala som báseň,
takú tu
ready-made
ako o nich hovorí Kolenič,
no telo si stále trávilo tie
steny
okná
dvere.
Dvere! Tak zbytočné, keď aj tak nikde nebolo miesto
kde by som sa za nimi mohla skrútiť,
zavzlykať si ako ženy zvyknú.
Nikde nebol pár rúk,
taký čisto
home-made
čo by ma vedel zabiť z tohto
pop-art fungovania.
Chcela som si vygúgliť nový nos medzi očami,
priateľov,
nové lavičky pred bytovkou.
Na nič neboli peniaze!
Piť za tie obrázky nahraté v tých stenách
a telách okolo.
Zohriať si nohy vo veľkých papučiach.
Žiadny deň sa nevtesnal do nohavíc.
Všetko bolo príliš na mieru.

The toes on my feet were blue and still people made me sick

I wrote a kind of
ready – made poem
as Kolenič says,
but my body
was still digesting
walls,
windows,
door.
Door! So useless because there was no place for me
to curl up and sob
behind them
like women use to do.
There was nowhere a pair of hands
so purely home – made
that would be able to kill me
from my pop – art living.
I wanted to google for a new nose between my eyes,
friends,
new benches in front of my block of flats.
There was no money for that!
I wanted to drink for those pictures
recorded on walls and in the bodies around,
I wanted to warm up my feet in big slippers.
None of the days fit into trousers.
Everything was tailor – made.

Sme ako oči, cez ktoré vidíš skafandre

ticho sú klince ktoré sa zasekávajú medzi prsty
keď už nevládzeš počúvať ľudí.
keď ti z nich odpadávajú nechty ako gombíky na hrdzavom klarinete
a ty chrčíš,
obchádzaš pokožky ,mokré pavučiny vyrastené na telách
ktoré už od dávna oblizuješ od ľudí

v tichu ti obočie vráža priťažké šraubováky do tela
vyrastá do priúzkych potrubí
a prikrátke vlasy mu padajú z očí,
akoby ich chceli obliznúť celkom do prázdna

ticho sú dva poltóny celkom krehkého poprsia baleríny
zaveseného nad našimi hlavami
necháš ho v dvojpohlavných poliach kysnúť,
vyťahať korienky do šediva a líca do modra,
odkvapkať napriek všetkému vrstveniu informácií priamo
do tela

 

We are like eyes that can see spacesuits

Silence is like nails that are getting stuck between fingers,
when you have hardly enough strength
to listen to people,
when nails drop down from them like buttons on a rusty clarinet,
and you make a rough noise
while bypassing skins, wet cobwebs grown on bodies
that you have been licking for a long time
in order to find people.

In silence the eyebrows are stabbing screwdrivers too hard into the body.
it grows into too narrow pipings
and hair too short are falling from its eyes
as if they wanted to lick them entirely into the emptiness.

Silence is like two semitones of a quite fragile bosom of a ballerina
hung over our heads
you will let it ferment in the bisexual fields,
colour the roots grey and cheeks blue
and although all the interlaced information
you will let it drain straight
into the body.

Všetko sa dá, len treba nemať peniaze.

Dnes poobede som sedela v tom našom trojizbovom byte
a zatúžila po garzónke.
Odrezala som dve izby.
Zostalo mi na chleba.

Everything is possible, it needs only not to have money

Today in the afternoon I was sitting in our three – room flat
and began longing for a kitchenette apartment.
I cut off two rooms
and still had enough for bread.