DALIBORKA STOJŠIĆ: "SAŠA MILIVOJEV - THE SON OF THE SOUL"
When I first saw a photograph of Saša Milivojev in a newspaper, my lips spontaneously whispered: Tadzio! It was a reaction to his angelic beauty of the kind that once mesmerised me when I read Death in Venice as part of the preparation of a paper entitled The Novellas of Thomas Mann at the World Literature Department of the Faculty of Philology in Belgrade.
The Hellenic, Apollonian beauty of the young Pole that I recognised on his face, is often unaware of itself. It belongs to the kind so agonisingly loved by Thomas Mann, to those blue-eyed and simple creatures that need no spirit. It also conforms to Schiller’s principle of the naïve, as opposed to the sentimental, which separates itself from life, contemplates, writes poems and falls while dancing.
|Sasha Milivoyev - Saša Milivojev|
As I continue, I turn to Tonio Kröger, the novella in which Thomas Mann describes his poetics - i.e. his relationship with art - most picturesquely. The Tadzio of Saša Milivojev melts into the character of Hans Hansen, another of those blue-eyed boys that enjoy every moment, deeply emerged in life, favoured, fitting into the whole. Then I read the interview, a couple of columns and a few poems by this young man - still more of a boy than a man - and I realised that I had finally found an answer that remained lingering above my study paper: What would have happened if Hans Hansen had humoured Tonio Kröger and read Don Carlos? Now I know – he would have become Saša Milivojev. This beautiful, young, talented poet is actually a reincarnation of Kröger’s biggest desire. He is a Hans Hansen who has read Don Carlos.
|Saša Milivojev - When the Firefly is gone|
"Like haiku verses, the small, icy crystals of his poetry are condensed and reduced to the smallest number of words necessary to express the essence; slowly melting and dying in the heat of his dream of the desert, they lead us to endlessness, to the wandering stars, to the Fake Tears of the Moon, to questioning all the gods that preach about Love, gods who should finally become one, the all-seeing eye of the Universal Mind.
Saša Milivojev has evolved into one of the most inventive poets in the world! Besides impressionist moments, such as the firefly leaving and parting the Light from Dark, his new book speaks of the emergence of the fifth ice age. His lyrical subject travels through time, living all the disasters of the Planet Earth, from volcanic eruptions: Who protects you / From the burning rain / Now that you are gone, and the Sun melting away, to continental plates moving, deluges, global warming, poles melting, to Waves crashing and Towns sinking; Black mountains are crumbling / The locusts hiss all round / Gnawed bones / Float soaked”, and so on until the ultimate apocalypse and ice age. The collection entitled When the Firefly is Gone assumes prophetic proportions when pictures of drowning continents assail the reader’s mind. Africa is the last to sink, the water level rising over the tips of the pyramids, after which An endless plate of ice will be created; a camel will carry the lyrical subject as the victor, not unlike the epic heroes of old Arabic literature, but this time the camel Stumbles over the tips of the pyramids …
Finally, I would like to address Saša personally and give him my motherly support, as he is an encouraging young face of future Serbia, despite all the cowards, all the indifferent mediocrities, and all Soros’s payees: I whish you all the best, my beautiful boy! You have a heavy burden to bear on your shoulders. I see that some have already started accusing you of manipulation and ambition, saying that, by choosing the topic for this book, you want to achieve instant success regardless of the risks the topic may bear. Hang in there, fight and move forward. Many will hate you for your beauty, but I can see the sign on your forehead, the one written in invisible ink. Work hard and your dream will come true. I bow before the hardships and suffering you will have to endure; I bow like Zosima the elder bowed before Mitya Karamazov. I am with you, my little Tadzio!
THE SON OF THE SOUL
In the wake of creation
While I trod barefoot
Over the seething stars
My soul begot you
It lost you and sought you
Writing your name in milk
In the sand.
Screaming like Lilith for her baby
Speaking of you to God
Amidst the desert.
Through the mazes of cosmos
And the shrieks of dying suns
I descended into time
To bring you back.
Following the beat of computer bytes
Under a sea of websites
I found you.
On a young body
The mark on the forehead
I will stay with you
And accept mortality
So I can follow you.
Those who love I will protect
Those who hate I will crush
Those who touch you I will kill
Just whisper my name.
Translated by ALKEMIST
European translation agency
萨沙•米利沃耶夫, Saşa Milivoyev, サーシャ・ミリヴォエフ, Sasha Milivoyev, साशा मिलीवोएव, Саша Миливойев, ساشا میلیوویف, Saša Milivojev, Σάσα Μιλιβόγιεφ, Sasa Milivojev, Sacha Milivoyév, Sascia Milivoev, Sasza Miliwojew, Sacha Milivoev, Sasha Milivojev, ሳሻ ሚሊቮዬቭ, Саша Миливоев, Саша Миливојев, ساشا ميليفويف