SAŠA MILIVOJEV

Sasha Milivoyev / Saša Milivojev Saša Milivojev A MESSAGE AFTER DEATH And I have died, in antiquity, and noone ached for me. Some rejoiced, young as I was, as I bled on the cross, drenched in blood, in agony. Not a single tear rolled down for me, when they nailed my bones to yew, the dzelats were singing sneeringly. and I was smiling, forgivingly. In that life so brief, in that cauldron of hell in the tarnished jaws I begged for love with poetry, fruitlessly. And as I have perished to all I have forgiven, soaring to Third Heaven. Into the mountains of crimson jade, Barefoot with the angels I stroll, It is raining milk and honey on the squares of the city of gold, just as it did before. Here, there is no pain and misery, resentment and poverty, fear and sin, by the beautiful streams, sweet fruits are blossoming, here, love is always waiting for you when you come to stay from far, far away. Saša Milivojev Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska www.sasamilivojev.com SAŠA MILIVOJEV 萨沙•米利沃耶夫 , 

Sasha Milivojev Saša Milivojev THE EMIR OF THE CONTEMPORARY POETRY OF SERBIA ASIDE A BRITISH LIGHTHOUSE THE PAIN OF THE WORLD Scientific overview of the song - the poem THE PAIN OF THE WORLD. A prelude to the poetics of  Saša Milivojev . Penned by: THE NATIONAL PEST. Translated into English by: Ljubica Yentl Tinska January 25th, 2019.   TO EACH TIME ITS EAST THE EMIR AND THE TEMPEST At the pinnacle of the Winter that was according to the global administrative calendar divided between the years 2018 and 2019, Saša Milivojev conceived a poem named “The Pain of the World”. Its title evoked memories not of Byron, yet of Shelley, and it is because of those memories that I rest these words of the Emir of the contemporary poetry of Serbia aside a British lighthouse. ID OF “THE PAIN OF THE WORLD” Served to the World, as a sizzling song, Saša Milivojev’s poem to be, “The Pain of the World”, clearly walked the content obsessed reader from Homer (has been or never was and whatever name bore he w

Saša Milivojev Saša Milivojev THE PAIN OF THE WORLD WELTSCHMERZ  ("WORLD PAIN") In this century withal Rivers of blood still flow Bombs echo Children are being killed Heads are being severed Millions are starving Diseases are devouring And you are singing   The gallows are trembling In the valley of the fallen In the salty tears With our putrescent sores We fall prey to the crows   Our festering entrails For the starving wolves   A shattered house Little boy is weeping Over the body of his Father That forever now is sleeping   Schools Temples and bridges bleeding bloodstained wedding guests are screaming   Little white coffins Maternal howls Above Uranus Hear the painful growls Delirious poets are prattling And not a word are you uttering   They blinded you When they raped your daughter Strangled ‘er with the wire They abducted your brothers Tortured in the cellar Shattered their fingers With ferrous clubs With a saw agape their skulls Their legs wagons lacerated Their limbs

Saša Milivojev, Zanzibar, Tanzania Saša Milivojev THE STRANGER Weary of World’s Pain Stranger to the audience. Stranger in the community and the family. A stranger to one’s own mother, A shadow to one’s own shadow, A foreigner in the country of one’s own, in every land he has been in In the town he was born in Abandoned by hope in every town worldwide on every planet one could find. A worldwise vagabond, With disheartened face, targeted by murderers and madman alike Across distant deserts and seas Windbourne with no goals or dreams. Betrayed by everyone, Abandoned tranquilly “friends” fiends, He has forgiven them, Perished to the infinite Never to be back again. For noone will ache, love or forgive, man is a machine with nothing to give. All life in one suitcase unsettled, macabre soaring across dreary universe homeless, roofless, with no dreams or aim, weary of World’s pain. Saša Milivojev Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska www.sasamilivojev.com SAŠA MILIVOJEV 萨沙•米利沃耶夫 ,  Saşa Milivoy

Saša Milivojev Saša Milivojev THE REJOICING SONG Grateful to the skies And the darkest nights, To the moon and stars That are my night’s lights. Morning and the Mosques That wake me unsleeping, When hopes of new victories Upon me are awakening. Through these empyrean gardens Where black gold is flowing, No wicked thoughts are growing. No sadness and hunger, Resentment and pain, Here, one can love again. In the warm desert Thirsting for love. Grateful my life, To the blue infinity of freedom To the Sun that shines the light That gilts the sands with golden flames And the Sea that hums a lullaby Whose waters rise and fall with tide. Drown the troubles, surface blessedness, Here, where every cry diminishes. Grateful to the Nature, Earth and Water For the yields, Sweet fruits, Bees on flowers, Honeyed lips, Coconut in the palms of my hands And the wild beasts That emboldened me. The compassionate And the charitable. To the seed of men, Mothers that birth Children that warm our hearts And t