Tibor Hrs Pandur

We made ourselves a city

With technology to open all doors

We made beds for children

And spaces for learning and practice

Labyrinths of joy and work unfolded

We started living in the ship’s bunker,

Spreading day to day

On computers we made ourselves

Circuits were established between us

All are with us

Those who died, didn’t die

Because they live with us in dreams

 

Then we banned alcohol and all drugs

And lit up the beacon for the light of the world

So that all could see

The stars of our voices singing

Energy stations and through entire countries

The stardust of our melodies spread

Joyous festivals of our survival

 

I walked the hallways and visited children

Who fell asleep for the first time in their new beds

Organized in such a way

That they could watch the girls on the other side

And there were voids between them

Their letters were ships on earth

Translation: Jasmina B. Frelih, author and Jeffrey Young

A real big one, with wheels

So it could go on the road

And it had a pool in it

And Željko helped me

And I organized everything

Magnets that I could do anything

I imagined seas

On which we’d sail

Gathered the crew

Said farewell to my friends

I was happy

So immensely happy

To go

Željko hid the boat

Between some cars in the parking lot

And smashed one belonging to security

 

When we said goodbye to Livija, Tomaž and the team

And I leafed through Bakunin’s book, owned by Tesla

They took our ship away

And the next day the ship was gone

And we had to wait until morning

The courts put things in motion

Interrogated witnesses etc.

And I became angry,

That I let others steer my ship

I was so immensely happy to go

Irene came and said I’d gone? too far

But I told her through tears that I am finally happy

That I don’t want to suffer and hurt anymore

That I have enough

That I heard

She said ok and hugged me

Blessed me and took the snakes away

 

But when I woke up the anger returned

Because if you let others take control of your vehicle, you lose it

If you don’t squat the space for yourself

You lose

If you stop breathing with your diaphragm, you lose

If you don’t go, when you feel you must

You lose

If you can’t chill yourself out

If you don’t transmute this force through your body

If you don’t get it that you yourself are

Your own perfect ship

And just be

 

Simply write this as instruction

To a self

Transformed by this very inscription

Into someone who forgets

 

Just be

Breathe, have the sound of birds

And the rustling of trees in the leaves

Just have this

 

And understand how your life

Has been formed by yearning

You transposed into a precondition

Of persistent inscription

And thus solved these dilemmas

Of life on a leaf of paper

 

Whirled within you

In self-prisons of envy

Resentments towards mothers,

Exaggerated,

Who left you in front of TV’s

Exchanged for appearances

(So you can forgive them infinitely)

 

To desire peace

Wind in your ears

Greens in your eyes

Have this

Just this really have

Nimbleness of body

The air that breathes you

The acid you manufacture

Millions of cells

 

If through subjective revelation

Of a specific soul

A universe of truths unfolds

If it is possible to present what flows

What you lose in dreams

What hurts

What glimmers as the feeling of final hope

On harmony

On the peace you own if you leave yourself alone

On the freedom you seize with a gesture

The water of bodies you perform every movement

The endorphins you generate for yourself

 

To see people elevated

For gentle signals

For the enigma of touch

For the warmth of bodies

To the point of presence, where the hole sews itself

To thank someone

Who put his brains through his hands,

To transmit

To show

To undress

To undie

To unfold

 

To bring this stuff out

Assuming that what’s within

Real for you

Common perhaps to all

So that an unborn might see

Or have something to read

That the ink which turns to thought

Makes this page into a body

In which you’ve already been

That someone could smile

Or to make silence

To see

To be able to move on

Translation: Jasmina B. Frelih, author and Jeffrey Young

Sexymeters of her tempered flesh

With Jeffrey in

Nicaragua Mexico

Somewhere where I’d already

Shown him

The city its crazy Statues

Of massive turtles on

Church fronts we walk

Next to I don’t know where

It began

We climbed and while hanging

Sipped teas as I

Confided that my mom

Doesn’t trust me

Speaks of my suppliers

As I introduce two homeless kids

We met by chance for the second time

On a dusty road

In a slum kiosk

I gave them smokes from Belgrade

Jeffrey just stayed

The bus took me away

Then we went down pipes

With Livia and felt offended

When others overpower me in conversation

’Cause I let them

Lucid dominations

’Cause I’m beyond conflict

When let’s say someone drowns me out

Or takes over and continues the sentence

I started

This really pisses me off

Makes me look like an idiot

As if our whole organization

Turned into a healthy competition

Who’ll own it

And who’ll lead

Definitely not like a dictatorship

Innit my friend

Who’ll monologize

The plans of the collective

Mythomanias of all-knowing

Editors

I lost the thread

We were in Nicaragua

I guess, arrived

To the house, wanted to show him

The temple, that special one

That keeps repeating

It’s a little outside Mexico

I travelled there

You go in and activate it

And all sorts of stuff connects

But that’s in Mexico, fuck it

We come to a fancy house

Where there’s a bunch of Europeans

And we debate the Slovene literary scene

Cultural attachés

Redneck diplomats

Hold it all

So that younger names aren’t let through

Positioning abroad

Their half-made scrap

Bombs of cultural genocide

Onto occupied territories

Of their allies’

Command

 

I don’t feel like it any more, you know

We’re boring even in our most advanced visions /

Projecting hate

And annoyance onto our fellow beings

Reaching compromises

Anyway

I’d rather wander with Jeff

Through the market of some slum

Or hang on a chair from some cliff

And go on about how mothers doubt me

If I let’s say really wanted to step out

And start living

I got tired of my class

And we walk beside chains

Of anchors by the river

That separates rice fields

From trash

Jeff wants to swim

Just let himself go

Back down. I don’t want

To get my notes wet

It’s freezing anyway.

Ach, Vanities

All over

And unseen subversions

Even among friends

One gets tired of it

I’d rather buy smuggled blankets

With Jeff

And build memories

With new music

From coincidences

Then in some bar

I blossom

While debating masturbation

A woman asked me

How much I jerked off

When I was young

And I answer: uff, all the time …

I find our magazine hidden

Under some newspapers from Maribor

I put it on top

So everyone can see

ID4

We don’t give a fuck

If my name’s not whispered

Down corridors

Of power and promotion

It’s no use

Feudalism rules

For first acts

Of entry into the field

Marked

For all eternity

I’d rather count chains

of ships’ anchors

In exotic dreams

Of escapes into lands

That I’ll never reach

Jeff makes it. Woos them all

His exes bring him mints to Trnovo

Cross their legs

Lasciviously

Wanton and all freckled

Gazing into the distance

Of middle age

The two of us hang in chairs along the wall

And debate

The bumfuckery^[1] of the global literary

scene

Translation: Jasmina B. Frelih, author and Jeffrey Young