Tihomir Jančovski

Tihomir Jančovski

161
0
SHARE

Tihomir Jančovski

 

Tihomir Jančovski, born 1967 in Skopje, Macedonia. A poet, translator and columnist. Before he was 30, he travelled, studied  and lived all over Europe: Skopje, Bruxelles, Amsterdam, Skiathos Island, London,  Budapest…  Worked as a waiter, bar-tender, paper boy, laborer, musician, salesman, teacher, journalist… Studied Literature and History  in Macedonia and Medieval Studies in Hungary. From 1997 he permanently lives in Skopje. Works as a translator and teaches World History. Recentlz compiled and translated into Macedonian a selecton of Rumi’s poems “Two Words”. One of the most widely read poets in his country. Selections of his poems were published in many international newspapers and magazines (Proglas, Zivot, Ettelaat, Muse India, Borderlands -Texas Poetry review, Voix Vivre…). Insofar, he has published 9 books of poetry and some of his poetic output was also translated in English, Slovak, Albanian, Bosnian, Serbian, French, Croatian, Persian, Slovenian, German, Italian and Georgian.

 

List of published books of poetry:

  • Obični zborovi; Ordinary Words, 1999
  • Dva; Two, 2002 (MK/EN)
  • Posledno vreme; Of Late, 2005 (MK/EN)
  • Osama; Loneliness, 2010
  • O, ti; Hey, You, 2011 (MK/AL)
  • Nedvižnina; Immovable Asset, 2013
  • Od zbor do zbor; Down to a Letter, 2015(selected poems in Macedonian)
  • Igla i konec; Needle and string, 2016
  • Godine; Years 2017 (selected poems in Bosnian)
  • The Noise of Loneliness, 2018 (selected poems in English)
  • Vlakno na jazikot; Big mouth, 2018

 

Dashuria vdes…

 

Dashuria vdes

sikur njeriu që vdes

sëmuret, shtiret, vuan, kërkon ilac

shpreson, cohet

dhe rrëzohet sërish

mund të sëmuret papritmas

ose sëmundja të zhvillohet ngadalë

dhe para fundit, zakonisht

drejtohet në këmbë dhe ndalon

të shkëlqejë me gjithë forcën

e kohërave të tij të bukura

duket se është ngjallur

që më pas, të vdes

përfundimisht të mos jetë

dhe më pas

njeriu që e ka mbajtur

e varros në vete

dhe e qan

 

Pothuajse cdonjëri prej nesh

mban në brendinë e barkut

varrezë të tillë

 

LOVE DIES…

Love dies,
as a dying man
it falls ill, lies, ails
looks for a cure, hopes
gets better and gets worse again
it can get sick suddenly
or the illness slowly progresses
and before the very end, usually
it raises to its feet and stands up
to shine with all of its force
from its good times
it looks as if healed
and then it dies, it vanishes
entirely  and for good
eventually,
the man who carried it
buries it inside himself
and laments it

Almost all of us
carry inside
a graveyard of this sort

 

 

Vetmi

 

Aq shumë u afrova me vetminë time

sa që ndalova ikjen nga ajo

dhe mu bë e dashur, si njeri i gjallë

apo kafshëzë memece

 

Herë herë më vjen

edhe të flas me të

por atë nuk e bëj

sepse ajo nuk do të përgjigjet

nuk mund të përgjigjet

nuk guxon të përgjigjet

sepse përndryshe nuk do të ishte vetmi

 

LONELINESS

 

I’ve become so close to my loneliness
So I stopped avoiding it
And I grew fond of it, as of a man
Or a mute animal

Sometimes I even feel like
Talking to it
But I don’t
Because it won’t respond
It can’t respond
It mustn’t respond
Or else it would not be loneliness

SHARE
Previous articleNikola Madzirov
Next articleDaim Miftari

LEAVE A REPLY