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
