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Maraaaks: "A day rich in your arms I wear Young fir trees along the view I'm planting Through the cities of your silence I'm walking Your eyelashes with dew I'm taking off my clothes I'm tying a slender night around your waist A caring dawn from the rooftops is calling" Vasko Popa

JakeWildHall: This Vasko Popa quote in the intro to his selected poems (intro written by Simic.) might just describe poems perfectly.

infinita_fiori: once upon a time there was a triangle it had three sides the fourth it kept hidden in its burning centre. vasko popa

maureenthorson: Oh sigh, oh me oh my. I do so love to be definitively yet mysteriously menaced, a la Vasko Popa’s “The Little Box.”

unjustlyunread: and now i remember Vasko Popa's "Chair" (trans. Pennington and Jones)

DaxTviter: Hello world

JohannesGoranss: Each strips his own skin Each bares his own constellation - Vasko Popa

infinita_fiori: i’ll burn your eyebrows / you won’t be invisible to me forever // i’ll mix day and night in your mind / you’ll come beating your head on my door // i’ll cut off your singing nails / so you can’t hopscotch through my brain. vasko popa tr. anne pennington / francis Jones.

PoetNotRockStar: “I’ll be just what I am Without root without branch without crown I’ll lean on myself On my own bumps and bruises.” — Vasko Popa, from ‘Give Me Back My Rags’, Collected Poems, 1943-1976 (trans. Anne Pennington)

pamilerinjacob: In his lovely eyes Sorrow has closed Into a circle For the road has no ending And he must drag behind him The whole world - Vasko Popa [Horse]

ColinPartch: Forgotten masterpiece (in the anglophone world) by Vasko Popa

cielosueloastro: Each time I buy a book by a dead poet, I always ask for a message thru bibliomancy when I first open it and I asked for a Saturn return message and wow if this isn’t Saturn in the 12th house af. This is Vasko Popa translated by Charles Simic.

Maraaaks: "I don't have time to think, I'm traveling..." Vasko Popa Photo, net

Sheehandp56: A side note about Charles Simic - his translations introduced me to Novica Tadic, Vasko Popa, Aleksandar Ristovic and other remarkable Serbian poets.

SJSloat: Vasko Popa's "Proud Error," translated by Charles Simic.

heatherchristle: Charles Simic’s poems thrilled me when I encountered them in the first poetry workshop I ever took, and his translations of Vasko Popa and Alexander Ristović opened up a whole new set of possibilities. Sad to hear of his death. Thankful for his work.

natalie_eilbert: Charles Simic also gave English readers Vasko Popa, and I don't know, if you've never read "Homage to the Lame Wolf" with Simic's translations, whoosh.

sibaerisch: I'm heartbroken to learn Charles Simic has died, one of the great living poets, who I have always admired for his command of the line, and his sense of mysticism, somewhere between Stevens and Avila, just a magnificent poet. And his translations of Vasko Popa, my God.

stoneandthestar: I really love Vasko Popa. A very special poet. Translation by Anne Pennington.

stoneandthestar: Who but Vasko Popa would write like this about a potato...

dominicfishpoet: I'm reading Vasko Popa, and come along to Silver Street Poetry on Friday - more in here, pass it on if you like

Kulambq: 1/ 'I remembered where to turn but did not recognize the river. Its color like that of reddish automobile oil, No rushes and no lily pads. They’re widening the street Clogged with traffic They’re felling the poplars.' ~ Vasko Popa, 'The Poplar and the Passer-by'

4ctsofservice: Vasko Popa, from “Give me back my rags; 8,”

shahran_morshed: Your hands sadly Flow into mine The air is impassable. — Vasko Popa, from 'Far Within Us'

shahran_morshed: I would sleep in the sea I plunge in the pupils of your eyes I blossom on the pavement – — Vasko Popa, from 'Far Within Us'

SJSloat: O how he kisses it Vasko Popa, translated by Charles Simic

biancastone: Vasko Popa articulating some serious tendencies of mine

jpbrm30: Since then we all carry Our hearts on a heavy chain Fastened to a faithful rib - Vasko Popa, Imitation of the Sun

poemakontsa: Serbian poet Vasko Popa covered in snow

poemakontsa: Didn't know Ted Hughes was an admirer of Vasko Popa.

poemakontsa: Vasko Popa wrote a book of poems called, 'Games', and I will tell you, each and every game is the most haunting thing...

poemakontsa: A love loss poem by Vasko Popa. From Give me back my rags And you want us to love one another You can shape me from my ashes From the debris of my guffawing From leftover tedium You can seize me by the hair of forgetting Kiss my echo

poemakontsa: The weekend blues combination of hangover, Lana Del Rey, and the poetry of Vasko Popa.

poemakontsa: Another haunting game poem from Vasko Popa's book 'Games' (I played this game and lost, dear reader) Leapfrog One be a stone on another's heart A house-heavy stone Neither under the stone can budge And both struggle At least to lift a finger

gastehowe: "Out of each pain Which we do not mention A chestnut tree grows up And remains mysterious behind us" -- Vasko Popa, translated by Anne Pennington, from "Far within us"

radiozhuangzi: Each night lights up its star And dances a black dance round it Until the star burns out. Vasko Popa

Henrythefinch: My first lecture of English Scientific Writing included a poem by Vasko Popa, the first paragraph of Moby-Dick, and an instruction manual for a rice cooker. I’ve arrived.

Henrythefinch: My first lecture for English Academic Writing now includes a discussion of style, featuring Vasko Popa, Herman Melville, and a rice cooker manual.

jpbrm30: “I dream of a language whose words, like fists, would fracture jaws.” [E.M. Cioran] - “The silence in her mouth is the bread she will not eat,” [Martin Espada] - “And my silence will smash your jaws” [Vasko Popa]

Henrythefinch: Mulberry, rose, and grape leaves on a balcony rug. Not pictured: thoughts on Vasko Popa, a crate of fresh potatoes.

poemakontsa: Again, from the astounding 'Far Within Us', by Vasko Popa These are your lips That I return To your neck We have lost each other In the boundless forests Of our meeting We have found each other On the golden plateau Far within us

poemakontsa: Killing me softly with this Vasko Popa, From 'Far Within Us': The streets of your glances Have no ending The swallows from your eyes Do not migrate south From the aspens in your breasts The leaves do not fall In the sky of your words The sun does not set

poemakontsa: Also bludgeoned by this strophe from Vasko Popa, also from Far Within Us: In the squares Your tear is seeking My eyes

poemakontsa: Love loss redux with Vasko Popa From Far Within Us, XIII In shop windows My lips are seeking Your smile At the crossroads Our trampled kiss In the squares Your tear is seeking My eyes

poemakontsa: Vasko Popa Far Within Us An x-ray of the human condition. We are two sheets of newspaper Crudely pasted Over the evening's wound

poemakontsa: Far Within Us I, by Vasko Popa (On the hopeful sowing of pain) From each pain That we do not mention A chestnut tree grows And remains mysterious behind us From each hope That we cherish A star arises And moves unattainable before us

poemakontsa: Another Vasko Popa. The untouchables of our memory. In Forgetting From the distant darkness The plain stuck out its tongue The uncontrollable plain Spilt events Strewn faded words Levelled faces ... Sighs without oars Toughts without wings Homeless glances

poemakontsa: Poems shared today. An untranslated Ida Vitale poem on how Autumn resembles death. Two short poignant poems by Serbian poet Vasko Popa, the second about the haunts of memory. Dive in and read.

poemakontsa: Why are folks of the Balkans so kin to the things that populate the abyss and the borders of the abyss? I am thinking of Vasko Popa, Emil Cioran, Paul Celan, Lucian Blaga...

poemakontsa: One of those poems that breaks you. Vasko Popa Departure The watermill in the shadow of the ribs Grinds the ripe void Fag ends of cheap dreams Smoulder in the ashtray I am no longer here A moored boat rocks On the red waves A few unripened words Hang in the cloudy throat

suchthingsrdone: Once upon a time there was a triangle / it had three sides / the fourth it kept hidden / in its burning center -Vasko Popa

TheAmScho: Vasko Popa, born in Serbia in 1922, is considered one of the great poets of the 20th century. “Give Me Back My Rags,” this week’s Read Me a Poem pick, exemplifies his succinct, idiomatic, and often surreal style.

SeanSingerPoet: Vasko Popa (tr. from Serbo-Croatian by Charles Simic

TheAmScho: For this week’s Read Me a Poem, Amanda Holmes recites “Give Me Back My Rags” by Serbian poet Vasko Popa.

michellemurphym: “Give Me Back My Rags” by Vasko Popa - The American Scholar A brilliant reading!

TheAmScho: Vasko Popa’s concise, elliptical verse draws frequently from surrealism and Serbian folklore. In “Give Me Back My Rags,” he imagines a childlike conversation with a mysterious nemesis. Listen to Amanda Holmes read the 14-part poem here:

TheAmScho: Listen to Amanda Holmes read “Give Me Back My Rags,” a poem in 14 parts by the great Serbian poet Vasko Popa:

TheAmScho: Vasko Popa, born in Serbia in 1922, is considered one of the great poets of the 20th century. “Give Me Back My Rags,” this week’s Read Me a Poem pick, exemplifies his succinct, idiomatic, and often surreal style.

TheAmScho: Give me back my rags My raglets of pure dream Of silken smiles Striped premonition And my lace-like sinews My raglets of polka-dot hope of filigreed lust Calico glances And the skin off my face Give me back my rags I'm asking you nicely

WritingWOMEN: “Give Me Back My Rags” by Vasko Popa

dodgemyeyes: Vasko Popa. I like this.

gastehowe: Vasko Popa tr: Anne Pennington, from "Give me back my rags"

MichaelMcAloran: I hear the familiar clash of dogs The clash of teeth on teeth I feel the dark of the jaws That open my eyes I see I see I'm not dreaming. Vasko Popa

dani_phstories: Fall then with all your weight Fall for days on end deep deep deep To the bottom of your abyss Who doesn't break into pieces Who remains whole gets up whole Plays Vasko Popa

aliner: Why did you marry so soon Your old glow To your young hollowness - Vasko Popa, “Heaven’s Ring” translated by Charles Simic

RealSardonicus: Goodnight. “And so my whole life passes Here on this field of fire” Vasko Popa

dani_phstories: Fall then with all your weight Fall for days on end deep deep deep To the bottom of your abyss Who doesn't break into pieces Who remains whole gets up whole Plays Vasko Popa

EntryLists: Los Cabos update: OUT: Fognini IN: Lucky Loser

Maraaaks: "We got lost in the uncharted forests of our meeting..." Vasko Popa Sljeme, Zagreb

Zoran54873135: New artwork for sale! - "White Pebbles of Vasko Popa" -

clara_engel: Vasko Popa was born 100 years ago today. I first discovered his poetry in an anthology when I was a teenager, & have loved it ever since. Translation by Charles Simic:

BudapestZani: Duck (from BARK: List) By Vasko Popa

Book_Addict: Happy birthday to Serbian poet Vasko Popa (June 29,1922), author of the 1978 verse collection "Od zlata jabuka" et al.

_Zeets: Have posted this one by Vasko Popa before, but I really adore the poem

AakritiKuntal: Vasko Popa and his words that rain as pebbles blasting through skin... The imagery, for me, almost always evokes a hallucinatory sensation. A space or hypothetical realm is carved, co-existing in the mind's eye and rooted in the visceral intestine of the human condition. -AK

biancastone: It's all an ugly dream of dust Can you hear me --Vasko Popa Trans. Charles Simic

LizSennitt: My Name is Abilene is my 4th full collection & forthcoming with Salt Publishing: 'an effervescent fable-world of desirous bodies and broken-hearted people, akin to Vasko Popa[...]this tightly-wrought telling of in-between lands and emotional states is a haunting'--Rachael Allen

aliner: One wrinkle on my face to be your path. - Vasko Popa trans. by Charles Simic

aliner: Throw in your shadow You’ll take out the shirt of happiness - Vasko Popa trans. by Charles Simic

SeanLemonhead: Warning: what strangeness might arise if you too read your children Vasko Popa poems as bed time stories..... "Once upon a time there was a yawn Not under the palate not under the hat Not in the mouth not in anything"

amonochromdream: I've recently become interested in the late Yugoslav poet of Romanian descent, Vasko Popa. Ted Hughes wrote of him, '.. his movement of verse... part of the method of investigating what does not exist.. fearfully apprehended'

SeanSingerPoet: Vasko Popa (tr. from Serbian by Anne Pennington)

dreamsofbeing_: It reminds me a little of one of the few poems wrote by Vasko Popa in Romanian, Sitting at the Table with Sadness: “if the wine is leaving / do not call for its return.” Of Rimbaud’s paradise of sadness.

Maraaaks: "You walk for an eternity by his personal infinity from head to toe and back..." Vasko Popa

SJSloat: For me it doesn’t get much better than Vasko Popa’s ‘Liitle Box’ poems, translated here by Charles Simic.

jackaalantern: Prepping for morning work is a Vasko Popa poem

Kaitlin_M_Ruiz: I stole this from someone on here, I can’t remember when exactly! but I’m pretty sure this is Vasko Popa? if you can point me toward the source, I’d be really chuffed.

Maraaaks: 1/1 "The truth sang in the dark At the top of the linden tree, in the middle of the heart The sun says it will ripen On top of a linden tree in the middle of the heart If his eyes light up... Vasko Popa, A Song of Young Truth

Maraaaks: 1/2 "We made fun of the song Captured and bound the truth And there they cut it under the linden tree The eyes were busy Out in the second darkness And they saw nothing" Vasko Popa, "A song of young truth"

marcowenjones: In The Village Of My Ancestors - Vasko Popa

SeanSingerPoet: Vasko Popa (tr. from Serbian by Anne Pennington)

PoetNotRockStar: “I’ll be just what I am Without root without branch without crown I’ll lean on myself On my own bumps and bruises.” — Vasko Popa, from ‘Give Me Back My Rags’, Collected Poems, 1943-1976 (trans. Anne Pennington)

Maraaaks: "To your eyes that it is not There would be no sky In our small apartment Let there be no laughter of yours Walls would never They disappeared from sight Your hand is not The sun would never In our dream we spent the night." Vasko Popa

LizSennitt: Elisabeth's My Name is Abilene is an effervescent fable-world of desirous bodies and broken-hearted people, akin to Vasko Popa -- linguistically wide-ranging [...], this tightly-wrought telling of in-between lands and in-between emotional states is a haunting.' – Rachael Allen

sherlyholmes: Poem of the day: “The Story of a Story” by Vasko Popa, translated from the Serbo-Croatian by Anne Pennington.

SeanSingerPoet: Vasko Popa (tr. from Serbian by Anne Pennington)

SeanLemonhead: I'll love Awkward poems. Strange syntax and meter that is as much sound, like Wanda Coleman and Juan Fillip Herrera, Emily Dickinson, and Vasko Popa. So different but share a concern for unique music.

gayle_dallas: Give me back my rags My rags of pure dreaming Of silk smiling of striped foreboding Of my cloth of lace My rags of spotted hope Of burnished desire of chequered glances Of skin from my face Give me back my rags Give me when I ask you nicely —Vasko Popa

DraganVavan: . Give me back my rags My raglets of pure dream Of silken smiles Striped premonition Vasko Popa . Give me back my rags by Dragan Todorović

gayle_dallas: Give me back my rags My rags of pure dreaming Of silk smiling of striped foreboding Of my cloth of lace My rags of spotted hope Of burnished desire of chequered glances Of skin from my face Give me back my rags Give me when I ask you nicely —Vasko Popa



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