Comments about Vasko Popa
Click to write a comment about Vasko Popa
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