BORN April 7, 1937 Bjeluša (Arilje)

DIED September 26, 2002 Belgrade

Branislav Petrović was a Serbian poet and journalist.

Branislav Brana Petrović graduated from the Mathematical High School in Čačak, studied at the Faculty of Law in Belgrade, but graduated from the Faculty of Philology, at the Department of Yugoslav Literature and Serbo-Croatian Language.

In addition to literature, Petrovic also had a journalistic career; he was a journalist in "Borba", a columnist for NIN, an editor in the magazine "Vidici" as well as in "Srpski književni glasnik". A selection from the columns, which he published in NIN, he published in the book "Squaring the Circle".

Branislav Petrović published his poems in the collections: Moć govora (1961), Gradilište (1964), O prokleta da si ulico Rige od Fere (1971), Predosećanje buducnosti (1973), Tragom prah (1976), Sve samlji (1977), Defense of the World (1980), To See Miracles (1990). He has won several awards for his poetry. His poems, poems and stories can be found in numerous anthologies and collections.

The poet Branislav Petrović passed away in Belgrade at the age of 65, after a long and severe illness.

1.His head is

His head is now the cube of the Milky Way

heart smell on the bee table

reconciled to himself he wanders endlessly

he drinks from a heavenly bowl.

What worms do is not destruction

the formation is a worm of mere play

the soul of the deceased offers healing

the living think that the sun is shining.

The living think that the wind is blowing

it actually takes your breath away in the summer

above deserted houses and the deaf universe

brave animals of mind and blues.

The living think it's raining

it is in fact a dead star cup

that in fact the dead man rules the world

that above the world gapes the Black Hole.

2.Yes, they come to me

Did my crazy bugs come to me,

are you kidding me some black streets,

al

that's why you're going to be like an old bitch

rot once after a good lunch.

Are you crazy sometimes my damari,

yes, horrors and drowsiness overtake me,

al

you are a book read to me

and I don't care who reads you now.

Do many remember my drunken dawns,

yes, the worst is being said about me,

al

he won't be waiting for you until morning

a poet who loved you overnight for two centuries.

Yes I will angels of practice

on the orders of the stars to arrest forever,

al

your heart is getting brighter

and your life changes into pihtije.

Did I spread lies like a leper,

did they see me dead at the club,

al

as always whenever I wanted to

as soon as it dawned I came to life.

Now in a forest house twinned with the forest

I order three hundred teas with rum

but it's just a coincidence (anyway),

is,

it’s so I wouldn’t cry.

And I have to tell you with a crazy mind

good thing you rum teas,

even if you were that beast of mine a long time ago

it would be an incomprehensibly famous tea party!

3.Morning Under the Limes

Don't forget the morning under the linden trees.

Already dead, and the heart is working, working.

Heart in humans, octopuses and cuttlefish,

the heart of love

and the heart is hungry.

I spent a long night with the crazy city.

With fake poets, charlatans, intruders.

With princes, poor, small-minded, almost Danish,

in the basements of mortuaries and barns.

The light of distant fields, the breath of rendering!

Smell, unreal, linden, I just blossomed!

Oh, it's like I was released from prison this morning,

I drink everything that exists above me as medicine.

Being able to be awake, at dawn, with the city!

Wander around bakeries, butchers, wander the markets!

Heart, frog from the chest, take out, steal,

and throw it to the ducks and their birds.

Become a monument in the square - oh misery!

Let the dzukci celebrate you through the ravines secluded in the village!

Let the hungriest lead you into eternity

and let him finally urinate on your mound.

4.When She Leaves You The One You Love

When the one you love leaves you.

When the one you love leaves you.

When the one you love leaves you.

When the one you love leaves you.

First you feel nothing.

First you feel nothing.

First you feel nothing.

First you feel nothing.

Then you feel one nothing.

Then you feel one nothing.

Then you feel one nothing.

Then you feel one nothing.

I'm going for a walk. I'm going for a walk.

I'm going for a walk. I'm going for a walk.

Where are you going in the rain? Where are you going in the rain?

Where are you going in the rain? Where are you going in the rain?

I love the rain. I love the rain.

I love the rain. I love the rain.

Bring an umbrella. Bring an umbrella.

I don't need an umbrella. I don't need an umbrella.

So go when you're crazy.

And you walk. And you walk. And you walk. And you walk.

And you walk. And you walk. And you walk .And you walk…

And everyone is watching you walk.

And you rain. And you rain. And you rain. And you rain.

And you rain. And you rain. And you rain. And you rain…

And you're better already.

And nothing hurts.

And nothing hurts.

Just a little… nothing.

5.How Ana Dialectically Lasts In Me

Ana was a flower

Ana was a wild cow

Ana is always invited when needed

some kingdom to save.

Ana took part in the children's conquest campaign

to the graves of fathers.

Anna sets in the evening

Ana warms up in the morning

Ana usually cries

when I am eaten by a bear in a big city.

The young men heard that

from neighboring fraternal countries

so it is to me every night

steal forty times.

6.How Anna Solves Crosswords

What are her intentions when she buries everyone else

only revives me?

Is there, Anna, a real reason to sleep so well?

I acknowledge the Poet, but I know:

no one can justify the air harder than her dark skin.

When Ana cries!

(oh I'm not lying to you)

it's more beautiful than fruit! From the rain!

From ... grilled crabs!

From ... whatever you want!

From a galloping bird!

Well, I guess I didn't gamble the whole of Europe for the sake of a joke!

And when he undresses!

Free and damned I attend (and I don't know how to survive)

the greatest miracle in the light!

I swear:

to warm you Ana, I would burn my bones too.

When he draws a ship! When I sow barley!

When he declares war! When he laughs!

When shellfish feed! When he catches a cold while hunting!

When he reads a magnet! When he buys a new dress!

When he drinks beer! When it suddenly comes!

When he loves proletarian leaders!

When my right hand! When the Greek alphabet!

When he dreams of flowers! When NOT!

The memory of the Inconceivable Boy will always be able to replace fire:

that's why my clouds are green, then green!

Well yellow!

So when the vocals come together!

Dear God, my glowing heads!

I can connect the sea with flowers on her lips!

I can be a rain clerk in her country!

I can imitate the Danube under her window,

or some other volcanoes,

I can swear to everything I have and don't have,

that the world exists because of Anna.

What are her intentions when she buries everyone else

only revives me?

Does Ana really have a reason to be so beautiful when she sleeps?

Both flowers and snails and the English all already know:

she can cure any disease with a kiss!

But I love her the most, the best, the best when she connects the lights,

when solving crossword puzzles.

She performs it as if she were playing!

And mani looks like the world is creating!

Who is Virgil's youngest horse:

he holds the world in one hand and illuminates it with the other!

For example, a word that can drink water is sought,

to utter itself, to burn, to fly, and to sleep.

A word that is not like other words:

a word that can solve crossword puzzles!

Then a little drama ensues:

the water flows behind its shores ...

Ana naked, in my palm, eternity makes sense!

(And she could, she doesn't care if she gets sick or sleeps.)

And while she is so dangerous I hold her in my arms

words are spoken, words are solved by themselves!

What are her intentions when she buries everyone else

only revives me?

At least he doesn't cover himself when he sleeps !?

7.How to Read My Song About Summer

So let's start with the first sentence about flight:

WE EAT A HUGE WATERMELON NATAŠA

EVEN KORUGE EATED

(if the turtle is in your arms let go

turtle to its aquatic homeland)

read slowly and thoughtfully never

don't think about what you read

code WE EAT stop think

have you eaten something in your life too

if you don't do it eat it right away

eat grilled apple fish

do not hesitate tomorrow will be late will disappear

apple fish and watermelon season is very short

also grapes are less and less in the markets

and cherries have been nowhere to be found for three hundred years

and after you have eaten well, continue reading

these songs

adjective HUGE (used here in the case)

you can skip just that

and care for adjectives are much more important nouns

therefore stop at the WATERMELON as before the source of the sea

your main job is to count the letters of this red ceremony

for the letters are these images of the sounds from which the earth rings

eight letters is your eight gods

throw a song take the gods for a walk

eight gods that's your whole watermelon

listen with your heart whether the deity is ripe to be

eaten

eight letters is your whole humanity

throw a watermelon

bring humanity into the summer it's like you're

wrote a song though

no song is as complete as the earth therefore

don't fall in love with the songs but

after two hundred years ask me where we stopped

we stopped at NATAŠA, that is your earthly and heavenly wisdom

don't take Natasha cornmeal too seriously

you can eat corn too

Natasha is Natasha and Natasha is not a wild rose Natasha

is humanism and the renaissance remember

merchants from venice remember

leonarda da vinčija don't continue reading the song about flight

because now summer is better for a friend

from every poem, this is how you should read this one

song.

8.Captain I Class

Here is her mother's black earth apple this summer

she got drunk!

Bravo apple

now the captain of class I will eat you!

By order:

I have

Anu

which is worth

a million times more than

my captaincy:

For her kiss

many would be a farmer

warrior

guarded his property.

Guys!

Disarm!

Soldiers rude!

I'll tell you how

Ana loves

I'll show you how

Ana gives birth to children

I'll teach you how

Ana innocent boys

from mothers abducted

frees from fathers!

In love!

It is stupid to go to war in March

when the snow melts:

Enter the inn

and in part

of his enemy

champagne brandy vodka

Ana's eyes pop!

Grass used for foreplay!

The best used grass!

Noise!

And you would get burned if Ana kissed you!

Ants on the move! Dead bird eggs!

Violets Violets!

I love you all I love you

even though I am a military person.

9.Kud Minu Zvezda

Where does the star go, the signal of eternal darkness,

what star is born when a man dies?

Terrible spaces and abysses gray,

reveal the secret of why man lives.

Or lightning that quarrels with mad thunder,

does he know why man is born in that world?

And once he was so wonderfully born,

what would he do, life liberated!

On the way through Eternity, who knows what awaits,

the unaccustomed Infinity of the poor man.

10.It Is Easy To Detect Fire In Ashes

It's easy to detect fire in the ashes -

I was the first to discover that a flower hates a bee!

I'm using secret electrodes

first found out what water is thinking!

What the sun shines on - all farmers know:

I have found the end in infinity!

I found out one long ago in May,

that infinity hurts from the end!

And more than that:

I'm having a cup of tea,

discovered that the end suffers from infinity!

A friend, wonderful, from the abyss of the forehead,

sheds stars on Banat villages!

And more than that:

I'm in Banat

found his crazy head in the mud.

11.Words Leave Me In Flocks

Now there is no more darkness into which I have not descended for my gold.

Naked and poor I fall into the abyss.

All known and gladly traded for the unknown

celebrating his death in advance.

It is easy for a bricklayer: when it is difficult for him to build a house.

It is easier for the doctor: when he is ill, he treats people.

The hardest thing for me is my pure love -

words leave me in flocks.

12.He's on your trail

He's on your trail

spies of incomprehensible zeal

loyal to the judges

cruel and fair

the tent was crucified on your desk.

Your lady brings him clean laundry

your daughter

living water in the palm of your hand

at his wink

your faithful dog will tear you apart

rodents and small birds

hunt for him your cat.

The dragon you feed on the manuscript

if only she would stay true to you.

13.I Can't Live

I can't live and I live,

when I die I will be born it seems to me.

O god god what did your son do,

you gave him a lyre he hung it on a peg.

And he groaned terribly like no one before him,

renouncing the song and himself and everything.

Serbia is a country where you can drink

poets are beaten for new discoveries.

When I reach the goal and reach the darkness,

let it be known that I did not have a homeland.

Time is omnipotent that grinds the stars,

to know that I didn't have parents.

Even his mother's most holy dawn

I invented it myself as a metaphor.

The mother is a constellation that sails through infinity

I begged for a long time to give birth to me alive.

And she gave birth to me alive like a light bulb,

but she let me into the crowd without a weapon.

And since I am out of darkness for the first time

I could not defend myself from the sanctuary.

And so far it has come about mother forgiveness,

I go back to you through the bones.

Only the wise constellations remember in their splendor

how cramped I was in infinity.

14.No, It's not Love

We looked at each other a little,

We laughed a little,

we talked a little,

and kissed a little.

No, it wasn't love!

You thought I didn't love you,

I thought you didn't love me

still:

parting somehow hurt strangely!

15.About Ana's Return From Summer

My gypsy girl came back from the sea blackened

blackened like an African queen just

I don't care what's there at sea one

dripca from Pancevo loved now

it's important that she came back to me because

there are dangerous sharks at sea there

there are sailors at sea

at sea alas could

is someone to snatch her knees from me

for a monument in his city

the pirates could

are the scoundrels to steal my story

we how it was how

it seems the sea has

whether the sea of the younger brother is whether

sea against war loves

whether the sea barrels of fresh beer ume

you have to swim like

the French love the gypsies

my beloved my

woman?

16.A sense of the future

We will be judged by future people.

As a true son, we do not love our father.

I already see the judge, smiling, judging fairly,

without mercy our reality, our songs.

Catching new magnets and ores

they will judge the light we walk through.

Wonderful heirs, they will judge strictly -

they will condemn us to be born again.

17.Panta Rei

Here I am playing football with a gang of hardened kids

a little like them a little to his malice

I shoot a penalty goal one zero

one zero

but the true one is just beginning.

Oh how I hate these smiling boys

these curly hairy cities in the light wind

oh how I would beat those beautiful child's eyes

those hearts galloping that copper

to eat that applause to my hit.

That torrent is defended by the sea

oh how I would go to war with all that stupid shine

which makes fun of me with a bird's flight

which grins ugly from every roof.

Al

the game goes on

See IT FLOWS

become four letters

become T

become E

become Č

become E

FLOWING

Heraclitus, you are really a scoundrel.

Well, this is not a song

but the match goes on

flowing man flowing river flowing cemetery

my frown runs

we have already taken the lead with two zeros

out of joy life jumped out of me through the ribs

I lie happy on the ground blind to the skills of a magician

for his sonic trees with fire instead of dark death

I don't see a cloud pouring golden rain

(and that's one of his terrible tricks)

I don't see a lump of river above the playground

nor the wind in the rock that builds houses

but the match is not interrupted.

My curly blondes are rushing

my dead are invading

a sea of ​​goals should be given to them

(grave me for underground shoes shoes)

their eyes need to open

their heads need to be torn off

here I am happy on earth

the grave is already kissing my hand

(alive was a big increase)

we won

we won

Heraclitus died.

18.Premonition of the Future

Their nights are cruel and long,

alas!

where are the burlaks from the Volga now?

In Serbia, the same sadness everywhere,

history terrible, painful and too long!

It's spring again!

Rain of kisses!

By kissing me you kiss the future dead.

Oh tell me if you can

to imagine my head like a skull?

In a deserted field, empty and deep

and an ant that lives where there was an eye ...

And a field mouse that he secretly wants

to drive an ant away and move in ...

And the bee, which lands when the wind blows!

On a flower that no one from the former ear! ...

The future is terrible!

Fate unhappy!

If only I could be that bee!

Blacksmiths of the world, throw hammers!

My head hurts from your smithy!

Let the new masters take the job

and may a new universe give birth!

For new hunters new and hunting grounds,

better be a mouse than be nothing.

And nibble a grain of barley and wheat,

and wash the cat's face with blood.

When a man burns, the whole world heats up -

when a man burns, then the ashes are everything!

19.Spring Sufferings

A wonderful opportunity to cry

because of the beautiful witch from the bonfire.

Or to drink in a secret tavern until death

due to future death.

So go to the cemetery and with the real sages

spend an hour or two as a teacher with students.

Become a source of murmur sing,

become a tica, fly away, disappear.

All the abysses of the mind all the feats of the heart

hook wonderful tica coward.

What love can't do I can't say

my dear brother will cure death.

20.Carousel

The executioner's fist fell into oblivion

Saturday my beautiful

washed unwashed

fridays my frown

all my days

when we are to die and we are not to cry

stooki jar of time

half-mad half-mad

see

at the moment they are bursting into pieces.

Even today, a few words appear in my solitude

carousel razroki player in space cities lures

piles of straw are spinning meadows, mountains

the slaughterhouses of the slaughterhouse are spinning

carts beggar charity good people

o an old man exercised his power to awaken

ATTENTION PEOPLE

see

a woman is getting ready for the air

God, do you show yourself now?

make it unsuccessful

pulling the dress to the knees.

The otters of my loneliness writhe in the air

for the sun closer to the sun

beauty must fly away

ship with heart whatever he wants

I grab the throat of the white Empty

on

the beauty ascended high

she didn't notice me!

Earthy!

Even today while this road is blooming

guest our fire in your green ice

the dead will rise at noon to hunt the lambs of summer

so that they may take him into their silence:

they will slaughter him with their toil

on the heat of life to bake it

they there

they will finally eat it!

Some take off alone, some have their own turtledove

some star love letter some memory

someone doesn't drive because they don't drive

someone does not ride because his bones want peace

someone doesn’t drive because they don’t have money

someone prefers sweets

only:

the parents executed the cubs

women husbands

snail shells

day sun moon benches in the park

pop mantle

policeman anarchy

the door lost its handle

Even today even today even today

whoever spins is not afraid of death!

21.Garbage

I.

It has long been believed to be the first

power of the world power of worms.

But when a lot of garbage prevails,

there will be no worms in the world.

No worms, no worms, no angry snakes,

nor the ear that listens to the nightingale.

No cat or dog, no beast,

not an eye looking at the lakes.

No octopus, no crabs, no rays,

no language to say it all.

European art, African flowers,

everything will be one garbage.

He will wait for everything, for everything,

already ready to jump the world's cloaca.

II.

The tragedy stinks. I'm not afraid of garbage either

he will not receive it from so much stench.

Roman, old garbage, he doesn't care

whether in shit or in the trash.

Proceedings, dictionaries, historical writings -

all that hangs over the garbage on the thread.

Scientific discussions, political articles -

all this is tied to garbage by tight chains.

Garbage of terrible ale with thick will digest

intimate diaries, letters, memoirs.

A book lover? Well, he will too

where so many books, jars, underpants, fruit.

III.

What will you add to the general garbage?

Socks? Underwear? A dog's soul?

No one will blame you (and we must not),

to attach songs to general rubbish.

Piles of garbage being smoked

add vomit of heart, soul.

Will those bottles, those plastics, those rags

can the garbage of your spirit endure?

The ghosts of garbage will receive

your ascensions, metaphors, rhymes?

With big trash let

and your songs go against the rivers.

Let them tear on a branch, on a leaf -

who gives you the right to stay clean?

Let them attack bees, beetles -

who gives them the right to love beyond all?

In the time of garbage all that will not

to become rubbish - it is already rubbish.

Well, you too, reconciled to the world,

go for the garbage, combined with the garbage.

I hope you will read all these wonderful poems of our Branislav Petrovic, I hope you enjoyed reading.