The Myth Of The Bird

6 months ago

nn027

@nn027

The Myth Of The Bird

1

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"I have been obsessed with desire all my life

To become a living bird for myself.

A bird that is only once

Maybe I should have tried that sooner.

I was a child and, very unmistakably,

I have reached everything I know how to believe.

Forming the formless, I took a handful of nothing.

And I didn't add anything. And I didn't take anything away.

I always had something new in the palm of my hand.

What a magical material!

What a wonderful line!

What a splendor of colors and surfaces, shadows, and light!

I have been obsessed with desire all my life

To create a bird different from all the others."

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2

Who feels the weight of the earth on his shoulders?

Like hidden pain, which belongs 

To the descendants of those in ancient times

He knew about the skill of hovering.

To that completely different species of our ancestors,

Not those that reach us with blood from the inside,

But there are some airy ones that touch us only from the outside

With lips as golden as eternity.

This is the genealogy from which we have inherited

It is incurable torture to think about.

And they received a pupil as a gift that did not add up

And does not transmit impressions.

Rather, it is a sense of the experiences of the future.

It is one thing: to see with the soul, and another: to see sight.

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3

Today, it is difficult to even describe those strange ancestors of ours

Overgrown with wind and light.

Hugs remind us only a little of their way of flying.

Or that, when we unexpectedly discover in ourselves

The possibility of creating such forms

From which, when one closes the ear and listens,

Reaching the wings.

If pedestals were known in their time,

These were not footholds and foundations, but catapults.

In too much passion to overcome everything that sinks

They wrote poems in space using such dimensions

Which brings us to the very edge of panic.

Already then, they are in tomorrow. 

Even then, they were us.

Miroslav Mika Antić

4

The myth of the bird

III

In memory of those wonderful, strong people,

I tried one twilight down on the river bank

to shape something completely unlimited myself.

To come up with that kind of austerity and purity

which would create a believable gesture from the fantastic.

I tried to teach my work to think.

To have white curiosity.

I dared to find the riddle

whether, by shaping something, we are taken away from ourselves

or we return to ourselves.

Miroslav Mika Antić