SKOPJANEC

Translated by the author. Proofread by: Aneta Naumoska, M.A.

SKOPJANEC
(THE SKOPJE GUY)

skopjanec
I only run into you in remote areas
never on the streets of Skopje
at railway stations and in foreign lands
in places with few welcomes
and a lot of farewells
it’s where our lives meet
and where our paths run jointly
leading us to our final destination
where we part
one to the North the other to the West

skopjanec
I only run into you in remote areas
never on the streets of Skopje
at railway stations and in foreign lands
in places with few happy faces
and a lot of crying parting faces
it’s where our lives meet
and where our paths run jointly
we’re but actors in somebody else’s shows
you play your part
I act out my role
destiny is the director
or the One we don’t trust

skopjanec
I only run into you in remote areas
never never on the streets of Skopje
at railway stations and in foreign lands
quite unexpectedly
and with no expectations
in-between the intervals of love relations
in hotel rooms with double beds
there is no white blood, no white semen
dribbling from the linen
there is a lot of TV and a lot of white wine
I not woman enough
you gentleman more than enough
(or gay enough)
both accurately dosed with friendship
a lot of respect, a lot of fascination
lacking love, lacking passion
it’s for the best, it’s perfect
weren’t you so elegantly intelligent
and gallantly courteous
as you are so goddamn handsome
we would have robbed
our friendship from its virginity
we move from one story to another
we create our own memories
we cannot erase
since they carved in our brain cells remain
like iconic movie scenes
they overflow like the colours of a photo
they echo like pearls and beans
you’ve given up art
I’ve blended into art
I ask you where your camera kit is
you say you’ve sold it
you ask me where my verses are
I slam my lines out, you like them
at least you seem to like them
what you truly mean you don’t tell
I cannot read your thoughts
you can read faces
it’s because you create images
there are very few bridges connecting us
so we’ve learnt not to destroy them
and guard them like a precious gem
and cross on the other side
when time comes
or when our path ends in Skopje

in Skopje
there are a lot of roads, crossroads
there are our friends expecting us
I ask you how often you travel
so I can mathematically figure out the chances
for an upcoming encounter
with an inevitable separation
I inform you about my next destination
and I don’t even approach the station
fearing I would bump into you again
fearing I would not be able to face the fact
that you have sold your camera kit
and have given up art, have become
a financially calculating banking manager
and I, a free wild rebellious ranger
I sleep with your friends oh dear!
the forbidden fruit – rule number one
in the male friendship book
we are friends too
(and of the opposite sexes)
and the more rarely we meet
the more we respect each other
the more rarely we run into each other
the more we feel happy about each other
the more we remember things
you in images I in rhymes
I in hi you in goodbye – God bless us
on foot, by train or by bus
we move straight ahead to Skopje
because all roads lead to Skopje
since Skopje is like Rome
all reunions and separations
take place there

skopjanec
I only run into you in remote areas
never on the streets of Skopje
at railway stations and in foreign lands
and I do travel often
on broad highways and endless paths
it is where I belong
but if you are ever in a need of
the opposite sex
to exchange silences and words
do turn to the infinity of the roads
and if they summon you embrace them
put new shoes on, pack old mementos up
you’ll run against the same changes
I’ll be the one you remember but some other,
the same but different
and it would be history repeating itself
and distance will be greeting
the vicinity among us
and as soon as we speak out our lines
and we animate the photos’ designs
we’ll greet each other
as if arranging a future meeting
but we surely know that
both time and place have been cheating on us
we are friends … keep in touch …
plunged in a deep sleep