poetry

Dorta Jagić: Some Selected Poems

Dorta Jagić writes poetry, short prose pieces, drama and theatre reviews, and translates from English and German into Croatian. Since 1999, she has been involved with various amateur theatre groups as a director and educator.
Her work has been widely translated.
Her poetry has been awarded both in Croatia and abroad.



 

CIRCLES

 

autumn is here already.

the season of falling to the heart

and I am stuck at the mouth.

how many more dates with gray gassy pins

that all have to be hit by the logic of the bowl

filled with king David's verses?

the classic chestnut is here already.

how many more Jeremiah's sweetbreads

must I eat in order to be purified?

the black lady bag is torn already

the one I asked for

this summer

and then got it as a present

 

(translated by Daniel Brcko)

 

 

HONEYMOON ON TRAM

 

on Sunday nights after the service

on a foggy tram I can always begin to create

from nothing.

not even the major is there, or a canary.

there is no love letter that

the female ticket inspectors have left in the ticket machine

no dry towel, no pink-shoe polish,

no ladies' room.

not a single cardboard box with an abandoned

little girl and a note.

by the look of the pathetic bareness of Czech windows

and seats it is obvious that the first thing that king's time-eaters

do on a tram is shift their clocks to winter time.

I could cry over a slice of bread that somebody has thrown away

and a glass of red wine on a stair

by the front door.

I do not feel like it because there is no music or heating,

or that screenwriter from htv

who does not believe that man went to the moon.

no fake M.A.'s with flat feet

or leftover mines under the seats.

on a cold tram number twelve seen or bothered

by nobody

I am dragging a cable all the way from God to my permanent dear

to the neighbor husband called almost as me.

I wish I could finally drag him over here and sit him down, at least

to the last stop.

all I know is that he is handsome as a Gypsy and

that he uses paintbrushes to move around.

but there is nobody on the deserted seats

to read him his rights and handcuff him

in case he comes in at the next stop.

and if he happens to ask me the same cheeky question has you married

how am I supposed to go on my honeymoon

with all these accordions and wedding dishes

before the Kvaternik square stop.

 

(translated by Daniel Brcko)

 

 

SONG OF THE YOUNG LADY SAINT

 

in the meadow above grandma's house
as a child a snake bit me
and it promptly died
i ran into the house
no one was there, i just
heard from the humanoid butterfly
agnus dei!
how beloved am i
before the first mountains and the first strawberries
embraced, softly strung up
invented before the invention of wheat and salt
how fully i belonged to the first things

not even the world's stupid pan on top of the head
no sob no ear swollen as a pie
can peel me now
like a potato skin and toss me
into the roman-public mud
while i dance and skip in front of grandma
who's back from the store
his head's inside me like a lantern
and his blood in my throat like vanilla
even before the world began my hair was growing
and today i have long hair
i comb with a red-hot comb
every day i cry over the open
mirror in my hand
those who haven't met
the god of israel
comb their hair in panic
to the wrong side
 

 

(translated by Ana Božićević)

  

 

SONG OF HOMELESS

 

there're many sparrows

they fall on the town like snow off God

and only a few silken bread crusts on the sidewalks

when you want them in your hand

hot chestnuts fly too high above dark

zagreb, black town

of grey hair and neon ads, at its command

parks multiply, and quick lapsing shadows,

dappled balls and strollers, some faces

shed leaves and rusty brown wallet clasps

the banks spin on their axes

merry rows of kisses pass me by

the murmur of hugs

the lidias dapple and the ivanas nest in warm slippers

tv antennas sprout atop buildings like enameled teeth

red lamps come on

too bad, i no longer follow the graceful motion of branches

the stellar night sea thins out

those yellow shooting stars fat with salt

i say

one just mustn't go to bed riddled with frostbite

should set a fire along the body's edges

pour oneself an alcoholic star,

fall headlong into the night and say:

good knife!

 

(translated by Ana Božićević)

 

 

CANTATA ON COFFEE

 

 

at the table in the cafeteria that is a barbershop and a casino

i.e. the whole world

I am sitting and drinking Turkish coffee with French king Louis XIV

(the first espresso machine has yet to be invented in about two hundert years,

so I'm sipping a blackie)

watching silently through the smoke

my huge red tail growing much like Louis's one

while he is bragging how his little Dutch coffee tree

had been a mother to millions of others in America andall around the world.

meanwhile in the corner seven aristocrats quietly play a game of ombre

sipping on their coffees from handless cups.

here and there they show their thin serpent-like

tongues

enveloped in fat brownish tar.

somewhat closer to our table ever more humpbacked

the Coptic monks murmur something over their chalices,

while the Arab doctors debate whether Arabica is any better than coffea robusta.

just as I, drowsier than before, mention to Louis

that I've grown sick and tired of that idle rital

and that I shall never have a single one ever again,

doctor Silvestar Dufour, the discoverer of caffeine, walks in

correcting me impatiently from afar:

no, darling, you shouldn't call it coffee or nutmeg but rather Arabic wine.

due to fermentation - that's orginal name.

bypassing the crowded table where they read coffee grounds

he comes over and sits with us.

the waiter swiftly brings him freshly-squeezed orange juice

telling him how yesterday, after enjoying his first cup of coffee

silly Pope Clement VII proclaimed it publicly a Christian drink

upon which they all had a sip of blackie and laughed.

Finally I stamp out the little serpent below the table with my foot

and get up to pay the bill as Louis is always short

thinking to myself

how clever were those merchants from Italy

selling wine and lemonade

when they called it

the devil's drink.

 

(translated by Damir Šodan)

 

 

A LADY SAINT FROM NOBODY CALENDAR

 

as in Heaven, so on Earth

when she rubs her lips with oil

she grows big and takes off her shoes

like a water-walker

wading into the river

to jump from joy

every single day

for being able to speak out

the unsurpassable inconceivable wonder

first she

than that little wild boar

waiting under a stone

to be summoned

into existence

  

 

(translated by Damir Šodan)

 

 

 

31st BIRTHDAY

 

if that morning
even if it is your 31st birthday
you dont get out of a cake
or bed as a Gods child
wearing a leather waistcoat with embroidered red skates
your whole day is littered with worries,
as if with tissues for cleaning eyeglasses
and something like a spread out peace of well-worn wolf skin
hardens on your purse
and on the zipper of your trousers
catching your nails, your mobile phone and wallet
disturbing cosmic signals
sent to you by some ressurected supreme being
on days like that you stuff yourself with chicken for lunch
and sit down to write average chick poems
due to that growing tension in your neck
and the rising water level of Cetina River
then you call your editor, your cousin and your only living grandma
while the messy monster squirts inside
your womb crying quietly and sipping on black coffee
whining below your armpit at dusk
only to rip you open and fill you up with stones at night
even though it is him who is actually dead
and ridiculous
the next day hunters and surveyors ogle from window
now worry failed yet again
to extend the life of the birthday girl
by at least one more
bloody elbow.
 

 

(translated by Damir Šodan)

 


 

ROOM OF A LADY TRAVELER 

 

when I come back home with my sullied suitcase
what shall I do?
I sat long and wonder at the sill
why all roads lead not to Rome or Moscow
but just this room

to this dry paternal cube
to the hard box of constant dimensions
ridiculously distorted in its standing
like an exercise bike

I, large and golden
with fluid passports in my hair
a student girl of world aerodromes
always bound again
with the four safety belts
of its empty walls

once again after the seaside
to sit with a torn ticket in this room
is about like
hanging upside down
pendant from a thin hook in the wall,
from force of circumstances
from accident
the flutter of butterfly wings in Peking
pendant on someone's wish
here to wait for the big days
of christening, wedding and graduation
like the family
ham on the bone

(translated by Graham McMaster)

 

CHILDISH ROOMS

 

some old rooms from childhood
in time become ever more dependent
on dust and and attention,
fussily infantile, contrary.
little girls-old ladies.
for example, if this is really my room
why does it not shine like johnsons wax
all by itself as before
why does it give out so many kilos od dust
each day on all those worthwile things?
as if it were in secret snorting
this grey vampire dandruff
or shooting right into the vases, carpets, me
as if to forget something painful,
no. after all that girl-old lady
deposits the fine ground remains of things
for her pensioner "5 o' clock" cocoa
that shell sip with melancholy
with the oder abandoned rooms
in the neighbourhood when I leave it for some
riper, mature
other

 

(translated by Graham McMaster)

 

 

o nama

Dobitnik nagrade "Sedmica i Kritična masa 2020" je Filip Rutić

Dobitnik književne nagrade "Sedmica i Kritična masa 2020" za mlade prozaiste je Filip Rutić (1997).
Nagrađena priča ''Riža s kečapom, blagim ili ljutim” ima snažan pečat 2020, a autoru je uspjelo kroz nepretenciozan ton i jedan neobičan odnos dati sliku opće nestabilnosti u eri korone i potresa.
U užem izboru nagrade, osim nagrađenog Rutića, bili su Lucija Švaljek, Iva Hlavač, Luca Kozina, Marina Gudelj, Vid Hribar i Darko Šeparović.
Ovo je bio peti nagradni natječaj koji raspisuje Kritična masa, a partner nagrade je cafe-bar Sedmica (Kačićeva 7, Zagreb). Nagrada se sastoji od plakete i novčanog iznosa (5.000 kuna bruto). U žiriju nagrade bile su članice redakcije Viktorija Božina i Ilijana Marin, te vanjski članovi Branko Maleš i Damir Karakaš.

intervju

Filip Rutić: Književnost bez novih glasova i perspektiva pretvara se u historiografiju

Predstavljamo uži izbor nagrade ''Sedmica & Kritična masa''

Filip je u uži izbor ušao s pričom ''Riža s kečapom, blagim ili ljutim''. Standardnim setom pitanja predstavljamo jednog od trojice muških natjecatelja.

o nama

Natječaj ''Sedmica & Kritična masa'' 2020 - uži izbor

Nakon šireg izbora slijedi uži izbor nagrade ''Sedmica & Kritična masa'' za mlade prozne autore. Pogledajte tko su sedmero odabranih.

o nama

Natječaj ''Sedmica & Kritična masa'' - popis šireg izbora, pred objavu užeg

Natječaj ''Sedmica & Kritična masa'' za mlade autorice i autore do 35 godina starosti bliži se svome kraju. Ovo je peto izdanje nagrade, utemeljene 2015. godine, koja pruža pregled mlađe prozne scene (širi i uži izbor) i promovira nova prozna imena. Prva nagrada iznosi 5.000 kuna (bruto iznos) i dodjeljuje se uz plaketu. Prethodnih su godina nagradu dobile Ana Rajković, Jelena Zlatar, Marina Gudelj i Mira Petrović.

proza

Marina Gudelj: Ljudi na uglu ulice, pokraj prodavaonice pića

NAGRADA "SEDMICA & KRITIČNA MASA" - UŽI IZBOR 2020.

Marina Gudelj (1988., Split) završila je Hrvatski jezik i književnost na Sveučilištu u Zadru. Radi kao nastavnica Hrvatskog jezika u školi. Prvi književni rad, kratka priča Semafor, šahta, apoteka, birtija objavljena je u Zarezu 2015. godine. Iste je godine osvojila prvu književnu nagradu na portalu KSET-a za priču Kamo idu irske mačke. 2017. godine osvaja prvo mjesto na natječaju Kritične mase za priču Lee. S istom pričom iduće godine sudjeluje na LitLink festivalu u Zagrebu. 2018. godine osvaja treće mjesto s pričom Dulcinea na konjaku na 17. izdanju Festivala europske kratke priče, a krajem iste godine ulazi u uži izbor natječaja Prvi Prozak i Na vrhu jezika s pričom Vještica. 2019. godine osvaja nagradu Prvi Prozak za autore do 35 godina starosti, a objava zbirke priča očekuje se sredinom 2020. godine.

proza

Vid Hribar: Bilješke za preživljavanje

NAGRADA "SEDMICA & KRITIČNA MASA" - UŽI IZBOR 2020.

Vid Hribar (1993., Zagreb) je trenutno na završnoj godini diplomskog studija na odsjeku dramaturgije pri Akademiji dramske umjetnosti u Zagrebu. Piše scenarije, drame, poeziju, kratke priče, uz to se bavi komponiranjem i sviranjem klavira u brojnim zagrebačkim bendovima. Na radiju se izvode njegove ''Nule i ništice'' (2017.), radiodrama inspirirana motivima Harmsove istoimene zbirke kratkih priča, drama ''Oskarov san'' (2019.) te ''Od Vlaške do Britanca'' (2019.). Njegova drama ''Tuneli'' prevedena je na makedonski jezik od strane Makedonskog centra ITI, a njegova drama ''404'' objavljena je na portalu drame.hr. Kao kompozitor radi na nizu kazališnih, filmskih, televizijskih te radiodramskih projekata.

proza

Luca Kozina: Grbava plesačica

NAGRADA "SEDMICA & KRITIČNA MASA" - UŽI IZBOR 2020.

Luca Kozina (1990., Split) piše prozu i poeziju. Radovi su joj objavljeni u časopisima: Zarez, Fantom Slobode, Mogućnosti, Republika, u zborniku Rukopisi 43 te na internetu (Zvona i Nari, Književnost Uživo, Kultipraktik, Nema). Dobitnica je nagrade Prozak za 2019. godinu. Piše književne kritike za portal Booksa. Članica je književne grupe NKV.

proza

Petra Bolić: Hans.

NAGRADA "SEDMICA & KRITIČNA MASA" - ŠIRI IZBOR 2020.

Petra Bolić (1992., Varaždinu) studirala je francuski jezik i književnost, kulturološku germanistiku i književno-interkulturalnu južnoslavistiku na Filozofskom fakultetu u Zagrebu i Karl-Franzens Universität u Grazu. Znanstveno polje interesa su joj njemačko-južnoslavenski kulturno-književni transferi i suvremena slovenska proza. U slobodno se vrijeme bavi književnim prevođenjem i književnom kritikom. Vlastitu je kratku prozu do današnjega dana skrivala u ladicama.

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Ivana Pintarić: Propuštanje riječi

NAGRADA "SEDMICA & KRITIČNA MASA" - ŠIRI IZBOR 2020.

Ivana Pintarić (1988., Zagreb) je edukacijski rehabilitator. Piše poeziju i kratke priče. Ulomkom iz romana ''Gorimo (ali ne boli više)'' ušla je u finale izbora za nagradu "Sedmica & Kritična masa" 2015. godine. Ulazi u širi izbor nagrade "Sedmica & Kritična masa" 2017. ulomkom iz romana "Ovo nije putopis o Americi". Bila je polaznica Booksine radionice pisanja kratke priče pod mentorstvom Zorana Ferića. Objavila je radove na portalima kultipraktik.org i booksa.hr. Objavila je priču u časopisu Fantom slobode. Članica je književne grupe ZLO koja okuplja mlade pisce različitih književnih afiniteta i usmjerenja, koji zajednički promiču ''mladu'' književnost, sudjeluju na književnim natječajima, festivalima te organiziraju književne susrete i čitanja.

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Josip Čekolj: Kokoši ne letiju visoko

NAGRADA "SEDMICA & KRITIČNA MASA" - ŠIRI IZBOR 2020.

Josip Čekolj (1999., Zabok) student je treće godine kroatistike te etnologije i kulturne antropologije na Filozofskom fakultetu u Zagrebu. Dosad je svoje pjesme i kratke priče objavljivao u hrvatskim i regionalnim časopisima i zbornicima poput ''Rukopisa'', ''Alepha'', ''PoZiCe'', zbornika Gornjogradskog književnog festivala, Po(e)zitive i drugih te na portalima Kritična masa, Strane, Poeziju na štrikove, Čovjek-časopis i NEMA. Ovog ljeta izdaje dječju slikovnicu ''Srna i Mak u potrazi za uplašenim mjesecom'' u nakladi Mala zvona. S pjesničkim rukopisom ''Junaci i zmajevi su izumiruće vrste'' ušao je uži krug za nagradu ''Na vrh jezika'' 2019. godine.

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Ana Vučić: U Limbu

NAGRADA "SEDMICA & KRITIČNA MASA" - ŠIRI IZBOR 2020.

Ana Vučić (1992., Karlovac) još uvijek pokušava završiti Kroatistiku i Sociologiju na Filozofskom fakultetu u Zagrebu. Dosad su joj objavljene neke pjesme i jedan ulomak u studentskim časopisima i na Kritičnoj masi. Otkad je Jastrebarsko zamijenila Zagrebom piše tek neznatno više. U slobodno vrijeme čita, gleda sport i serije te mašta o obrani diplomskog rada u normalnim okolnostima. Vrhuncem svoje dosadašnje književne karijere smatra sudjelovanje na prvoj Kroeziji u kafiću Luxor.

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Ivan Katičić: Klošari

NAGRADA "SEDMICA & KRITIČNA MASA" - ŠIRI IZBOR 2020.

Ivan Katičić (1990., Split) objavio je zbirku kratkih priča ''Pet metara bliže zvijezdama'' (Pučko otvoreno učilište Velika Gorica, 2016.). Živi i ne radi u Omišu.

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Gabrijel Delić: Orlovski

NAGRADA "SEDMICA & KRITIČNA MASA" - ŠIRI IZBOR 2020.

Gabrijel Delić (1998., Zagreb) napisao je nekoliko članaka na temu automobilizma objavljenih na jednoj britanskoj web-stranici i poneku kratku priču od kojih je zadnja objavljena u regionalnom natječaju ''Biber'' za 2019. godinu.

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