LAZIĆ, Radmila Radmila Lazić, born in 1949 in Kruševac, Serbia, lives in Belgrade. She has published the following collections of poetry: This is it, 1974, The Real State ofAffairs, 1978, Dividing the Roles, 1981, Historj of Melancholy, 1993, and Stories and Otker Poems, 1998. For Dividing the Roles she received the UKS "Milan Rakič" Avvard. She compiled and edited an anthology of contemporary women's poetry Cats don't go to Heaven, 2000. Together with Biljana Jovanovic, Rada Ivekovic and Maruša Krese she published a book of anti-war writing The Wind Goes South and Turns back North. She founded and edited a journal for women's literature Profemina. Radmila Lazić, rodena 1949. godine u Kruševcu, živi u Beogradu. Objavila zbirke pjesama: To je to, 1974, Pravo stanje stvari, 1978, Podela uloga, 1981, Nočni razgovori, 1986, Istorija melanholije, 1993, Priče i druge pesme, 1998. Za zbirku Podela uloga dobila nagrado UKS "Milan Rakic". Autorka je antologije savremene ženske poezije Mačke ne idu u raj, 2000. Zajedno sa Biljanom Jovanovic, Radom Ivekovic i Marušom Krese objavila knjigu antiratne prepiske Vjetar ide na jug i obrce se na sjever. Pokrenula i uredivala časopis za žensku književnost Profemina. Sodobnost 2001 I 254 RADMILA LAZIĆ "I am to blame" When they ask me: Who is to blame? My ansiver is: I am- Dubravka Ugrešic I did not set myself alight I did not burn like a Christmas tree I did not die of sorrow I did not die suddenly I did not get incurably ill I did not kili a president I did nothing radical Nothing final Nothing for the front page Nothing to be remembered by future generations Friends don't pat me on the shoulder strangers and acquaintances don't express condolences Nor do they decorate me with laurels Nor am I crucifed By my own kind or those others. My house was neither bombed Nor occupied by a stranger I did not pack and unpack suitcases I did not stand in line for a viša Nor spend day and night in the cellar. I was neither in a concentration camp nor a refugee I did not run not knowing where - Coincidence has eluded me Sodobnost 2001 I 255 Radmila Lazić I wasn't aiming a gun nor was I aimed at I was not freeing - conquering towns - villages I did not use witchcraft I did not scatter wise words I did not write patriotic songs I did not give birth to a hero My contribution to history - null! I have nothing to say in my defence. Metaphysics of Twilight It is too late to teach my heart anything. I know too well the alphabet of suffering. I test things along the way. Life knows more than Sybil. Time stands stili. What bliss is on the way? Reality resembles a moth-eaten jumper - These are lines of a poem. Even so, life limps like some poor girl Whose desire is to marry well In spite of memory scars in her heart - Biography of fire and water. These are the useless and unfortunate stocks That one takes on a long and uncertain journey Which is our personal homeland On which everyone's foot steps like a boot. Each suffering is older than Cain, Including this one which has come like a distant relative for three days, but stayed on, made itself comfortable, filled every corner. And not a word about leaving! The tirne of miracles has passed. The tirne of building castles, Earthh/ and unearthh/ gardens From school-books and poems. The so-called lučk of the Greeks awaits us In a plače we shall never reach. Sodobnost 2001 I 256 Radmila Lazić So water the flowers and the heart From the same jug, if you can in some way. Time doesn't dry out, Nor does it does fly, as they say. Time eats its own images like its own children. Know that you won't be helped By pulling a duvet over your head Not even if you find a dear body waiting under it. Nor by sticking wax in your ears. The Siren song will be part of your howling. Those who are born lucky and less lucky Die before the death of their bodies, Wearing their own faces like clothes not their own, Like figures in the paintings by Hieronjrmus Bosch. He who wrote the sky, earth, the sea, And especially snow and dreams, Phases of the Moon, colours of leaves, our faces Seems far away and cold like the North Pole. Call this neither nihilism nor sacrilege. Wrong syntax, bad diction Faulty creation of the world - So many bones of contention have been thrown among us That one is sure to end up in front of your feet. Perhaps even when you have gathered your harvest, Balanced your accounts. When you have thrown your arms in the air Forcing upward smoke rings and dreams. Your desires will be dead-born. Widowed will be every hope. And not enough love to spread on a slice of bread. Translated by Evald Flisar Sodobnost 2001 I 257 RADMILA LAZIĆ »Kriva sam« Kada me pitaju: Tkoje kriv? Odgovaram: ja sam - Dubravka Ugrešič Nišam se spalila Nišam gorela kao badnje drvce Nišam presvisla Nišam naprasno umrla Nišam obolela od neizlečive Nišam ubila Predsednika Nišam učinila nista radikalno Nista konačno Nista za naslovnu stranu Ni za pamcenje pokolenjima. Ne tapšu me po remenu prijatelji Ne izražavaju sucut znani i neznani Niti me kite lovorom Niti me stavljaju na krst Domači - tudi. Na moju kuču nije pala bomba Niti se u nju uselio nepoznati Nišam pakovala raspakivala kofere Nišam stajala u red za vizu Ni dan-noc u podrumu. Nišam bila u logoru ni u zbegu Nišam bežala glavom bez obzira -Mimoišao me slučaj Sodobnost 2001 I 258 Radmila Lazić Nišam nišanila ni bila na nišami Nišam oslobadala osvajala gradove - sela Nišam bajala Nišam sejala pamet Nišam pisala petriotske Nišam rodila junaka Moj prilog istorijski - ništavan! U svoju odbranu nemam šta da kažem. Sodobnost 2001 I 259