Image default

Irina Markić, Poetry


When I was a child
I wrote thousands of essays
“Winter in my street”
Winter in my street
Branches have white dresses
Branches have white coats
And the grass too
And the grass too
White hats
White gloves
Red shirts
When I grew up
But stayed immature
I wrote thousands of poems
None of them about winter in my street
Trees are breaking under pressure
Grass is on the table
In the park
Left for buddies and evening fun
Some dog got shocked by electricity
He didn’t die though
Trams are decorated
Like cheap bar singers
With money in their cleavage
Screaming into mic
Belgrade is white
For a sec
Clouds are out
To ski
Tempus fugit
Winter in my street
Friends ran away from my street
To another streets
Where there is no four seasons
Or electrocuted dogs
Or waiting for trams
Or decorated trams
No beggar there
With can of Nutella
“Oh father do you mind?”
Their father doesn’t mind
My father doesn’t mind
Or his father wouldn’t mind
If I burn a smoke
Or burn my traces
And run away from here.
No guy rollerskating in a train
They didn’t decorate trains
Such a discrimination
Fuck it
No guy with a beard
That sells shoes
And says they are crap
No guy with newspaper
Faces from news move around
Stamp train tickets
Clouds cheer
They wish to skate
And to sled
They will get caught in wires
And get shocked like the dog
End up in newspapers
Or on TV
Like a sad story
Hands are frozen
Fingers stuck together
Snowballs in hands
We need some cheer
Everybody can sled
Here, take this ball
It is so cold
In this white city

Irina Markić, Ethnologist and anthropologist. She has never been professionally engaged in anthropology but it has given her the insight and shaped her perceptual device through which she meets the contemporary world and reflects on various cultural and social differences phenomena. She could be called a professional photograph, given that she has been engaged in photography for 5 years. In this area, she held an independent photography exhibition at the “Fashion Week” in BellExpo Centre in March of 2017, within the “InstaShot” best photographer competition of the Belgrade Fashion Week. Afterwards, she dedicated herself to the so-called street photography, where she finds her true self, and for a certain time she has been taking photographs in the streets of Jakarta, Indonesia. She has been writing, amateurly and shyly, far longer than doing photography, having published a few of her texts on web portals and in a couple of journals. She participated in the “Argh” poetry nights.

Translator, Dragana Rudić: Born in 1986. She finished her master’s degree at the Faculty of Philology in Belgrade at the Department of Comparative Literature. She lives and works in Shanghai where she is involved in the literary circles. She translates poetry, writes and publishes short stories and visual art.

This article was published in March of 2019, within the Awakening topic.

Read the other texts published in the Poetry section.

This article was originally published in Serbian and you can read it here. Translated into English by Dragana Rudić.

Related posts

Mari Maxwell, Ceannbhàn Magic


Mike Galagher, Poetry

Aleksandra Jovičić

Claire Bunyan, Poem


Leave a Comment