The poem I Am Fine was written as a form of self-support and as a means of connecting with those who live with anxiety or have been victims of totalitarian regimes. By the end of 2024, students in Serbia began to awaken those who had long remained silent about state corruption and violence. The verses are spoken by a colleague who saw herself reflected in them.
An interesting detail: Haris Džinović, a well-known folk singer in Serbia who had government support, also expressed his support for the student rebellion. This serves as a reminder that no depression is beyond healing—it is only a matter of time and momentum.
All photographs in the accompanying video were taken in Belgrade by Ilija, the poet’s son, who is currently studying sound design at the University of Belgrade.
Below find the translation of the poem:
I AM FINE
I'm fine
thanks for the question,
I lie to myself and others every day.
I'm fine
It's nothing
Just like that, okay, no big deal…
nothing that can't be drowned in alcohol,
survive mental cancers
and calm down with herbal remedies.
it's good
I repeat to myself
grabbing the air with my teeth.
Sometimes I say something like:
"OK... there were better days",
I make a joke about it,
About murderers and scums
And my usual flaws...
(oh, winter of our discontent,
oh autumn sadness)
… but it lasts a short time.
And it hurts afterward - for a long time.
Especially if I can see
a confused, pitiful smile of approval,
disbelief, and false understanding.
When I realize "How are you?"
doesn't imply an answer at all.
And that the question mark
is not necessary, even in poetry.
Sometimes I nod my head,
I flap my ears,
I spread my mouth under the mask.
I wear my "I'm fine" as a mask,
to protect others.
I wear it like a placenta of pain.
I carry it like a handkerchief in my pocket.
Like an icon from the plague era.
I'm fine
I convince myself that
while alternately, madly,
I'm listening to the Dead Kennedys in my head,
and Louis Prima's greatest hits.
(in the absence of any order in time,
I'm trying to make the words rhyme)
Not with Haris Džinović,
because, after all, I'm fine.
And it does not come to an end,
My brother, mate, unknown friend!
"I'm fine",
was the last thought
of the rabbi at Auschwitz,
of the poet in Siberia,
of a worker on the scaffold
and rhinoceros head on the wall
I'm fine
the last thing that a firefly,
after passing his ass through the head,
had in mind.
“It's good.
They couldn't hit an elephant at this distan...
(here, ironically, the last words
of some general goes)
I'm falling from the top floor.
And I see my neighbor changing her clothes.
I'm sinking, but I have breath.
This I have learned over time.
The almond scent of poison intoxicates me.
It is sweet, like ripe figs.
It's good.
So far, so good.
And you, how are you?
Translated by Aleksandar Mijalković
Narrated by Andrea Živković Muškinja
Photos by Ilija Mijalković
The project is part of the subtheme Healing Narratives - Poetry, Mental Health and Collective Trauma.
