Adisa Bašić

- Bosnia and Herzegovina -

Poet and journalist Adisa Bashich (Bašić) was born in 1979 in Sarajevo. She has a master's degree in Comparative Literature and a master’s degree in Human Rights and Democracy. She has published four poetry collections, Eve’s Sentences (1999), Trauma Market (2004), A Promo Clip for My Homeland (2011) and Motel of Unknown Heroes (2014). Her poems have been included in all recent anthologies of Bosnian poetry. Until Tomorrow, Then: Stories about Love and Marriage (2017) is her first prose book.

She is an Assistant Professor of Poetry and Creative Writing at the Department of Comparative Literature and Library Science, Sarajevo Faculty of Philosophy. For a number of years, she regularly wrote columns of literary criticism for the weekly news magazine "Slobodna Bosna".

In the summer of 2018 she was awarded Berlin Fellowship by the Academy of Arts. At the University of Graz she is currently completing the doctoral dissertation about erotic love and humor in the South Slavic poetry. In 2016 she was a writer in residence at MuseumsQuartier in Vienna.

She has spent a year in Marburg, Germany, studing German Language and Media Studies. She went throughout the United States twice with other writers (Writers in Motion) and had a bumpy train ride through the Balkans during the Word Express. Her story To Survive Hitchhiking was featured in a compilation of stories that won the UNESCO competition Bun(t)ovna p(r)oza in 2001, and in 2011 she won the third prize in Zija Dizdarević contest for her story Driving Home for Christmas. For the poetry collection A Promo Clip for My Homeland she has received the international award Literaris Bank Austria 2012: the book was translated into German and published at the Wieser Verlag. In the summer 2012 she participated as a Bosnian representative in the "Poetry Parnassus" Festival organized in London, on the occasion of the Olympics.

She read her poetry with great joy in many different places: at the prestigious Poets House in New York, at Harvard, at socialist Nazim Hikmet Cultural Center in Istanbul, under a Tuareg tent near the small town of Lodéve in Provence, at various bookstores and pubs, in Tešanj, Banja Luka, outside the library in Gradačac, at the UT Connewitz in Leipzig, Gorki Theatre in Berlin, at Belgrade poetry festival Pesničenje (Word-play)…

More about the poet

Poetry

COMMEMORATION / KOMEMORACIJA

your rib
healed twice
at one time it cracked by
the guard's steel ball
at another by the loving squeeze
of my legs

I kiss your healed temple -
the living flesh under your healed skin
I lick the scar out of which
blood oozed down your back,
I'm licking your blood

One broken leg of yours
remained shorter
this leg which I squeeze
so hard tonight
with my sensual thighs

this flaming head in my hands
once rotated
in the rhythm of the guards'
tireless fists

How good that you are alive!
how tasty your living flesh!

there is no one on the grass or the concrete tonight
you were lying on the concrete playground of the school

there's no one here tonight
only you and me
no flowers
no recollections
in the microphone
round like the steel ball
which breaks ribs

there is only me who kisses
the healed skin over the healed fracture
and you whose seed
fertilizes this waste land
Translated by Marija Petrovska
your rib
healed twice
at one time it cracked by
the guard's steel ball
at another by the loving squeeze
of my legs

I kiss your healed temple -
the living flesh under your healed skin
I lick the scar out of which
blood oozed down your back,
I'm licking your blood

One broken leg of yours
remained shorter
this leg which I squeeze
so hard tonight
with my sensual thighs

this flaming head in my hands
once rotated
in the rhythm of the guards'
tireless fists

How good that you are alive!
how tasty your living flesh!

there is no one on the grass or the concrete tonight
you were lying on the concrete playground of the school

there's no one here tonight
only you and me
no flowers
no recollections
in the microphone
round like the steel ball
which breaks ribs

there is only me who kisses
the healed skin over the healed fracture
and you whose seed
fertilizes this waste land
ALIPASHINO / ALIPAŠINO

We are children from a neighbourhood
which will never be found
on postcards.

Tourists do not come to our region.
We do not win the presidential elections in the second round.
And we do not speak any language better than our mother tongue.
We do not know we have twin brothers
in the cities all over the world.

Tourists do not come to our region.

Nothing is renowned here:
the primary school,
the supermarket, and the old walnut tree cut down a long ago.

Tourists do not come to our region.
And we have nothing to show them.
but ourselves.
Translated by Marija Petrovska
Mi smo djeca iz naselja
koja se nikad neće naći
na razglednicama.

U naš kraj turisti ne zalaze.
Mi ne dobivamo predsjedničke izbore u drugom krugu.
I nijedan jezik ne govorimo bolje nego maternji.
Ne znamo da imamo braću blizance
u svim gradovima svijeta.

U naš kraj turisti ne zalaze.

Ovdje ništa nije znamenito:
osnovna škola,
samoposluga, i jedan stari orah odavno posječen.

U naš kraj turisti ne zalaze.

I nemamo im pokazati ništa.
Osim sebe.
SUNBATHING / SUNČANJE

For Erna

Maybe our costumes
of that summer were not in
but we could not know that.
The sun blazed down
and we squeezed out
the last drops of sunscreen
lotion
on our
white faces.
On our skinny
milky white legs.

It blazed down; and when you listen carefully
you could almost hear
the clamour of children
in shallow waters.

But we were not allowed
to get up abruptly.
To stand upright.
Show our head.

Our secret beach
at the top of a skyscraper
would be eye-gouging
to a sniper.

We rejoiced in life and the sun
serenely. Carefully.
Smoothly. And horizontally.

Translated by Marija Petrovska
Erni

Naši kostimi tog ljeta
možda nisu bili in
ali mi to nismo mogle znati.
Sunce je peklo
i posljednje kapi kreme
za sunčanje
cijedile smo na svoja
bijela lica.
Na svoje omršavjele
mliječne noge.

Peklo je; i kad pažljivo slušaš
skoro se moglo čuti
praćakanje djece
u plićaku.

Samo nismo smjele
naglo ustati.
Uspraviti se.
Pomoliti glavu.

Naša tajna plaža
na vrhu nebodera
ubola bi u oko
snajperistu.

Životu i suncu smo se
radovale mirne. Oprezne.
Mazne. I vodoravne.
HEROINE / HEROINA

He is gone and gone and gone.
Things in the wardrobe have lost his smell.
Children only think they remember him.

He lay down long ago
and long has he still to lie...

Under some intact grass.
Under some piled up leaves.

He is gone and gone and gone.
And you guard a dull memory.
His face: a pressed flower.

We greatly praise your dignity.
You are the love we dream of.
You are the loyalty we hope for.
You are the picture that fits perfectly in our frame.

And he is gone.
And gone.
And gone.

No one hears the night.
You bite your hands until bleeding.
You finger yourself everywhere.
You hit your head against the headboard.
In your lonely bed, you know:
You do not remember him.
Translated by Marija Petrovska
Nema ga i nema i nema.
Stvari u ormaru izgubile su njegov miris.
Djeca samo misle da ga pamte.

Davno je legao
i dugo ti mu je ležati...

Pod nekom travom nenačetom.
Pod nekim lišćem taloženim.

Nema ga i nema i nema.
A ti bdiješ nad suhom uspomenom.
Njegov lik: presovan cvijet.

Silno hvalimo tvoje dostojanstvo.
Ti si ljubav kakvu sanjamo.
Ti si odanost kakvoj se nadamo.
Ti si slika koja tako dobro ide u naš ram.

A njega nema.
I nema.
I nema.

Niko ne čuje noć.
Do krvi grizeš šake.
U se stavljaš prste.
Glavom o uzglavlje tučeš.

U samotnoj postelji znaš:
ti ga se ne sjećaš.
WONDERFUL LANDSCAPE / ČUDESNI KRAJOLIK

On no account do I take my foot off the asphalt.

Our fragrant balsam herbs
spring from hand wires and blindfolds.

Translated by Marija Petrovska
Nogu nipošto ne smičem s asfalta.

Naša mirisna trava za mehleme
niče iz žica za ruke, iz poveza za oči.
CENSORSHIP / CENZURA

You disappear as if erased
from all the future family pictures
by the hand of an unrelenting censor.
Without any mercy.

No matter how broadly we smile
the shadow of your absence
from now on to eternity
will be the main theme
of every picture.
Translated by Marija Petrovska
Sa svih budućih porodičnih slika
nestaješ kao izbrisana
rukom neumoljivog cenzora.
Pomilovanja nema.

Koliko god se mi široko osmjehivali
sjena tvoje odsutnosti
od sada do vječnosti
svakoj slici
davaće glavni ton.
IMPROPER LOVE / NEPRILIČNA LJUBAV

You strangled your love like
a juvenile filicide girl who preserves her reputation
while tightening her grip
around a tiny neck.
It was buried secretly behind the house,
pretending it was never here.

Only the milk gave you away
It was dripping for days
from your ready nipples.
Translated by Marija Petrovska
Svoju ljubav ugušio si kao
maloljetna čedomorka koja
čuva obraz dok steže ruke
oko malog vrata.

Krišom je zakopao iza kuće,
pravio se da nikad nije bila tu.

Odavalo te samo mlijeko
što danima je kapalo
iz tvojih spremnih bradavica.
PEOPLE SAY / LJUDI GOVORE

"They never said an ugly word about the people who did it to them. They were only astonished about what they experienced." Jean-René Ruez, chief investigator in Srebrenica, about the survivors

Ignorance

He says: Make the sign of the cross!
And I did it.
But I did not know how
so I did it with my whole hand.
Well then he hits my hand
with the flat of an axe.
But believe me, girl,
I did not know.

Natural Disaster
They portentiously brought us here
in one building complex:
several houses and
a garage.
You enter one, then another,
and a third one.
And then you come out dead.

Revenge
I know who
killed my wife and
son and
daughter.
I know, one of them came back.
Has a bakery.
But I make sure that
I never buy from him.

Shower
They sway like seaweed
while the guards are washing them
with fire hoses.
Around thirty men whom
I do not know. All naked.
And Haira, a bank clerk,
is among them.
Till today their bodies,
as far as I know,
were not found.

Occupation
I was a lawyer once.
Today I am a victim.

Birthday
We're all gathered
here. In front of
the battery factory.

And July was scorching hot.
On the asphalt
beside me

at the same time
a baby was being born.

Survivors
Two times
quietly
so that Mom would not hear
and get frightened
I took my Dad down from
the gallows.
Tanslated by Marija Petrovska
„Nikada nisu rekli ružnu riječ o ljudima koji su im to uradili. Osim iščuđavanja nad onim što su doživjeli.“ Jean-René Ruez, glavni istražitelj za Srebrenicu, o preživjelima

Neznanje
Kaže: Prekrsti se!
I ja se prekrstim.
Nego ja nisam znao
pa ja cijelom šakom.
E onda je on
ušicama sjekire po ruci.
A dina mi, cura,
nisam znao.

Elementarna nepogoda
Tu nas je dovelo
u jedan kompleks:
nekoliko kuća i
garaža.
Uđeš u jednu, u drugu,
u treću.
I onda izađeš mrtav.

Osveta
Znam ja ko mi je
ubio ženu i
sina i
šćer.
Znam, jedan se od njih vratio.
Drži pekaru.
Al ja gledam da
kod njega nikad ne uzimam.

Tuširanje
Lelujaju se ko morska trava
dok ih stražari peru iz
vatrogasnih šmrkova.
Tridesetak muškaraca koje
ne znam. Svi goli.
I Hajra, službenica
iz banke, među njima.
Do dan-danas tijela,
koliko ja znam,
nisu našli.

Zanimanje
Prije sam bila pravnica.
Danas sam žrtva.

Rođendan
Tu smo se svi
okupili. Ispred
fabrike akumulatora.

A ugrijalo, juli.
Na asfaltu
pored mene

u isto vrijeme
rađalo se dijete.

Preživjeli
Dvaput sam
tiho
da mati ne čuje
i da se ne prepadne
oca
sa vješala
skidala.
POETESS IN A TROLLEYBUS / POETESA U TROLEJBUSU

In one hand some chard, milk and bread,
And the other hangs tiredly,
and her third one caresses
far-away hills, gently...
Translated by Marija Petrovska
U ruci blitva, mlijeko i hljeb,
o drugoj umorna visi,
a trećom daleka brda
miluje, blago...
TRAUMA MARKET / TRAUMA MARKET

Are you not just a victim
that sells her trauma?
asked the Harvard blonde
whose brain is worth half a million.
In English I did not know how to answer,
Do you have any idea how right you are?
Nine deaths, bleeding eardrums,
Dodging bullets –
It all fits in the word trauma.
And yes, I am unable to say it in English,
I am afraid,
That's the only valuable thing I have.

Translated by Marija Petrovska
Niste li Vi samo žrtva
koja prodaje svoju traumu?
pitala me je plavuša s Harvarda
čiji mozak procjenjuju na po' miliona.
Na engleskom nisam umjela reći
Slutite li koliko ste u pravu?
Devet smrti, krv iz bubne opne,
Migoljenje između metaka –
Sve staje u riječ trauma.
I da, nisam umjela reći na engleskom,
bojim se,
to jedino je vrijedno što imam.
IN THE WORLD / U SVIJETU

In 1992
women bought flip-flops
with a plastic rose beside the big toe
(the fashion was, of course, short-lived)
and men grew a moustache
which they shaved off a few years later.

People went to big concerts at that time
and some weddings were celebrated
beyond any modesty.

In 1992 some families
changed their car seat covers
and many for the first time
had summer vacations on the Spanish coast.

Life was not interrupted. It did not stop.
It's strange that at some place life did not stop.

Translated by Marija Petrovska
Devedeset i druge godine
žene su kupovale japanke
sa plastičnom ružom što dođe pored palca
(trend, naravno, nije trajao dugo)
a muškarci puštali brkove
koje će obrijati nekoliko godina poslije.

Išlo se na velike koncerte u to vrijeme
i neka vjenčanja slavljena su
daleko od svake skromnosti.

Ima porodica koje su '92.
promijenile auto–presvlake
a mnogi su po prvi put
ljetovali na španskoj obali.

Život se nije prekidao. Ni zaustavljao.
Čudan je osjećaj da se negdje život nije zaustavljao.
FUTURE / BUDUĆNOST

Unwritten papyrus rolls
behind the glass of the museum showcases

prepared for big events
which did not come to happen.

What hindered the scribes?
A plague? A storm? A war?

Making papyrus is arduous:
one fiber after another after another.

We have not arrived. Something hindered us.
A plague. A storm. A war.

At our door. Without an announcement. It killed us.
Translated by Marija Petrovska
Svitci neispisanog papirusa
pod staklom muzejske vitrine

spremljeni za velike događaje
koji nisu stigli da se dese.

Šta li je omelo pisare?
Pošast? Nevrijeme? Rat?

Pravljenje papirusa je mukotrpno:
vlakno uz vlakno uz vlakno.

Nismo stigli. Nešto nas je omelo.
Pošast. Nevrijeme. Rat.

Na vratima nas. Bez najave. Ubilo.
LE FIGARO CAFÉ, NEW YORK CITY / LE FIGARO CAFÉ, NEW YORK CITY

For Elmira K.

The overpaid designer plastered
the walls with old newspapers. Le Figaro.
Just in front of me
(while I carelessly nibbled at a tiramisu)
October the 9th news of ten years ago
the day when a bullet strayed into her heart.

A meeting of two insignificant people,
a forgotten conference,
a match that finished long ago.

Just in front of me
(while I carelessly nibble at a tiramisu)
on the wall of Le Figaro Café
a designer gimmick -
a sheet from old newspapers.
News from times long past.
October 9th.
Ten years ago.
Translated by Marija Petrovska
Elmiri K.

Preplaćeni dizajner oblijepio je
zidove starim novinama. Le Figaro.
Tik ispred mene
(dok bezbrižno grickam tiramisu)
vijesti od devetog oktobra prije deset godina –
dana kad je metak zalutao u njeno srce.

Susret dva nevažna čovjeka,
zaboravljena konferencija,
utakmica koja je odavno završena.

Tik ispred mene
(dok bezbrižno grickam tiramisu)
na zidu caféa Le Figaro
dizajnerski štos –
list iz starih novina.
Vijest iz davnog prošlog vremena.
Devetog oktobra.
Prije deset godina.
CONSOLATION / UTJEHA

The doctor said:
Out of hundreds of shots,
Only one can be this precise.
(Which method
is used to calculate
how many you have to shoot
so that one is so precise?)
Such injuries from a stray bullet!
Fascinating.
Precise as if aimed
From a very short distance.
Translated by Marija Petrovska
Ljekar je rekao:
Od stotinu hitaca,
tek jedan može biti ovako precizan.
(Kojom metodom
se računa
koliko ih moraš ispaliti
da jedan bude ovako precizan?)
Takve povrede od zalutalog metka!
Fascinantno.
Precizno ko da je ciljano
sa vrlo male razdaljine.
UNIFICATION / UJEDINJENJE

historical unification
took place in the peace and discretion
of a small hotel room

nobody to call a press conference
to inform the media, CNN Live!
nobody to declare it a holiday!

on this day
schools should be closed
flags should be handed out
spontaneous gatherings organized…

…in the main city streets
traffic should be stopped
the meritorious should be presented with medals
the fallen remembered with a minute’s silence…

…today drums should be beaten
manifestos declaimed
smartest clothing donned…

… all should tremble with the weight of the moment
celebrating the unification of you and me
Marija Petrovska
historijsko ujedinjenje
odigralo se u miru i diskreciji
male motelske sobe

niko da sazove press konferenciju
izvijesti novinare, CNN live!
niko da proglasi praznik!

na današnji dan treba
raspustiti škole
podijeliti zastave
sazvati spontani skup...

... zaustaviti saobraćaj
glavnom gradskom ulicom
odlikovati zaslužne
pomenuti minutom pale...

... danas treba tući u bubnjeve
čitati proglase
obući najsvečanije odijelo...

... treba zadrhtati od težine trenutka
slaveći tvoje i moje ujedinjenje