David Albahari
DOM (extract)
…going home
the only place I know
take me there
where the days go slow
“On Main Street”, Los Lobos
Svako od nas je otišao na svoj način i svaki odlazak je bio drugačiji od svih ostalih, ali kada smo stigli na svoja odredišta, svi smo bili isti, jer niko od nas nije više imao svoj dom. I dok smo izlazili iz aviona, vozova, brodova, autobusa, kamiona, cepelina i letećih tanjira, nadali smo se da je bar nebo nad nama ostalo isto. Ali i nebo nas je izneverilo – sunce se rađalo na nekom neočekivanom mestu, kišne kapi su bile kao ježeve bodlje, sneg nam se uvlačio u uši i usta, pesak je pucketao pod našim zubima, vetar je zviždao neke nove pesme a planine su stajale kao počasna straža na horizontu. „Dobro došli u novi život!“ pisalo je velikim slovima, ali mi smo se sumnjičavo mrštili i govorili: „Ovako nepočinje novi život; ovako počinje stara smrt.“
Hver af os tog afsted på sin egen måde og hver afrejse var forskellig fra alle andre, men da vi nåede frem til vores destinationer, var vi alle ens, for ingen af os havde længere et hjem. Og da vi steg ud af fly, skibe, busser, lastvogne, zeppelinere og flyvende tallerkener, håbede vi, at himlen over os i det mindste ville forblive den samme. Men også himlen forrådte os - solen steg op hvor vi ikke havde forventet det, regndråber var som pindsvinepigge, sne trængte ind i vores øjne og munde, sand knaste mellem vores tænder, vinden fløjtede en ny sang og bjergene stod som en æresvagt langs horisonten. "Velkommen til dit nye liv!" stod der med store bogstaver, men vi skulede mistænksomt og sagde: "Det er ikke sådan et nyt liv begynder, sådan starter en gammel død."
Each of us left in his own way and each departure was different than all others, but when we got to where we were going we were all the same, because none of us had a home any longer. And as we disembarked from airplanes, trains, ships, buses, trucks, zeppelins and flying saucers, we hoped that at least the sky above us would stay the same. But the sky, too, betrayed us—the sun rose where we didn't expect it would, drops of rain were like hedgehog spines, snow got into our ears and mouth, sand crunched between our teeth, the wind whistled a new song and the mountains stood like an honor guard on the horizon. "Welcome to your new life!" was writ large, but we scowled suspiciously and said: "This is not the way a new life begins, this is the start of an old death."
...
(Dette er et uddrag – hele teksten kan læses som del af udstillingen eller I kataloget – se mere her)
(This is an extract – the full essay can be read as part of the exhibition or in the catalogue – see more here)
Writer (SRB/CA)
David Albahari (1948), a writer and translator from Serbia, has published nine collections of short stories and eleven novels in Serbian, including Leeches (novel, 2005) and Shadows (short stories, 2006).
His collection of short stories Description of Death won the Ivo Andrić award for the best book of short stories published in Yugoslavia in 1982. His novel Bait won the NIN award for the best novel published in Yugoslavia in 1996, as well as the Balcanica Award and Berlin Bridge Prize. His books have been translated into sixteen languages.
He is a member of the Serbian Academy of Science and Arts.
In 1994 he moved to Calgary, with his wife and two children. They still live there.
Contact:
Tine Møller Sørensen
tinezero@gmail.com