“I’ve been forever intrigued by the word but it took some time to discover which way to use it exactly. I’ve tried writing short stories and plays, and there’s an unfinished novel in my computer. Poetry got me instead – short and wicked, it’s powerful miniature capable of expanding your universe, whether you write it or translate it. That’s why I write and that’s why I translate poems.” – Marijana

Enes Kišević started writing a long time ago on a bank of river Sana in Bosnia. Years passed by, and the poetic word still flows through his life. He dreams of his poems and when they startle him from the sleep Enes puts them on a paper. His work has provoked musicians, actors and dancers to creation, and as he had put it – what else is art supposed to do? When he’s not putting words on paper, he can be found on stage as an actor. His poems can also be read in English, German, French, Italian, Arabic or Hungarian.

“As a poet and translator Enes and I met through a friend. The meeting happened at the moment I decided to translate again something into Hindi and at the same moment Enes wished for a translator who could take his word from Europe to other parts of the world.” – Marijana

एनेस कीशेविच की कविता (Poems of Enes Kišević)

अनुवाद: मारियाना यानयीच (translated by Marijana Janjić)


समुद्र के किनारे पर
एक ही कुर्ते में
बालक और वायु।


रोटी का टुकड़ा दे रहा है
बच्चा मुँह से लेकर
खिले हुए गुलाब को।

3. रिश्ता

किसका नाम है तू ?
किस आकाशगंगा,
किस राष्ट्र,
किस जाति का है तू ?
यह ठीक नहीं, सच में,
कि तू दुनिया के चारों तरफ़ ऐसे चक्कर लगता है :
आज पूर्व की तरह,
कल पश्चिम की ओर।
तू अभी ही निश्चय कर
कि किसका है तू।
अंत में बता दे
अपना गाँव।
हमें यह जानना ज़रूरी है:
अगर कोई अनहोनी हो
कहाँ खोदे कबर तेरी ?
किस देश,
किस प्रदेश,
किस ज़िले में ?

4. माली

अपने आप ही उसने त्यागपत्र दे दिया।
यह मैं न कर सकता हूं , बता दिया उसने।
अगर आप मुझे अनुमति दे दें
कि गेंदा के फूल भी यहाँ उगें।
तब मैं रहने को राज़ी हूँ। इसी तरह …
मुझे सिर्फ़ लिलि पसंद हैं
गृहपति के लब लहराते चलते थे।
इसलिए तुम्हें पैसे देता हूँ।
यह मैं न कर सकता हूँ , दोहराया माली ने
लिलि गेंदों बिना दुखी होती हैं।
कहाँ जाओगे बिना नौकरी भिखारी तुम
अपने शब्द घृस्पति थूक रहा था।
मैदान पर। रंगबिरंग भगवन की भूमि पर।
वहाँ, बुज़ुर्ग की नज़रें दिखायी दीं,
जहाँ आपके वच्चे खेलने गए हैं।

5. स्मृति

मन को आखों की याद है,
दिल को आखों की निगाह की।
मन को हस्थ की याद है,
दिल को हस्थ की मुद्रा की।
मन को शब्द की याद है,
दिल को शब्द के रस की।
मन को रूप की याद है,
दिल को काम के कसक की।
हर कुछ तो मन में घुसता है –
मन तो सिर्फ़ मन में ही।
हर कोई तो दिल में घुसता है –
और दिल  किसी के दिल में ही।

Poems by Marijana Janjić

पक्का अन्यत्रता

बताएँगे लोग तुम्हें – तुम चिड़िया न हो।
और तुम चिड़िया कि चिड़िया होंगे।
कहेंगे – तुम जैसा कोई
व्यक्ति दिखता न हो
तुम सिर्फ़ कहते रहते हो ऐसे।
और तुम वैसे व्यक्ति कि व्यक्ति
बिलकुल होंगे
तुम तो कहते रहते थे न।
बोलेंगे लोग न
और तुम हाँ ही होंगे।
तुम कभी नहीं उनकी कहानियों में होगे।
सहसा, तुम्हारी अन्यत्रता इतनी पक्का होगी
और तुम अपनी रूची का व्यक्ति भी होगी।

Easy women

Easy women walk easily
oh, with such ease do they walk lightly
oh, easy women
if it is so easy for you,
oh, it is so easy for you,
to hop around easy roofs, oh,
easy women smile with ease
easily do they sing rhythms of ease
they shake easily their easy hands
hey, ease up, easy women,
you cross the streets of this town too easily
how can everything be so easy for you
your hair, so easy,
easily slides into the world
it grabs dreams and wonders off the trees, with such ease, yes,
how long will you run around so easily, easy women,
the dark could catch up on you easily
easy rains and easy winds might take you away easily, yes,
oh, on the easy ferries of steadfast peaces, yes,
easy women, grab my hands too, with ease,
with ease, oh easy women, take me along, take me along with you


for thousand
on footsteps
and whispers
of birds
in the garden
day and night
she flipped
through her memories
for intrigues and
of people
she never ever
he kept chopping off
heads of men
since he
didn’t have the strength
to chop off

The stories of liberation

nobody remembers
the dreams
Scheherazade had
before the beginning of her career
of dark spirit mistress
in the name of king
the lord
the ruler
the head-cutter
the kidnapper of chastity of their
chaste daughters
they were so happy
he had been appeased
there was someone to hold
his hand
in the dark, his own or the nature’s, when he went to pee
someone is there to smile at him
when he threatens to slaughter everyone
because it’s his firstborn lawful right
so they don’t remember anything else
neither her swoons
nor her screams in the night
not her bruises cushioned in silk
nobody knows anymore
what her dreams were
before all that
what remains is…
who is actually
to remember?
what’s hers beside the voice
without the right to be heard?

You work

You work
You work to survive
to earn
to buy a car
to buy a fridge
to buy a new TV
to buy the newest model of washing machine
to buy a vacation in the bungalow
to buy time for all future vacations
to buy future of your unborn child from yet unknown partner
to buy 2 hours of luxurious massage (?) by smuggled in hands
to buy one more car to drive around with friends on sunny days
to buy snow ball in hot July afternoon on the beach
to buy your own unknown and foreign kid from strangers
to buy a day of laughter and mingling with people
to buy the comfort of solitude
to buy happy hours
to buy the doing
to work to work to work to work to work to you work
until you die

The modern

The modern lovers
they polish their nails to fit
the camera angle and background light,
they check their hairdoes
in squarish mirrors
that take note of their every move
modern, yes, so damned modern,
they are excellent in oral
sexy notes for the ears.
Since they are modern,
they know everything about
lover’s farewells
as the finger light whispers touch the keyboards
they, the unconquerable lovers,
the unparalleled compassionate sweethearts
always reachable for a soothing word
in early morning hours
they, with their perfect mirrored smiles and
curves, friends, confidants,
modern and experienced in learned
they still haven’t learned a thing

Editors’ note: Marijana Janjic found our website during her usual cruise of the web. She wrote to us from Croatia that she wished to send us some of her work. We replied back – pleasantly surprised and excited – Yes! Please!And this is what we got – her translations from Croatian to Hindi and English – of her own work and poet Enes Kišević.
It is always a blessing when we come across a new contributor for Aainanagar. But then, there are other linguistic realities within which we live. The increasingly monolingual world, where to write in English is to get the passport to the world of “global literature”, whereas, other “smaller” languages are relegated to the obscure space of the local. To which, we too, have given in, in many ways. We fell in love with Marijana’s desires to write and translate in a language that’s not her own (Hindi). We fell in love with Marijana’s desires to write and translate in a language that’s not her own and is not English.
Hence, although we are not competent readers of literary Hindi, although we don’t speak or read Croatian, we decided to publish Marijana’s Hindi pieces. This is the first time we are venturing into a trilingual issue. This is a new step for us and we are grateful for that.

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