Enesa Mahmić (Bosnia and Herzegovina/Slovenia) was born in 1989. She is a travel writer, an member of  PEN Center. She published 4 poetry collections. Her poems have been translated into English, German, Italian, Turkish, Slovenian, Albanian and Hungarian- included in several anthologies: Social Justice and Intersectional Feminism, University of Victoria (CANADA), Spread poetry, not fear (SLOVENIA), QUEEN Global voices of 21th century female Poets (INDIA), Writing Politics and Knowledge Production (ZIMBABWE), Mosztári esők  (HUNGARY) , Wood poets (CROATIA), World for peace, World Institute for Peace (NIGERIA), Le Voci della poesia (ITALY) and more. She won international  awards for  literature:  Gold medal Neighbour of your shore 2017 as best immigrant poetry, Ratković's Evenings of Poetry 2016 and Aladin Lukač Award 2016 for best debut book.

 

 

 

English

Bosnian


The Man Who Talks to Birds

Once at the Forest Park
I met a foreigner who was feeding the birds.
Last sunset of the dying autumn
Mirrored in his eyes.

He told me:
Dear friend,
My Bosnian accent is almost incomprehensible
I can't talk to people
I'm just sitting on a bench in Forest Park and speaking with birds.

 

 

Letter from Syria

My friend,
One completely plain morning
While drinking tea and carelessly reading the newspaper
The dogs of war knocked on my door

From that moment on there are no newspapers
No bread, no tea on my desk anymore
The laughter of my children is gone

Now
In the middle of the chaos, we are constantly trying to find
New survival tactics

Here-
        Death steadily increase
There -
          Heartless politicians
          And academics bury their heads in the sand.

 

 

Sunday Lunch in Exile

We didn't talk about our suffering
We taught our children patience
Mastering the silent endurance
Our masters said:
Unnecessary sorrows hijack the glory of God
So, we ate the crumbs from their table
Without any complaint.
We comforted ourselves: I'm fine. It's ok.
Tomorrow will be the same,
The concept of discrimination repeats itself.
Gentleman from social institution will remind me again
That I'm just a number in the system.
I will be thinking again
How I should leave everything.
Maybe move to another city, another country.
I comforted myself with the illusion of love,
Understanding and forgetfulness
But  deep in my heart, I knew
There is no country for immigrants.

 

Čovjek koji je pričao sa pticama

Jednom u Forest Parku
Upoznala sam stranca koji je hranio ptice
Posljednji zraci sunca
Zrcalili su se u njegovim očima.

Rekao mi je:
Dragi prijatelju
Moj bosanski naglasak gotovo je nerazumljiv
Ja ne mogu razgovarati sa ljudima
Mogu samo sjediti na klupi u Forest Parku i razgovarati sa pticama.


Pismo iz Sirije

Dragi prijatelju,
Jednog sasvim običnog jutra
Dok sam pio čaj i listao novine
Psi rata zakucali su na moja vrata

Od tog momenta nema više novina
Ni hljeba, ni čaja više nema na mom stolu
I smijeh moje djece kao da je utinuo
Sada


U u sred ovog haosa konstantno tražimo
Nove tehnike preživljavanja


Ovdje-
     Smrt se konstatno povećava


Tamo-
      Neosjetljivi političari
      I akademici sa glavom u pijesku

 

 

Nedjeljni ručak u egzilu

Ne govorimo o svojim patnjama.
Djecu smo učili da budu strpljiva
Da trpe u tišini
Naši gospodari su nam rekli:
Nepotrebne žalopojne zaklanjaju slavu Božju
Pa godinama jedemo mrvice sa njihovog stola.
Bez ijedine pritužbe
Uvjeravamo sami sebe: Dobro sam. Sve je uredu.
Sutra će biti isto
Kontept diskriminacije se ponavlja
Sa istim starim boljakama
Gospoda  iz socijanog podsjetit će me opet
Kako sam samo broj u sistemu
I mislit ću opet
Kako bi trebao napustiti sve
Potražiti sklonište u drugom gradu, drugoj državi
Tješit ću se iluzijom ljubavi,
 Razumijevanja i zaborava.
Ali duboko u svom srcu znam
Nema zemlje za imigrante.