:: SlovoKult:: literARTour :: 2020 ::

Biennial of contemporary arts2::


:: Marija Grubor :: Dorit Trebeljahr ::




Yana, play some music about ends

about full stops and closures

about reluctant composures

about from the truth harshly uprooted exposures

about soft


whispered over the shoulders

you know, those who left you with the taste

of a fugitive three centuries running away from hordes

of a defendant three centuries waiting in the court’s corridors

of a slave three centuries digging the African mines unexplored

only to learn at the end

that the horde is stronger than you

that the court’s working hours have expired

that there is no gold

that youth should be spent wisely

playing tetris at home.


come on, find me some music

about wasted time

about victimless crime

about the aborted ambition of being prime

about twentyish years of roaming around

through labyrinths of pathetic ends

tripping on undisclosed thoughts

and wasted verbs.


today is the end of the ends.

don’t come near me.

you are all dead

and I don’t conceive deaths any more.


only you, Yana, come, come,

and find me some music about ends.


:: Translated from Macedonian :: Elena Prendjova ::


:: Dorit Trebeljahr :: Untitled :: 2014