ZDRAVKO ODORCIC, THE PULSE OF ARTS OF ZAGREB AND THE DREAMERS OF HIS KULTURA SNOVA.

Zdravko Odorcic was born in Osijek. He works and lives in Zagreb, Croatia. He is a theatre activist, a writer and a poet. He published over 150 literary works including 9 plays, 1 novel, 7 poetry books and 1 children book. He is founder of Kultura Snova and online Radio Snova. He is a playwright who directs his own scripts on stage. He was the founder and Director of TV Osjek Plus during the Patriotic War. He leads Zagreb Poetry evenings weekly. Kultura Snova has 250 members and followers all over the world who collaborated and work with him. He is some kind of cultural ambassador connecting people from various races, cultures and religions spreading tolerance, peace and bridging people from all over the world through his artistic activities. Recently he started caravans of poets called Na Dlanu or On The Palm of The Hand producing anthology from each poem festivals he organizes from various towns in the Balkans.

SHORT STORY BY ZDRAVKO ODORCIC

HE RUN OVER THE ANT

He was mobilized in the military unit that fought for their place. And all of them were fighting and dying for their places. Houses were ruined. Burned. Devastated.From both sides. They even forgot why and when their bloody dance had started.

Criminals became heroes, but heroes died in the battle or after battles they never finish the war. They leave the seed of hate for the next war.

Not to be killed one has to kill. And to burn. And devastated the home of others. They killed somebody's son who himself killed the son of somebody else. This was the chain. The war support took himself too. It transformed the man who was defending his place to the bloody beast that fight for his existance.

In the battle the granary thrown him on ants nest.Aunts went around into his hair, underwear, nose, eyes, eats. He couldn't move. He was looking to the ant on the top of his nose and annoying him. He even could not scrub himself.

He was gazing at the ant for hours and the ant was looking at him too while other ants were running up and down along his body and arts. The rain started and it was raining so hard. Ants disappeared in a glance. But the stubborn one was still dancing with his slim legs.

The rain stopped. He moved the palm of his hand and with reflex of his nerve he free the ant from his nose, it fell just under soldier's sight point. The ant was moving his legs and it seems to the soldier that it was shouting to him. As the ant was cursin g him.

He got up slowly from the wet ground that became a mud. The ant was still moving desperately. The soldier got nervous and he moved his feet and stick with the sole the poor ant. He stayed this way with his boot on the leaf. When he moved the leg the ant was laying dead.

He sit next to the ant and started to laugh loudly to the dead little animal. He continued to laugh till the night. All the night till morning. The next morning with the first sun rays he looked better to the little dead insect in front of himself. He saw his soldier's and enemy soldier's. And he saw all dead around. He saw himself and the ant, the were from nobody.

The ants in lane tried to bring their dead friend. He didn't permit it with the steak of the wood. He blow to them, tried to touch them to frighten them. He took the box of matches and put the poor ant in it.

As other ants could not see their friend anymore that went away. He opened the box and gazed to the ant. He felt the bitterness of the drop of sweat that was in his eye. Then the other eye started to pinch too. The saltiness of tears aged his eyes and they burned his face by skidding from his eyes. Drops became the stream and he burned into strong cry.

Loudly mourning.Complaining because of pain in his chest. The idea that he killed the ant blocked his muscles. He was shouting. Than he bested his head against the rock. The blood was squeezing on the ground and on the cloud. The sky became red.

His vein broke because of the strong pressure on the box and his head fell down because of strong beating against the rock. The earth opened and they fell inside in deep nothing. The stone covered the hole.

He felt the cold with his open eyes, his mouth full of sand. His arts became like rocks. And his glance disappeared in that stone. He himself became the stone together with the box of matches.

Translated into English by Zana Coven

POEMS BY ZDRAVKO ODORCIC

A SPASM OF TRANQUILITY

Exposed souls lacking attire,
wrapped in silk-woven cloths,
passionately suspiring congested by fervour
through a touch of skin,
tangled by fingers
in a spasm, seeking the very last alleviation
by soft lips
imprinting the imperceptible
print marks,

stopping
the Earth and moving it
off the orbicular course.
The crack opening up
along stitches of barren furrows,
flooded
by creek water flowing fiercely like an ocean,
spreading liquidity
and returning it to caves that are nurtured by magma –
then all erupting
like a volcano hidden under a
duvet.

Translated by: Vanja Rendulić Medvešček

YOU ARE NOT LIKE HER

you can't go
hand in hand
with me,
with poem
with my experience
and with the richness of my mind.
you are a lady

and it is not for you
to walk with me
wrapped in expensive curds

embraced by my hands of experience
you can't go with me by foot
because inns are home to poets
it is difficult to walk on high heels
here on Gornji Grad
where up hills are made of stone cubes

the air that is ripped up by the poems of the poet
is full of smoke
and it's stuffy
but you have gentle lungs
your lips are so soft
and my kisses so rough to lips

you don't understand what we sing
for the pain and suffering of the soul
can only sing
the bohemian symphony of mad poets

you can hear just the sound of my voice
but not crying of my soul of poet
for the one who heard love in my poems which went barefoot
in summer blue dress
because she was shot by the emotion of reality in the forehead of illusions

I can't kill you that way
and I can't love you as I loved her with my soul

Translated into English by...Zaynab Nevenka