Pogovor zbirci pjesama Ignjaca Ignjatija Tomičića “Zapisi kao pjesme”
Ovo, što ovdje možete pročitati, izvire iz mog pisanija “NAŠA OBIČNA PRIČA” u kojem pokušavam da dalje živim sa pokojnom suprugom, opisujući naše proživljeno počevši od dana poznanstva 1970. do dana kada nas je napustila 2017., a možda je sve potegnuto nekada, 1968. godine kada su “Književne Novine” objavile moju pjesmu izblijedilu u sječanju.
Afterword to the collection of poems by Ignjac Ignjati Tomičić “Records as Poems”
This, which you can read here, comes from my writing “OUR COMMON STORY” in which I try to continue living with my late wife, describing our experiences starting from the day we met in 1970 until the day she left us in 2017, and maybe everything was pulled sometime, in 1968, when “Književne Novine” published my poem faded in memory.
Ignjac Tomicic – Naca
Ova zbirka ne bila napisana da nisam imao priliku da skoro 50 godina srećno provedem sa mojom ljubavi i saputnicom pokojnom Mirjanom rođ. Novakovic i našom kćerkom Marijanom. A ne bi bila napisana da moja supruga nije prije mene otišla u bezvrijeme. Počeo sam da je pišem nastojeći da produžim naše vrijeme. Konačno, ne bila napisana da se iz nekuda nije pojavio Božidar Škobić, jugoslovenski i srpski pjesnik i književnik, i rastjerujući oblake sa neba mog života, izazvao kišu pisanija, munje misli, i gromove uspomena.
Svaki zapis ovdje počiva na viđenom, lično proživljenom, i zajednički doživljenom. Ništa nije zbog rime uljepšavano, dodavano ili izvrtano, samo sam nastojao da bude jasno, čitko, i da zove da se pročita do kraja.
Ovdje možete naći osjećaje intime ljubavne sreće u uzjamnom davanju, neiskazive tuge u privremenom rastanku, sosmijeha u autobusu, a tu je i pokušaj opjevavanja raznih istinitih događaja sa našeg životnog putešestvija.
Neki zapisi su mogli naći mjesto ovdje samo zbog sirove istine da mi je to Mira dopustila time što mi ne govori slatko “Nemoj Naca”.
Svi zapisi slijede upute pokojnog Oca Prote Doktora Dimše
“Ne mrzi”, iz dubina reče mi glasom šaputavim,
“Oprosti”, ne znaju šta su radili i rade, gromko dodade,
“Pomozi”, već sa osmjehom nadoveza, radi nade.
Ako ovo moja unučad pročita, ili ako vi zapamtite jednu riječ, vrijedilo je mojih suza i truda.
This collection would not have been written if I had not had the opportunity to spend almost 50 years happily with my love and companion, the late Mirjana nee Novakovic, and our daughter Marijana. And it would not have been written if my wife had not gone before me into timelessness. I began writing it in an attempt to extend our time. Finally, it would not have been written if Božidar Škobić, a Yugoslav and Serbian poet and writer, had not appeared from somewhere, and, dispelling the clouds from the sky of my life, caused a rain of writings, lightning bolts of thought, and thunder of memories.
Every entry here is based on what I have seen, personally experienced, and experienced together. Nothing has been embellished, added, or distorted for the sake of rhyme, I have only tried to make it clear, legible, and to call for reading to the end.
Here you can find feelings of intimate love happiness in mutual giving, unspeakable sadness in temporary parting, laughter on the bus, and there is also an attempt to sing about various true events from our life’s journey.
Some records could find a place here only because of the raw truth that Mira allowed me to do that by not telling me sweetly “No Naca”.
All records follow the instructions of the late Father Prote Doctor Dimša
“Don’t hate“, he said to me from the depths in a whispering voice,
“Sorry“, they don’t know what they did and are doing, he added loudly,
“Help“, already with a smile, for the sake of hope.
If my grandchildren read this, or if you remember one word, it was worth my tears and effort.