A Completely Ordinary Man
By Tanja Bakić
Yesterday I bumped into you in the street
Under that same bridge
Where we used to hide together
From the rain and kissed
Twenty-five years ago.
You were carrying an umbrella
Which dropped out of your hand
When you saw my face appear
From nowhere before you,
Danijela.
You hadn’t changed much.
You were still beautiful, as you had been back then
When you would read Prévert aloud to me
Or when, upon the creaky sofa
In my small rented flat,
You would sit next to me and catch my hand
Telling me how much you adore morning smells
Telling me how much you adore coffee.
But I would just let you talk
And ask you to close your eyes
So that I could descend the steps,
Leave the building
And purchase a sour cherry
Ice cream for you
Because you told me
You liked it best.
You haven’t changed much, Danijela.
Except that the dreams you dreamt
About the big city lights
Took you straight
Towards them.
Tokyo, Rio, New York, Hong Kong,
Sydney, Colombo, New Delhi,
Casablanca, Moscow, London,
Cape Town, Toronto, Beijing.
The years you decided not
to spend with me
In my shabby, rented flat
On one dead-end street
In a small quarter in Podgorica
You decided instead to stretch out
On the streets of the world’s metropolises.
You met new people,
Had conversations with them
Different to the ones
You had with me.
You wore new high heels
Put on trendy jewellery
You looked into another sun
Every morning when you woke up.
But I was left making ends meet
In that same small flat
In a dead-end street,
Waking up early in the morning,
Going to work,
Getting back late in the evening
After having some wine
In a local pub.
Once a month
Paying my bills.
Once a month
Splashing out on
A train ticket
To the next town.
And so the snowfalls would come and go,
The winds, rains, storms and fogs,
Although my impression was
That for years everything stood in the same place
Except that you weren’t here.
I had no idea where you might be,
Nor what you might be doing
But I knew you were a dreamer,
And that your dreams led you far away.
I still cannot forget visiting
Those packed cinema auditoriums
Together with you
I cannot forget
How back then you would tell me
How much you adored films starring Alain Delon
No, I cannot forget even that little gypsy girl
Who would approach us in the cinema
And tell us that were both good looking…
Twenty-five years ago.
I myself have never planted
A foot on another continent.
I have never seen
The big city lights.
I don’t know important people.
I don’t speak
Any foreign languages.
I am just a
Completely ordinary man,
With a modest
View of the world.
A man who can give you
Nothing but his
Small rented flat
In a dead-end street
In a poor quarter of Podgorica,
And the occasional night out,
An occasional nice word,
An occasional bowl
Of sour cherry ice cream.
You haven’t changed much, Danijela.
Feel free to pick up
That umbrella which dropped out of
Your hand to the ground
When you saw my face appear out of nowhere.
Take it in your hands
Open it back up
And just carry on walking
Wherever you were going.
And I will pretend that
I didn’t bump into you just now.
I will pretend that I never knew you.
Oh, Danijela.
You haven’t changed much.
*
Tanja Bakić, born in 1981 in Montenegro, is the author of four highly-praised poetry collections, her debut being published when she was only 15, and the last one, Sjeme i druge pjesme (The Seed and Other Poems), in 2013. She is also a translator, has an MA in English language and literature, and also writes as a music and literary critic. Her poetry has been translated into 15 foreign languages, presented at festivals abroad, published in international magazines and anthologies. She has been awarded fellowships several times, including Central European Initiative Fellowship for Writers Award (Vilenica Festival Slovenia), International Haus Des Autoren Graz, Slovenian Public Fund for Cultural Activities, etc. The lecture she presented at the Tate Britain in London, entitled “William Blake in the Former Yugoslavia” will be published by Bloomsbury in 2019. Her poetry translations include the works of William Blake, Yeats, Byron, Eliot… and most recently Don Paterson.