It’s all said Amelie – Sve je rečeno, Ameli
On септембар 13, 2017 | 0 Comments | Blog | Ознаке: , , , , , , ,

I was dreaming with my eyes wide open while they were trying to put to sleep my days and nights full of beaming light.

I saw you, Amelie.

In those dreams I was buying bunches of roses and they would wither as soon as they would reach your exquisite hands I loved with my entire being.

I gave you the flowers, Amelie.

I wrote poems without signing them and they were never good enough, they never said enough….It’s a shame to die without telling a word about flaming fires of the heart, even though it is in a dream.

I confessed it all, Ameliei.

One night in Prague I ran after a violin player, an extraordinary musician I met under a bridge. I gave him a cigarette and a pair of gloves and then we talked about you. I went on and on and he was playing, I was crying but his face stayed the same somber, wrinkled, motionless.

I cried, Amelie.

I spent the last penny on a glass of cooked vine. It was romantic walking over the slippery bridges, watching the lights mingle with fog and talking about a future that is not for this world, not for us, not for people of our kind.

My soul got lost looking for you, Amelie.

I used to talk painters into selling their work to me at lower prices. These were usually images of blurred landscapes, aching faces and dried flowers.

I used to wake up in some park with autumn leaves all around me, drowsy. I drank a lot, I loved a lot. Days are rough when one loves an unanswered love. I couldn’t wake up in a different way, you wouldn’t have me and I wouldn’t give up. They say: „You should believe in your dreams”.

I say: “Dreams didn’t believe in me, even there I wasn’t allowed to love, to be loved”.

I believed in dreams, Amelie.

What kind of dreams are those where there is no love, where I drink, steal paintings or negotiate the price, sing listening to an abandoned violin, with utmost strain collect a few pennies for a glass of cooked vine, gather courage for days to give you a rose or a bunch of flowers or whatever. From darkness you can’t escape, even to dreams.

Once again… I wished to love, to be loved, I wished us to love each other, to be with you at least in a dream.

I wanted to love you, Amelie.

Some people didn’t have to dream, they had it all in reality, they managed it. Some were pretending, some loved truly and all of them said it was love, that substance, the essence for those who are chosen. I wasn’t one of them. I was of those left behind, deserted, a dreamer facing reality, left in the rain of bitterness.

You didn’t even notice me, Amelie.

I went to sleep and it was a long one, as long as life. Long enough to hurt its way to the tears, to bleeding. Long enough to remind me on what I have, on what I lack, what I wish for and what I’ll never have. Long enough to make me wish I never dreamed again, just breathe without thinking about the next steps, about looks, about future.

You were my dream and my future, Amelie.

The dream that vanished in a dream…but who cares when there’s even no dream anymore?  It’s so, isn’t it Amelie?

It’s all said, Amelie.

 

Sve je rečeno, Ameli

 Sanjao sam otvorenim očima dok su se trudili da mi uspavaju dane i noći u kojima je tinjalo svetlo.

Video sam te, Ameli.

U tim snovima sam kupovao bukete ruža koje su obično venule čim stignu do tih lepih ruku koje sam voleo svim svojim bićem.

Dao sam ti cveće, Ameli.

Pisao sam pesme bez potpisa, nikad to nije bilo dovoljno dobro, dovoljno rečeno…Šteta je umreti a ne kazati o vatrama koje gore u srcu, čak i u snu.

Sve sam priznao, Ameli.

Jedne noći u Pragu, trčao sam za violinistom, izvandrednim muzičarem kojeg sam upoznao ispod jednog mosta. Dao sam mu cigaretu i rukavice a onda smo pričali o tebi. Ja sam pričao, on je svirao, ja sam plakao, njegovo lice je ostalo isto, tužno, naborano, nepomično.

Plakao sam, Ameli.

Dao sam poslednju krunu za kuvano vino.Romantično je bilo šetati po klizavim mostovima, gledati svetla kako se mešaju s maglom i pričati o nekoj budućnosti koja nije za ovaj svet, ne za nas, ne za ovakve ljude.

Izgubila mi se duša traživši te, Ameli.

Ubeđivao bih slikare da mi prodaju njihova dela po  nižioj ceni. Obično su to bile slike nejasnih pejzaža, bolnih lica, suvog cveća.

Budio sam se u nekom parku okružen jesenjim liščem, mamuran, mnogo sam pio, mnogo sam voleo.Teški su dani kad se voli neuzvraćena ljubav. Nisam umeo drugačije da se budim, nisi me htela a ja nisam hteo da odustanem. Kažu: „Treba verovati u snove“.

Kažem: „ Snovi nisu verovali u mene, ni tamo me nisu pustili da volim, da budem voljen.“

Verovao sam u snove, Ameli.

Kakvi su to sni gde nema ljubavi, gde pijem, kradem slike ili se pak nagađam za cenu, pevam dok slušam napuštenu violinu, jedva prikupim neku krunu za kuvano vino, jedva skupim hrabrosti da dam ružu, buket ruža, štagod. Ni u snove se od mraka ne može pobeći.

Još jednom…Poželeo sam da volim, da budem voljen, da se volimo, da budem s njom makar u snu.

Hteo sam da te volim, Ameli.

Neki nisu morali da sanjaju, imali su to na javi, snašlisu se. Neki su glumeli, neki su varali, neki su se zaista voleli a svi su govorili da je to ljubav, ta suština, ta bit koju dobiju odabrani. Ja nisam bio jedan od tih. Ja sam bio jedan od ostavljenih, napuštenih, sanjar suočen s realnošću, ostavljen na kiši gorčine.

Nisi me ni primetila, Ameli.

Zaspah, ali I san je trajao dugo baš kao I život. Dugo, dovoljno dugo da zaboli do suza, do krvi. Dugo da me podseti šta imam, šta nemam, šta želim I šta nikada neću imati.Dugo, da ne poželim više da sanjam, već samo da dišem I ne mislim o koracima, o pogledima, o budućnosti.

Bila si mi san I budućnost, Ameli.

San koji je iščezao u snu…. Ali koga briga kad ni sna nema više, zar ne Ameli?

Sve je rečeno, Ameli.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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