Miloš Crnjanski
Miloš Crnjanski (in Serbian Cyrillic: Милош Црњански, pronounced [mîlɔʃ t͡srɲǎnskiː]) was a poet of the expressionist wing of Serbian modernism, author, and a diplomat. He initially wrote poetry but later turned to prose fiction and drama, as well. He wrote about his disillusionment, the futility of war and the destruction of his country.
Crnjanski was born in Csongrád, present day Hungary in 1893. His father was a municipal notary. The family moved to Temesvár (now Timisoara in Romania), where he grew up in a Serbian environment, favouring Serbian nationalism. After high school, he studied in Rijeka and then Vienna. After the assassination of Franz Ferdinand, he was persecuted like other Serbs and then drafted into the army to fight the Russians. He was wounded in 1915, spending time in a hospital in Vienna. He was later sent back to the Italian front. He then studied art history and philosophy in Vienna and graduated from the University of Belgrade, where he had edited the student newspaper. He later worked as a teacher, a newspaper editor and an embassy press attaché in Berlin and then in the Yugoslav Embassy in Rome. He also worked as reporter in Spain during the Spanish Civil War. In World War II, he escaped to London, where he remained after the war, becoming a British citizen. He worked in Hatchards, the bookshop, while his wife sewed dolls dresses for Harrods. He returned to Belgrade, Serbia in 1965, where he died in 1977.
“Klečala je preda mnom i šaputala, da ne može bez mene da živi. Ja sam joj rekao da ode. Predosećam smrt i rado kašljem, pa bi bilo suviše sentimentalno da umrem u njenim rukama. Ona bi suviše glasno plakala, a ja ne volim plač nego tugu. Nisam više željan, da me ljube, niti da mi iko pruža ruku. Dosta je bilo. Ako je ljubav, naljubio sam se. Umoran sam. Pod prozorom mi je niklo žito, i stoput na dan hoću da se zaplačem. Žao mi je sebe samog. Ali mi je žao i žita. Ko zna, možda i neće moći bez mene da živi. Zar je ona kriva, ako ljubav nije večna. Sve to priznajem. Ja ništa ne želim, osim da brzo prodje sve što dodje. Kad smo se našli i ja i ona imali smo već hiljadu greha, navika i senki u sebi. A da ljubav počinje u šumi, kako bi sve lakše bilo.”
“SumatraSad smo bezbrižni, laki i nežni.Pomislimo: kako su tihi, snežnivrhovi Urala.Rastuži li nas kakav bledi lik,što ga izgubismo jedno veče,znamo da, negde, neki potokmesto njega, rumeno teče!Po jedna ljubav, jutro, u tuđini,dušu nam uvija, sve tešnje,beskrajnim mirom plavih mora,iz kojih crvene zrna korala,kao, iz zavičaja, trešnje.Probudimo se noću i smešimo, drago,na Mesec sa zapetim lukom.I milujemo daleka brdai ledene gore, blago, rukom.”
“Лежаћу по цео дан у трави и гледаћу у небо. Сваки дан ће имати нову боју. И те боје умириће моје очи, а ја сам сав миран, кад ми се смире очи.”