RADE SILJAN
b. 1950

Born in the village of Zvan near Demir Hisar. A member of the younger generation of Macedonian writers, who appeared in the course of the 70s, he writes both poetry and literary criticism. Has published three volumes of poetry. He edited the anthology of 19th century Macedonian poetry Macedonian Poetry in 19th century and of Macedonian plays from the 19th and 20th centuries Macedonian Drama in 19th and 20th century.

SUCH IS OUR FATE

We were fated to dream of stars
to tie in the end of the dance twice, thrice
to be one with the nameless in our dreams
to look for snakes' eyes in our friends
We were fated to dream awake

We were fated to exchange the word for a look
to undermine the foundations before they were built
to bequeath dark provinces to the future
to name our villages after bad memories
our children will curse us for our greed
we were fated to flee from our own shadows

We were fated to perish thirsty by riversides
to dig up springs, look for ourselves in dreams
distant are the seasons that fertilize the seeds
no longer knowing what tomorrow brings
parting from our children without a word
we were fated to suffer at the hands of our shadows

We were fated to dream of stars
to exchange the word for a look
to flee from our shadows
to perish thirsty by riversides
we were fated to suffer at the hands of our shadows

We bequeath no moral to the unborn
Even freedom is too much for us to bear

WALLING-UP THE SHADOW

Everything we had in secret fades, fades away.
Our reality is like the wind, a windhover.

Each morning we seek the branches of the tree
its roots hide speech's secret
hope alone fertilizes the people's seed

Blood-red clouds are the final warning
decay spreads through the wood
seers foretold:
Your shadow is walled up in the foundations
the greatest curse on future generations
the road is neither up nor down
the sentence is over and done with!

The times echo in our veins

Everything we had now fades, fades away.
Like a memory, like hope, like a lost battle.

DREAM OR REALITY

On the hilltop
dances a secret star
ahead a thorny path and dewy meadows
you bid farewell to hope.

Ahead or behind
mist in your eyes
you suffer from other people's ignorance
a rotten kernel splits in your root
the body is far from the word

On the hilltop
all wilts from a dark nightmare
all falls silent from the pain of your words
our untrod paths
exchange the sun for sleep
our lips are cursed
by the language of secrets

The seed sprouts. It bursts
You travel in secret among churches and minarets.

The blood of the past deceives you
the lodestar on the point of a needle
a wordless meeting is best
in a wakeful column your shadow betrays you
capture it in your jaws
or conceal it below corals.

HUMANS / INHUMANS

There are people
with luxurious capitals in their innards
there are people
deaf to the times
proud of the past
hopeless for the homeland

There are people
oh, there are people, the patriots will say,
like non-people
like non-people.
Where we seek them we dig a grave.

Our traces vanish
we run away before the light
our mothers will search for us
but will they find us
will they find us amidst the sea
or on the black peak in the mountains
where the wind weaves the rainbow?