Translating Kamov

Online interview from 2014

This is an interview conducted by Dario Sušanj for velikabritanija.net and published 09.09.2014. 

Janko Polić Kamov, a Croatian writer and a poet, died at a very young age, but left behind a major work of Croatian modernist literature: the novel ‘Isušena kaljuža’ (‘The Dried Up Mire’). Literary critics often agree that his work was way ahead of the worldwide movements which were to follow in the years after his death, like surrealism and modernism, with writers such as Joyce, Kafka and Camus later leading the way, and they often label Kamov’s work as ‘revolutionary’. However, Kamov’s novel and much of his work has never been translated into English and an Englishman living in Croatia, Martin Mayhew, is now working on translating Kamov’s important novel. As Martin is doing this, he is also compiling a unique glossary of archaic and almost forgotten Croatian words and phrases which he hopes will be useful to any future translators who may embark on a difficult task of translating a work of Croatian modernist literature into English.

“They set off on a walk. Across the square passed a funeral, a long cortège of men, women and some kind of craftsmen’s guild. The music slowly followed the sad and boring step, under the gloomy sky, on the unbearable Sunday, which had closed the shops, cleaned the marketplace, brought people out for a walk or made them yawn at the windows of their houses. It was after noon. There were people at the side, who were looking blankly at the procession. The colourful robes, both genders, young and old, all with the same looks, which were neither of sadness nor curiosity, but of a kind of long, protracted and half-dead look, that notices nothing, but sees everything. The tolling of bells rang out like somebody’s voices breaking up then returning, sinking and re-merging like a castaway at sea. Arsen stared at the coffin. Behind it there cried one young woman, throwing her head wildly into a handkerchief and twitching her shoulders as though wanting to shake off some burden.”

– An excerpt from the yet unpublished translation of “The Dried Up Mire” by Janko Polić Kamov, as translated by Martin Mayhew

Martin Mayhew has been living in Rijeka, Croatia, for about ten years; he first visited the country in 2000 as a journalist, on a tour organised by the Croatian Tourist Board, but in 2003 he moved from his hometown of Brighton to the city of Rijeka, one of the main ports in the Northern Adriatic and a city known for having a lively cultural and also alternative scene, not much unlike his own Brighton. As his association with Rijeka grew stronger and stronger, it is no wonder, of course, that Martin, as a lover of good literature, also quickly found out about the works of Rijeka-born writer and poet Janko Polić Kamov who had been briefly active in the early years of the 20th century. Martin decided to embark on a challenging and difficult task – we could even call it a linguistic adventure – to translate Kamov’s most important work, “The Dried Up Mire”, into English. This has never been done before, probably owing mostly to the complexity of the task and the fact that Kamov’s work is still not well known and recognised outside the region – even though he is often compared to other modernists such as Joyce or Kafka.

Martin recently published a few excerpts from his yet unpublished translation on his blog, hoping, of course, to be able to find a publisher who would be interested into bringing this key work of Croatian modernist literature one step closer to the English-speaking audience across the world. This is why I caught up with Martin, asking him a few questions about the challenges he faced whilst working on this translation.

Martin, this is a rather predictable question to begin with, but why Kamov? Except for the obvious Rijeka connection, how and why have you decided to translate his works?

When I first came to Croatia in 2000 I was given a copy of ‘Southerly Thoughts and Other Short Stories’ a collection of stories by Croatian writers. Amongst the collection were two by Janko Polić Kamov which grabbed my attention as being something extraordinary, gritty, uncompromising. A couple of years later when I began working as a translator in Rijeka I was approached to make an offer to translate his novel ‘Isušena Kaljuža’ into English. Unfortunately that deal did not come to fruition and so I decided to continue personally with the translation of Kamov’s work, primarily of his short stories which along the way would allow me to continue with the English version of his novel, the first chapter of which I had already completed and shelved. For me the more I translate his work, the more I relate to it, which is also something I think other readers experience and just recently I have discovered that there are also other people working on the translations of his works into two other languages.

Why do you feel that ‘The Dried Up Mire’ (‘Isušena kaljuža’) is or could be relevant to the English-speaking audiences today?

So many people here in Rijeka tell me that ‘Kaljuža’, and Kamov’s work in general, is very important for the history of Croatian literature, because it is said that his work was way ahead of the worldwide movements which were to follow after his death. Surrealism, modernism, avant-garde, existentialism and revolutionary are some of the labels which have been attached to his work. In his work he refers to the political events which were happening in Croatia (at his time under Austro-Hungarian rule), he was against the system and briefly spent time in prison for his political beliefs. In this sense he could be seen as a champion for independence or more clearly a champion against repression, hypocrisy, elitism etc. in general. His work deals mostly with the human condition, internal conflicts, heaven and hell, madness, the dark sides of life, society, sex, alcohol, violence, death and religion. He was an early pavement writer. So, in this way his relevance to the English-speaking audience is important in that his work, when translated well into English, will shed light on the history and literature of this part of the world, in a specific period of time but even more so on a style which pre-dates the movements which were approaching on the literary horizon.

“Isušena kaljuža” (“The Dried Up Mire”) by Janko Polić Kamov: today’s, modern edition to the left, and the original 1957 edition to the right. The original edition was first published almost 50 years after Kamov’s death.

Would you compare Kamov’s work to any of his contemporaries in the English-speaking world or, generally, in Europe? Kamov’s life was cut very short by illness, and while ‘Kaljuža’ is his most important work, who knows whether he might have even had a chance to be compared to the likes of Joyce and others, had he just lived longer?

Firstly I must say that I am not literary expert. My study of literature ended with secondary school Shakespeare in England, but saying that I do like to read, and Kamov’s work, for me, is exceptional and it certainly deserves to be translated well and published. In that way literary scholars can come to their conclusions about it. Yes, Croatian literary circles have compared Kamov to Joyce, Kafka and Camus and have concluded that ‘Isušena kaljuža’ is in the top ten of Croatian writing, if not number one. He himself was influenced by the writers of his time and makes references to them in his work. It would seem that his work was ignored or maybe even suppressed during his lifetime due to its content and possibly because of other, more influential writers. He wrote the novel from 1906-1909 but it didn’t see the light of day until 1957, almost fifty years after his death. If he had lived who knows what may have become of him.

I have followed your posts on Facebook as you worked on this translation and it seems you stumbled upon many Croatian words which have proven difficult, or at least challenging, to translate into English or even properly explain using modern Croatian. How difficult was it really to translate a modernist novel containing so many archaic words? 

Janko Polić Kamov was born in Rijeka, modern day Croatia but then part of the Austria-Hungary, on 17 November 1886, and died at a very young age, being just 23, on 8 August 1910 in Barcelona, Spain.

Kamov’s work includes a vocabulary a lot of which doesn’t seem to fit into what is today known as modern Croatian. Slavic versions of words from French, German, Italian are mixed in with what are now Serbian and Bosnian today which makes their translation into English a real investigation. This together with the fact that he uses two verb tenses – imperfect and aorist – which are virtually unused these days, and the flashbacks and surrealism in the stories which seem unconnected and random, plus the unusual syntactical structure of his sentences, means that translating his work, for me, has almost become a process of interpretation. Every now and then I will post a word on Facebook which I am struggling with and invite my friends to offer a solution, sometimes causing heated, but mostly good humoured, discussions.

You are also compiling a glossary of terms as you continue working on this translation. Do you feel this could be useful and relevant to other translators who might eventually decide to translate other works of literature from this period?

Yes, as I am translating his work I am compiling a glossary of almost every word he uses in all of his works – it contains at least three English equivalents of each word. In this way I don’t need to remember every single word when it appears again as I translate. In compiling this I have also compiled a dictionary of late 19th and early 20th centuries Serbo-Croatian to English from free online resources as well as a large selection of Croatian dialectal words. In this way I’m trying to use the English vocabulary from the same period as he wrote. In the end the final glossary of possibly 50,000 words should be a unique collection, which could be useful for the translation of similar period works.

Give us a top three words which you think even the native Croatian readers today would have trouble understanding and let’s see whether our readers have a problem with them! What are your English translations for these?

Well as Croatian is not my native tongue is it not so easy for me to say. Much of the time it is the context in which he uses the words and expressions which take time to translate. Here are three such examples in no particular order: none are a woman’s breasts (origin is still unclear), budlaj – werewolf (unknown origin),  bilikum – a special cup (German origin). Modern Croats would certainly have trouble understanding these without a proper explanation.

Another point to be taken into consideration is that over the decades various editions of his works have had some slight amendments made by publishers and editors – they have changed some spellings or even omitted words for whatever reasons, so I am trying to use the originally published versions for my translation.

Kamov’s statue on the bridge crossing the river Rječina in his home town of Rijeka, Croatia, is the work of the Croatian sculptor Zvonimir Kamenar.

Would you like to see any other Croatian authors translated into English? Any that you plan to do yourself, should you be successful in finding a publisher for Kamov’s work?

There is enough of Kamov’s work to be translated and published as a complete anthology. This would be a great personal achievement. Of course if the cultural, literary or even academic entities in Croatia could provide funding for such a venture in order to push Croatian literature out further into the English speaking world, it would be a great step forward in the appreciation of all the literature from this part of the world. I am sure that there are many Croatian authors, past and present, who deserve to be translated. In fact today in Rijeka itself there are numerous young writers, many of whom are admirers of Kamov’s work.

Are you in contact with any publishers, in Croatia or in the UK, who might be interested in publishing your translation when it’s finished?

Yes, I have been communicating sporadically with a couple of publishers in Croatia and the UK who have shown interest, but due to the economic climate in Croatia being as it is, and the fact that publishers outside the country have yet to fully appreciate Kamov’s work, it is proving difficult to make an impression.

Thank you so much for your time and this interview, Martin. Should our readers wish to find out more about you, I suggest they have a look at your blog and, of course, if they feel that they can help you in finding a publisher and finishing your work, they are certainly free to get in touch!

*****

This interview was conducted by Dario Sušanj for velikabritanija.net and published 09.09.2014.

Since this interview I have published my first book of my translations of Kamov’s works – a collection of 12 short stories – ‘Farces & Novellas‘ (May 2018) which is available at Amazon (paperback) and all other online ebook stores.

In May 2019 I published my second book of the work of Janko Polić Kamov – the translation of a collection of nine poems which he published in 1907 – ‘Psovka‘ (‘The Curse‘). More info here

On Winged Wheels to Opatija’s Riviera

On Winged Wheels to Opatija’s Riviera – 145th anniversary of the building of the Vienna – Opatija – Rijeka and the Budapest – Rijeka railway and 110th anniversary of Opatija’s tramway is an extensive and fascinating exhibition by the Croatian Museum of Tourism being held in Opatija’s famous Villa Angiolina until 31st October 2019.

The arrival of the railway and the electric tramway meant the rapid development of tourism in Opatija and the whole region. The exhibition details every step of the construction, implementation and running of the whole system even including human stories of the workers, drivers and the local people involved.

This is another excellent project which I am glad to have been involved as the English translator, working on the exhibition texts and promotional materials.

You can find more info here.
Plus a report by HRT TV here.

Kako čitati prostorni plan

How to read a spatial plan

kako citati prostorni plan korzo‘Kako čitati prostorni plan’ is a new exhibition on Rijeka’s Korzo which explains the intricacies of spatial planing in Primorje-Gorski Kotar County. Written and produced by the Zavod za prostorno uređenje Primorsko-goranske županije it is a major effort to explain the importance of environmental planning to the general public of the county, which itself is celebrating 25 years of its foundation.

Over 10 boards of 20 panels, it explains the history, development, current status and importance of spatial planning in the county.

I am very honoured to have been in involved in the translation of such an important and interesting project about the county in which I live.

The exhibition on Rijeka’s Korzo runs until 12.10.2018 and all the online information in English is available here.

Janko Polić Kamov – Farces & Novellas

My first book of my translations of Janko Polić Kamov’s work is now available on Amazon and all major ebook channels… Apple, Nook, Kobo, Kindle….

It is also available to buy from the publishers Modernist in Varaždin.

Farces
The Beard – Brada
In The Country – Selo
Woman – Žena
The Disaster – Katastrofa
The Suit – Odijelo
The Earthquake – Potres
The Bedbug – Stjenica
‘A Confession’ – ‘Ispovijest’

Novellas

‘Ecce homo!’
Grief – Žalost
Freedom – Sloboda
Bitanga

ebook: ISBN: 978-1-912643-16-5
Printed edition ISBN: 978-1717088611

++Thank you to all those who helped and supported me in completing this important work 🙂 ++

Press clipping from Novi List 02.06.2018

Novi list – članak

Interview for Radio Rojc about Kamov, the book and publishing, in English here

Sarah & The Romans interview

WE PRESENT SARAH & THE ROMANS –
a merry group from Rijeka who are winning over the world!

  • 10th October 2017 – Novi List, Rijeka, Croatia. Interview with Ivana Kocijan.

Coming soon from the German publishing house AGR TV Records in Hamburg will be ‘First Date’ the debut album by the Croatian group Sarah & The Romans. To find out how this cooperation came about, what it means to them, what they sing about in their songs, we spoke to band members: Sara Blažić, Goran Troha and Igor Willheim.

Igor: Six months ago we began to send emails and singles to Europe and America, looking for a publisher for our album. Publishing houses from Canada, America, Sweden and Germany were interested. German companies were the most interested in this regard, and over a few months we reached an agreement with one of them, signed a deal and began the production of the album.
Goran: We were not trying to look for a publisher in Croatia because all the material is aimed at the foreign market, the songs are in English, and the music is such that it is more popular abroad than here.

When will the album be published and what can we find on it? Who are your songwriters?
Goran: We have 11 songs on the album. Of those 10 are original compositions, whilst one is a version of an instrumental on the theme of the movie ‘Kekec’ (‘Good Will is The Best’) which we have arranged ourselves. As for the writers, I can say there are many, especially of the lyrics. As the lyrics are in English, we strive that they are written by native speakers. And in this we also have a translator who is following us, Martin Mayhew, an Englishman with a Rijeka address. Who as a translator and musician, has fitted very well into our story. The music and arrangements are written by members of the band.
Igor: The album should be released on 27th October, and in the deal there is also a second album, which we are already working on, all the demo material has been recorded. We are still not sure of the title.

‘First Date’ now available on iTunes and Google Play

What themes do you sing about?
Sara: The themes are love. The name of the album is ‘First Date’, as in romance, but also as in the first encounter of our band with the audience… It can be interpreted in various ways, but always positively and with good intention. The lyrics are always of love, optimistic, which is also the message of the bluegrass music that we play: everything is happy, positive, and even when something bad happens, you forget it, carry on and everything is OK.

Your first single ‘Smoke in The Wind’ from last year was chosen as Bluegrass Song of the Month by the American Akademia Music Awards. What does this acknowledgment mean for you?

Goran: Yes, we sent the song upon the recommendation of one radio DJ from Houston who fell for our music. The song was chosen as song of the month in June in its category. This really did open the door to the music world for us, and with that we gained many contacts. So for example we joined up with a dance troupe from Tennessee who we accompanied for five days in Zagreb, they danced, and we played.
Igor: It was the International Folklore Festival, an excellent experience. The music brought us together and a great collaboration was created and so we will continue to accompany the dance troupe from Tennessee further at European dance festivals. At that time we also got to know a group from Indonesia, amongst whom was Agung who plays the talempong. This is a (audibly) similar instrument to the xylophone and makes a magical tone which so delighted and surprised us that we asked Agung to record something with us, which we then put together in one song. This is the charm of our music, we mix what we like into it. In the same song we also incorporated a flute.
Sara: With that example Igor has described why we think we are original, what our vision is and how we are trying to create a unique sound.

Remind us of when and how the band was formed; who are its members and were you active as such a large group from the beginning?
Goran: The band Sarah & The Romans came into existence in 2014, and currently there are ten members. We have also collaborated with musicians from Ljubljana (Slovenia), some permanent members are from Zagreb. We work in a kind of Rijeka-Zagreb-Ljubljana triangle. We are trying to make our music interesting, original and surprising. One instrument appears in an entire song, a second in two musical sections and then no more. This gives vibrancy, dynamics, and colour to the sound. And for that to function and be interesting, you need to have a little orchestra.

Where do you play the most, where can we listen to you?
Igor: We will have the promotion of the album in Rijeka after it comes out. We perform mainly at festivals.

Where did you record the album?
Goran: The songs were recorded in the Mr Lucky and Just Sound studios in Rijeka and in Metro in Ljubljana. Both the mix and mastering of the songs were finished by Mladen Srića (Rijeka, Croatia), Janez Križaj (Ljubljana, Slovenia) and Eduardo Reynoso Jr. (L.A., California).

You play a unique combination of various genres. What are they?
Goran: We are unique in every case because we don’t repeat or copy traditional bluegrass. What is that in effect? It is our polka and waltzes, our European music, central European folk which is permanently in our ears. Bluegrass is acoustic, there are no electric guitars, no drums, it is full of wooden, warm instruments. The whole concept is very optimistic, positive… Such as we are in spirit, so is our music.

Are you recognised in Croatia?
Sara: Yes, we are recognised, but in small circles. However, again we don’t play traditional bluegrass. It is not for older audiences, we are making music for the younger people. Radio stations are playing our music, we are played a lot abroad, for instance on British stations, and many more in America… One of our songs was in the Top 10 in Missouri.

Was singer Sara Blažić in the band from the beginning?
Igor: Yes, we met during karaoke shows, she made a great impression on us because she had a very interesting voice. Also with her in the band are the singers Nikolina Akmadža and Matea Dujmović who also plays flute on one song.

You are collaborating with the 92-year-old singer Bruno Petrali. Can you tell us something more about that?
Goran: Yes, at the same time with the band we are working on the project Sarah & The Romans feat. Bruno Petrali.
Igor: Petrali is a legend. He is 92 years old, he knows everything about music, everything about sport. We have recorded a duet with him, a version of the song ‘Una sola volta ci si ama’, with his original translation. It was joy to work with Petrali and so we recorded two more songs, a version of ‘Bambina’ by Neno Belan which he translated into Italian and a version of the song ‘Sve moje jeseni su tužne’ (’All My Autumns Are Sad’) by Žarko Petrović, which Petrali sang originally way back in 1957.

Goran: We are also working on a special album with Iva Santini, a young singer-songwriter from Rijeka, who is also the writer of one of the songs on our first album. The album with Iva will be something very innovative, different. Her genre is folk-ethno, and she usually plays the Celtic harp and ukulele.

Members of the band:
Singers: Sara Blažić, Nikolina Akmadža, Matea Dujmović
Violin: Antun Stašić, Nikola Čeran, Mislav Salopek
Mandolin: Roman Tomašković
Banjo: Goran Troha
Dobro, guitar: Boris Luka Luković
Guitar: Zoran Bebe Petrović
Double bass: Domagoj Zubo Zubović
Harmonica: Ivica Dujić
Drums: Suzan Vidović
Booking manager: Igor Willheim

Guests on the album ‘First Date’:
Anja Hrastovšek and Jasna Žitnik, Ivana Marić, Artemija Stanić, RiverBlue (Vedran and Ivana Mlakar), Mirna Škrgatić, Mladen Srića, Nataša Manestar, Damjan Vasiljević, Sempre Allegro Choir Rijeka, Dino Džopa Šemsudin, Vanja Dizdarević, Damjan Grbac, Tilen Stepišnik, Dušan Pjer Ladavac, Uroš Šuljić, Žiga Šercer, Nikola Jovanović, Krešimir Kunda, Klaudio Kolar, Petar Tepšić, Rajko Ergić and Ivan Pjerić Dorčić.

(Translated by Martin Mayhew from the original Croatian article here)

Follow Sarah & The Romans on:
Facebook
Youtube

Buy the album ‘First Date’ on iTunes here.
and Google Play here.

England to India by automobile, via Fiume in 1924

FROM ENGLAND TO INDIA BY AUTOMOBILE
An 8,527-mile Trip Through Ten Countries, from London to Quetta, Requires Five and a Half Months
BY MAJOR F.A.C. FORBES-LEITH

extract: THE FIUME “LIONS” OF ITALY’S POET SOLDIER

Our next stop was at Fiume (Rijeka), the scene of the coup of Gabriele d’Annunzio, Italy’s poet patriot. It is also a fine port, but a mean city in comparison with Trieste. A narrow river separates it from Susak, the Yugoslavian frontier town.

An impressive sight in the city was the great number of apparently idle young men with shock heads of hair fluffed out like a lion’s mane. We thought this must be the latest thing in Fiume masculine styles until an English-speaking friend explained that this is the hall mark of d’Annunzio’s “lions,” who, with him, captured the city.

We were warned not to upset any of them, as they have the reputation of being excessively irascible and a law unto themselves.

After a night in Fiume, we crossed the frontier bridge to Yugoslavia. The incredible change made by those few yards is impossible to imagine – a jump from stagnation and slackness to hurry and bustle.

The only place into which the general energy had not penetrated was the customhouse. We had a letter of introduction to the chief revenue officer, who told us that, as a great favour, they would rush us through the formalities. The “rush” required six hours to deal with our small outfit!

The officials seemed to like our company. As soon as the papers were passed to a fresh clerk, he would come and have a friendly chat with us on European politics, our trip, and, in fact, anything but the business concerned. They were so cheery and genial that we could not take offense; so we smoked endless cigarettes and waited.

Overland from England to India in late 1924 by Major Forbes-Leith. Here seen in Baghdad on 20th August 1924.

EVERY VILLAGE CAFE IN YUGOSLAVIA HAS ITS ORCHESTRA

We were now in a new kingdom, a charming country of delightful, music-loving people. Every little village café has its orchestra of young men playing the guitar and mandolin, and accompanied by a trio or quartette of girl singers. The former stand and play; the latter sit in a row in front and sing national songs from dusk to midnight.

The Croats and Serbs are fine fellows of good physique, very hard workers, great patriots, and among the finest soldiers in the world. Serbia, before the World War, was spoken of as a little Balkan state; now she must be reckoned as a power in Europe.

English police uniforms used in Zagreb in the 1920s.

At Agram (Zagreb), the capital of Croatia, formerly part of the old Austrian Empire, we had a shock that made us rub our eyes. In front of us at the first crossroad, was the embodiment of an English policeman, with helmet, uniform, and baton complete. We heard afterward that the whole police force of the city was modeled and trained on British lines, even uniforms being supplied by outfitters in England.

In atmosphere, architecture, and general plan, Agram is a miniature Vienna. It has a fine opera house, and the architecture is for the most part typically Austrian.

Living is very cheap here for the man who carries either the pound sterling or the dollar.

*******

The trip was made in 1924 and published by The National Geographic Magazine August 1925.

There was even a cameraman on the trip and there exists footage – called ‘Lure of the East’ of some of the trip available here on the British Pathe archives website. And on Vimeo – watch at 1:00 and you’ll see a Zagreb copper: https://vimeo.com/45439980

Thanks to Saša Dmitrović for the source material.

Rijeka Trails – website and brochure translations

Latest website and brochure translation for the tourist boards of Kastav, Klana, Viškovo, Jelenje, Čavle, Kostrena, Bakar, Kraljevica and Rijeka. Full of detailed paths and trails for all ages. It features the distances, difficulties, GPS coordinates, altitudes, walking times, sights and facilities of each route.

website: https://rijekatrails.com/en/
pdf brochure: http://www.visitrijeka.eu/docs/tzrijeka2013HR/documents/194/1.0/Original.pdf

MMSU 2016 exhibition translations

MMSU montageTwo exhibition guides I translated for MMSU (Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, Rijeka). Milan Šober was a well respected photographer from Rijeka and this collection features images from the Rijeka environs in the 1950s – more info about the exhibition here. Ivan Marušić Klif is a modern experimenter in media using kinetic, light and video installations – more info about the exhibition here.

Milan Šober – Crtica iz riječke povijesti (A sketch from Rijeka’s photo-history) ISBN 978-953-8107-07-8
Ivan Marušić Klif – Novi radovi (New Works) ISBN 978-953-8107-10-8

Janko Polić Kamov – sabrana djela

All four original volumes of Kamov’s work, with dust jackets. Published by the ‘Otokar Keršovani’ publishing company in Rijeka. Edited by Dragutin Tadijanović, artwork by Miljenko Stančić.
Vol. 1 – Pjesme, novele i lakrdije 1956
Vol. 2 – Isušena Kaljuža 1957
Vol. 3 – Drame 1957
Vol. 4 – Članci i feljtoni – pisma 1958
Kamov sabrana djela

Lirika Janka Polića-Kamova 1921

kamov-kritika-1921Kritika – književno umjetnička revija – January 1921 edition contains part one of this essay about Janko Polić Kamov’s poetry by his brother Nikola Polić.

LIRIKA JANKA POLIĆA – KAMOVA

  1. PLAMENI STIHOVI.

„Ja sam plamen, ja sam mač“. (Heinrich Heine)

Još prije dvanaest i više godina — kao i danas — bili su stihovi Janka Polića – Kamova predmetom čudjenja i izrugivanja baš one štampe, najširoko-grudnije pa i prama najmladjima. Stihovi ovi, još uvijek neotkriveni, uranili su prije zore u crnom, ponornom i ponoćnom kliktaju vječno neumorne, vječno žedne i vječno nesretne duše. Sudbina svih iskrenih pjevača. Sivi, tmurni je albatros to poletio grozničavim platnom razderanog neba, ne pazeći na pravilni i ma­tematski lijet aeroplana. Za to su mnogi kazali: Evo ptice, koja leti loše!

Daleko prije Krleže, njegovih simfonija i njegovih nasljedovatelja živio je kod nas jedan — nazovimo ga tako, akoprem netačno — intelektualni, individualni, pa makar i aristokratski boljševik, Spartakus par exellence, raz­likujući se od današnjih time, što u ono vrijeme ne bijaše ultrarevolucionarnost u književnosti moda, šablona i reklama.

Tada se radjala — odvojena od nacionalizma — hrvatska, upravo zagrebačka moderna, pod protektoratom Velikog Meštra Augusta Drugog, koja je dala nepismenoj našoj javnosti nekoliko odličnih i gotovih književnih profila. Ta čisto lirska Plejada, zanešena i besprikorna, umjerena i tiha, nenasrtljiva i nereklamna, pjevala je starijim ritmom, ali uvijek novim emocijama i novim senzacijama, uvijek tradicionalno vezana uz ustaljene forme, da nastavi svojim vidicima i putovima — sama, zamišljena, daleka od savremenog neukusa, bez kompromisa ali i bez zaraze. Matoš, koji je — danas to mi svi pošteno priznajemo — znatno influisao na ovu plavu i mladu radost naših dana pasjih, nije djelovao nikako na unutarnji razvitak lirike Janka Polića-Kamova, akoprem je njihov put, kao i sudbina, bio gotovo kongruentan. Konkurencija, blagorodna gospodja Jalova bila je izmedju njih bespredmetna i nemoćna. Obojica proganjana od službene, doktorske i profesorske kritike, sastali se, vodjeni podzemnim putovima čitave Evrope u Zagrebu, kod „Frankopana” dabome, a zajedničko im je bilo samo grlo i mizerija našeg tričavog i tračavog ambienta.

Grupa oko Matoša pjevala je samo lijepo i o lijepome, osvojena rezignacijom i tišinama. U lirici Janka Polića – Kamova ne osjeća se ni najtanji trag svega toga. Moglo bi se općenito reći, da on ružno pjeva o ružnome. Anacionalan i prognanik, bez doma i bez pratnje, rabiatan i krvav do srži, on nije kanda pripadnik plemena S. H. S. Grabancijaš, ali ne onaj kafana i promenada, proputovao je do svoje osamnaeste godine pola Balkana, većinom pješke, po Gorkijevom uzoru, da nakon šest godina naiđe na svoj kobni i glupavi finale tamo negdje u španskoj Barceloni, što li je?

Taj tragični skitnik bez maske nosio je po cijelom svijetu, u srcu kao i u mozgu svirepu, viseću, veliku i crnu viziju, a njegovo ostentativno komadanje duše i nerava nije bio nikad sport, literatura i danguba.

Grupa oko Matoša, otmena i izrađena, nalazila je često svoju inspiraciju u neplaćenoj bijeloj kafi i to nije vic, zaboga! I Polić – Kamov imao je svoju Muzu, manje diskretnu, ali zato vrlo, vrlo ordinarnu i brutalnu, sastojeću se od četiri prapočela svih dekadenata: duhan, alkohol, žena i histerija. Njegov su moto ova četiri stiha:

„Ja ljubim bol i patnju i gorčinu
u živoj rani!
A zaborav ću ljepšu nać’ u vinu
Neg u nirvani!“
(Strast bitka)

Alkohol je postao njegovom vitalnom potrebom, stvarajući od njega izraziti tip fiziološkog alkoličara. Svaka njegova pijača svršavaše ludim, konvulzivnim plačem, koji je ridanje, i svaka prolumpovana noć bila je jedan grč, jedna etapa, jedan fokus u ludom njegovom i bezglavom životu. Avaj, nije to rujno, rujansko, đulabijsko vino naših opjevanih Gorica! Nije to satirski, pudarski smijeh sa Vidrićevog Prekrižja i sa Haulikovog baroknog Maksimira. Nije to vino radosti, o kome pjeva Vilko Gabarić u svojem nasmijanom Vinogradu. Rakija, teška, olovna, vampirska rakija kitila je ognjenom aureolom ponorni pad njegovih ponoćnih strofa. To je lirika mȍre, što mori modra, muzička i mirna morâ. To su vizijski grčevi, okovani histeričkim plačem kao krvavi, razulareni bičevi:

„Nakvašeno, crno platno kožom
joj se zmijski svija
i kroz njega trzaj mesa u
ružičnom dahu sija.
To je žena trudnih sisâ
što sa neba sapu traži…
a morski je cjelov pljuska i grebeni nokat draži“.
(Voluptas)

Taj nas nenaravni, ali zdravi perverzitet malo zbunjuje, kad saznamo, da je to pisano u doba, kad se inače pjevaju soneti prvim naborima zaljubljenih hlača.

Samo jedna alkoholom povaljena strast kadra je rađati stihove guste i masne u embriu bolnog, bijesnog, bolesnog i bespomoćnog neutaženog užitka:

„Kroza zastor mast se cijedi ko sa smokve mast sladčine
pod raskošjem bujnog neba, po kome se priča lijeva, zalutala iz pjesama
ljiljana i cedrovine“.
(Poezija)

Pijani, crveni, krvavi i crni su to stihovi, kao boje na nekoj ustalasanoj, nemirnoj, neurednoj, burnoj i grozničavoj paleti:

„Duša dršće; to je priča zašaptala sa nebesa
u bojama, što se mijese u Gomori, na istoči,
kad se miješa karmin krvi, crno kosâ, bijelo mesa.
Duša dršće ko da akord jedna tanka struna toči
navinuta, ištipana, strašću prsti izbijena:
Bješe riječ, što se proli, klikćuć’ u šir: žena, žena!
(Poezija)

I ta pjesma (sonet) nazvana Poezija služi kao sentenca čitave te lirike, noseći u sebi sve jake karakteristike onog Polića – Kamova, koji još nije pošao na Zapad i na Jug, da svoj bujni, burni i bojovni duh smiri ironijskim rezignacijama i izigravanjem vlastitog srca. To je bila lirika bluda: čisto primarna i nejasno jasna, sa krikovima i trikovima duše što srlja, riga i pijucka.

Pjevači hrvatske mlade lirike (1908—1914) nisu nikad izravno pjevali ženi mesa, o fiziološkoj životinji i beštijici, shvatajući je tek kao kostur ili kao hostiju na oltaru svojih blijedih i bijelih vizija — i to ih je sačuvalo na pristojnoj visini, ne dajući im povoda, da se banališu i provulgare. Malo imade pjesama iz ove grupe, gdje bi fizis bio osjećaj, rima i ritam.

Drukčije je Polić-Kamov opjevao ženu, o kojoj najviše pjevaše, jer je ona meso njegovih rima i bȉlo njegovog ritma. Njegova žena ne udara nikad u pianino i ne voli da siše krv hrizantema; ne prelijeva se ona u zelenom otrovu što pada na noćno, usnulo i prigušeno svijetlo. Njegova je žena svačija i ničija, prostitutka iz najcrnjih dna života, što draži, svija, kida meso ispija mozak. To je persiflaža Turgenjevljevih Liza i Gjema, Dostojevskijevih Aglaja i Sonja; ona se približava Carmeni, crnom kriku seviljske svile i omamnom dimu Belladonna cigarete.

„Amo te ženo jeftinog mesa i skupog plača,
s haljinom trulom što vjetar snese ljudskog sred drača;
umor je zadro pospane crte na tvome oku,
a muški prsti modrice tupe po tvome boku’,
na tvome mesu svi smo mi pošli koracim’ grubim
i naše stope pričat će svijetu kako se ljubi.
(Blud duše)

„Dođi o trinaestljetna s valovljem nabrekle kože
ko koža napete svrži,
o živo takni me meso i s puti podatnom tvojom
i ovo savjesti sprži“.
(Krik)

U istom posvećenom hramu, u toj tišini tišina, sluša on krvavo golicanje bluda, grijeha i mesa:

„Orgulje bruji hramom,
a ženska grla raskvašena s poja
po njemu srču samom.
O nema stvora toga,
što ženskih struna ne bi lizno zvuka
u hramu istog Boga!“
(U hramu)

U ovim se pjesmama ništa ne retušira. Ovo je sve snimljeno na licu mjesta, u punokrvom nekom transu. Suvišak potencije, koji izbija poput čira.

Ali on nije uvijek napeto griješan. U časovima dobre volje on će zapjevati i Radičevićevim žargonom:

„O tuda prođite noškom: čarapa obijest joj zakri i none u crno zavi;
Planut će eter, kad proljet izdane požudno sapu i suknje o tijelo savi.
Šuškat će daleka priča: košuljom ovita tankom kroz goru prošla je dijeva
i tud je prosulo nebo i suze i podsmjeh i ljubav
i po njoj rosulju lijeva!”
(Nova proljet)

Samo onaj pjesnik, koji od iskona nosi povrh svih životinjskih ekscesa, u orgiji plamena, visoko gore, uvijek gore i gore jedan bludni, sveti i griješni vjeruju, kadar je da završi knjigu pjesama potresnim i ciničkim grčem poput Polića – Kamova, te svoju Golgotu krvi, požara, mesa, duše i nerava zaključuje đavoljim krstom Ridanjem jedne bludnice. Začepite uha, vi blijedi i eterni! Zakrilite oči vaše, mili i slađani! Okrenite se u grobu, vi, te u miru počivate! Pjesnik, pošto je slomio korbač na šiji glatkog i jeguljastog Snoba, pošto je pljunuo, formalno pljunuo na sve lijepe i nebeske vidokruge, te nakon što je prouzročio skandal, javnu sablazan, pada k nogama jedne jadne, ordinarne, glupe i zaražene bludnice. Ne iz prkosa, već zbog neke unutarnje, nesavladive i vizionarne ljubavi. On laže, kad se upoređuje sa Raskoljnikovom, ne iz proračunanosti, već iz samilosti prama sebi: on ljubi bludnicu, ženu na križ pribijenu, on ljubi sve ono vanzakonsko. Braća, čudna, čudna braća. Taj konačni rušeći povik nije kombinovan. Doživljeno je to, krvavo doživljeno. Crni taj liričar nije pjevao ženi obligatnim i mirisnim pervezitetom D’Annunzia iz brijačkih i modnih salona; njegovo ženstvo nije parfimisani žargon neumrlog Marcel Prevosta; nije ni pikantni sos za komije i sobarice Guy de Maupassanta. Taj gusti, masni i čemerni slador zalutao je tamo negdje sa biblijskih obala Salamunove pijane pjesme nad pjesmama. Vreli, uzavreli potok pobunjene krvi, što teče i nikad ne prestaje. Ta je dekandentska lirika — prepotentna i taj paradoks spada među aksiome, kad se citira ta neburžoaska i nesalonska lirika.

Histerija bauči i strahuje tu prekidanim i neuređenim ridanjem i izbitim, rastrganim smijehom, te siječe i reže njegove tanane, fine, ženske i razbludne usnice. Jedno nemirno sunce vise pred tim crnim Bosjakom, te poput Stanka Vraza ne poznavaše kompromisa između pjesme i života. Život je pjesma, pjesma je život. Dok i današnji književnici posjeduju spašenu životnu egzistenciju, Janko Polić – Kamov nije bio niti korektor. U pjesmi je živio, pjevajući kroz cijeli život nonšalansom La Fontaineovog cvrčka. Pitanje hrane, novca, odijela, stana i kuće bilo je tako daleko od njega, pa pošto je izdurao i najjadnije dane, plašila ga je samo pomisao na mir, dom i sitost.

Tom pjesniku, dalekom od svih koterija i škole, osporavahu pravo pjevanja, upućivajući ga na novinarstvo, na fejton, na bablju republiku. Po shvatanju kritičara, bilo je to njegovo „pravo polje rada”. Koliko kuriozne gluposti i stupidnog prenemaganja bogom nadahnute i na čast doktora promovirane kritike. Još i danas nekoji kritičari drže i Matoša lošim pjesnikom, držeći se valjda one „kritičar je gospodin koji se pokadšto miješa u ono, u što se ne razumije”. (S. Mallarmè.)

Polić-Kamov dao je svoje najpersonalnije, najkamovskije radove upravo u lirici, ne imajući preteča, počevši od sebe samoga. Ta elipsa bila je bez fokusa i jakost izraza njegovog stiha nije ni manja ni slabija ni providnija od najjačih verzova S. S. Kranjčevića, nadmašivši i autora Mramorne Venere svojim rapsodijama na prebitoj harfi (S gladi, Sunce, Dan gospodnji i t. d.)

U stvaranju silno nejednak, kao oluja što nosi na svome krilu tišinu i grom, on će nakon sadističkog buncanja zabugariti bukoličkom finesom razmaženog i suptilnog pjevača:

„Pod sunčanom krošnjom od zlatnijeg granja
Ko prašak im zlaćani list —
Poneso se smiješak što cjelove pruža,
a cjelov i draškav i čist.
I zadrhta atmos što pobud raznosi
i poljupce baca ko lud
i reko bi: negdje s plamtećega boštva
talasa se nečija grud.
(Nova Proljet)

Nije li to — čudno — kristalna slika vedrine i krajobraza:

„Cisto je nebo ko djetinja sanja
ko crno s ptičijih oči;
a sunce s dražesti mirisnu blagost
kroz oblak modrine toči“.
(Nova Proljet)

Ali tih svijetlih momenata ima malo kod njega.

Velika je griješka, upravo znak katastrofalnog i fatalnog neshvatanja, što gotovo svi nazrijevahu u njegovim stihovima ideju, tendensu i uvodni članak za anarhistična glasila. Pjesma ne pozna ideje, pa bila ta ideja i najbizarnija. Pjesma je samo izraz — kap sunca ili kap otrova. U pjesmi je Bog ili Ahasver. Metafizika ili rusvaj. Pjesma može biti plava, modra, crna, crvena, siva, ljubičasta, ali nikad komunistički — crvena, anarhistički — crna, nacionalno — trikolorna, naivno — plava i t. d. Takve pjesme uopće nema, a onaj, koji traži utilitarski ili revolucionarni monstrum u poeziji, neka traži i halbcilinder na olimpijskoj i prozirnoj glavi Monne Lise. Pjesma je tu radi pjesme, a žalosne su ambicije onih, čije stihovi imadu zadaću, da ruši sisteme. To su stvari Tolstoja, Lenjina, Radića, Bogumila i prvih kršćana.

*
*     *

Ispitana Hartija i tragični psaltir Psovka natrpani su abisnom bujnošću jedne crne, otrovane, beskućne i besnene lirike, koja nikad, vaj nikad ne zna za samotne i tihe senzacije uspavanih, muzičkih soba, kad pianino šuti i žuti se miris muti u miru zlaćanih mušica, u odsjevu slika i u bolovima strasnog jorgovana. Taj Ahasver sekundirao je moguće i besvijesno Cvijeću zla, samo što mu manjka linija, mjera i zlatni rez Bauderaireove strašne i tanane, muzičke ruke, koja će istim zamahom pogladiti zelenu kosu i savinuti gvozdenu šipku. Mi nemamo ni danas simpatičnih nasljedovatelja te poezije, koja je sakrivena u nas. Marjanović ga je jedini bez viclanja primio u ono vrijeme, prigovarajući mu ipak rimama, izrazu, stilu, dikciji („Suvremenik“ 1907.) ne znajući, da ovo nije knjiga za sladokusce, te da u tim stihovima nema spomenarske, secesionističke, donhuanske i zlatousne vibracije Xeres de la Maraja, monumentalne i dosadne širine Vl. Nazora i usiđeličkih suza Mihovila Nikolića i D.D. Domjanića.

Polić-Kamov nije kumovao mirnoj, modroj lirici, koja smatra svaki stih jednom cjelinom, jednom gotovom vizijom, jednim savršenim i svršenim unutarnjim titrajem, ukratko: jednom kombinaciom. Mirna je lirika našla svoj klimaks u pejzažima, harmoniziranim i jedinstvenim Wiesnerovim sonetima. To je život u košnici, deputacija k seoskim tornjevima, muzika sjenâ zastora i zvončići neba. Drukčija je arhitektura stihova Polića – Kamova. Njegova čitava knjiga, pa da je napisao i deset knjiga, sve bi to šumilo pritajenim orkanom, vrludavim strujama, razbješnjelim valovima jedne jedine pjesme, jednog jedinog stiha. Jedan njegov sonet nosi teret jedne jedine riječi i cijela je ta lirika ispravno okrštena štipajem. Da se jasnije izrazim: nije uzor-pjesnik, ne ulazi ni u koju antologiju, nije akademik i deklamator. Ovo nisu stihovi za recitaciono veče. Do smiješnosti katkad subjektivan, personalan do ekstrema uvijek, smatra knjigu vulgarnom i formalnom ispovijedaonicom, gdje je on, autor, i ispovijednik i griješnik, a čitaoci sveta inkvizicija. Ta je ispovijed zaglušni krik, od kojega će puknuti bubnjić u otmjenom uhu g. Popovića ili će pozliti ciklamskom Domjaniću.

Progonio ga je ovijek onaj krvavi, neboderni krik Marijev iz Tragedije mozgova: Probudite se živ u grobu! – kojim je zanosno i uhodrapateljno završio i Psovku. Ta grozna, strašna i crvljiva vizija, ta Poe-ova romantična i groteskna senzacija provlači se cijelom ovom lirikom, koja se nikad i nikad ne odmara u sjeni vrbinih pramenova i koja nikad ne ugleda kućnog praga obećane hemlje. Bez doma. Bez domovine. Bez ičesa. Bez korijena. Bez sidra. Ukleti Holandez. Jedna neugašena, žedna i bijedna želja, čežnja za eksploziom, za praskom, za gromom, za požarom, za provalom vulkana. Sve to bez futurističkih snobizama. To su pupoljci na majskoj, procvjetaloj svrži otrovanog, prokletog bilja, a prsnuvši, cijedi se iz njih paklena, crna i crvena smola. Odatle i indignacia ondašnje publike, te sitna, sita i žabarska psikaše nad ovim prvijencem čistog, nelicitarskog srca gospodina Bosjaka, koji ostade uvijek Gosparom. Ista nabikulenska i dembelska čeljad prošla je cinički, triumfatorski povrh umornog i viteškog srca Lazara Heine-a, te u smrtnom hropcu žali, što čovječanstvo nema jedne glave, pa da mu pljune u lice crnu, mrtvačku pjenu.

Prem nije poznavao Heine-a, nabasat ćemo često u Ištipanoj hartiji na čisto hajneovske šlagere, koji imadu katkad onu ženskiju od ženâ ciničku zlobu, ujed i frivolnost. Primjerice pjesma pod mističnim naslovom P. S. ima intonaciju, kao i ugođaj autora Buch der Lieder. I u Novoj proljeti kao i u „Mrtvoj Diani” viri ovaj umorni, žalosni i ružni žalac:

„Sjećaš li se? Nova proljet ponijela me k našoj klupi,
po kojoj su sjele sjene:
oličiše novom bojom i nasuše gustim pijeskom
sve što bješe uspomene.
A meni se nešto misli nasmijava crnim mozgom
ko kad jesen lišće mota
i pomišljam, bogzna tko će, da se tvoga hvata pasa
da te ‘nako opet smota!
O, ne drhti! Nije prezir! Negda bijah — znaš me dobro —
preko tebe težak i ja!
A sad možda kumpanija, da, i cijela regimenta
nije teška kad te svija!“
(Nova Proljet)

Svinjarija! Kaj ne? Praštajte, gospodo suci, moraliste, bašibozuci i eunusi! I Magdalena je griješna, a Polić-Kamov oprao je taj cinizam životom i jednom od svojih najumornijih, najljepših nostalgičnih pjesama Kitty. Ovi su nedelikatni, soldački stihovi skrojeni prokletstvom i nije nikad ružan onaj, koji diše previše iskreno. Taj cinik nije, nije cinik, jer je prošao kalvariju srca i pakao duše.

Ta drhtava, razderana i carmenska muzika ponoćne pohote ne zna za blage i tople nijanse pastela i akvarela, jer se ruši u nekom divljem i crnom prahu beskonačne disharmonije, koja je vrlo daleka od drakonskih zakona gospodina Bacha, Johana Sebastiana. Što bi bilo od njega, da ga poznavaše Skerlić, koji je onako po prstima lupio Pandurovića i jadnoga Disa, inače dvije blage i mirne dušice.

Kad danas, nakon deset i više godina listamo tu krajnju ljevičarsku i mladenačku liriku, posrtavamo svakim stihom u ovoj današnjoj blaženoj i učmaloj, selendarskoj monotoniji. Ovi krvavi trzaji, i one crne strofe tralaliču u pijanom i nakvašenom ritmu jedne ognjene konjice, poput đavolje fuge sa bezbroj temata u vječnoj, nezadovoljenoj stretti. Jedno more žeđi. Jedan bezdan prošnja. Flauta i fanfara. Prokletstvo i šumski mir. Tonika i povećana kvarta. Evo, kako zvoni tišina u ovom labirintu:

„A glava bukti i polijetava k’ zidu,
da tresnem njome! . . .
Svet, svet je prasak, a blagosloven Gospod
u miru svome!“
(U mrtvoj noći).

On ne zna za mistiku i u noći ne vidi modru boju violončela, oboe i šumskog roga. Ne sjeća se zelenih, dubokih tišina, a mliječni, vitorogi mjesec izaziva kod njega persiflažu simbolskih i samotnih Vrbanićevih jablanova:

„U toj tmini sovuljastoj ko da lažni privid gaca
i sa sjena bezdušnijeh religije usne krive —
i u gluhu atmosferu umišljene dogme baca,
jablanovi strše u vis ko mesnate duše žive“.
(U nagonu).

Jedna negacija cijele naše lirike. Tamo od Vidrića, Dučića, Rakića, pa preko Wiesnera, Ujevića do Krleže, Šimića, Vinavera i Crnjanskog.

Kad se pojavio, bilo je u troimenom narodu duhovitih danguba, koji udariše u beskonačne burgije, neshvativši, šta više, ne pročitavši tu osebujnu i nikad neepigonsku liriku. Svaka se, pa i najboija stvarca dade izvrći ruglu, a tadanje Zeuse fejtona zbunila je i preplašila ta kuštrava. neelegantna i neštucana prilika, koja je svakom zgodom istupila smjelo, bez rukavica i bez hrizanteme u zapučku.

Bujnost, organsku cjelinu svog pjesničkog izraza kvario je često hotice i znalice nesklapnim stilističkim šiljcima. Vikao je, urlao, zaglušno, nenaštimano pjevao, bančio i strahovao u nekom herostratizmu, koji nikad i nikad nije bio poza ili gesta. Jezik, stil, tradicija, dikcija, Kosovo, Petrova gora, Croacija i t. d. bijahu mu stafažom za nemoćnike, a glupost što urla od Triglava do Vardara, slušao je u Torinu, u Barceloni, u Zagrebu i u Rimu: jer svijet je jedan. Prsnuše okviri Hrvatske, puknut će i remenje Jugoslavije, jer svijet je i opet jedan. Duša, koja živi, ne mari naći Nirvanu u drevnoj Heladi ili na tavanu kakve kamene kućice u Puntu, na otoku Krku.

Ne priznavaše a priori čistoću, plemenštinu i sigurnost stiha. Sveta Jednostavnost je njemu kao i Janu Husu znak gluposti i zlobe. Porušivši arhitekturu stiha, gubi akademsku vedrinu čiče Emersona i poeziju zdravlja, nacije i pobjede. Za Vidovdanski hram ne mari. Klasična, zvučna linija postala je bog te pita što. Ta je plamena lirika daleko od svih dobroćudnih, poltronskih forma; pa ipak je Polić-Kamov uzajmio od Dante-a tercinu, a od ostalih sonet i oktavu, valjda za to, jer ga je privlačila diabolika Dantea, Rinascimenta, papâ i kršćanskih perverziteta.

Poput Ahasvera ne zna za mir i dobrotu i ljepotu i taj čovjek morade umrijeti mlad — kao kaplja — jer je ritam svojih nerva našao u burnom udaranju bȉla, te najnormalnije udaraše stoičetrdeset puta u minuti.

(Svršetak u drugom broju).

Nikola Polić