Zvonko Taneski (born 12 March 1980, Skopje) is a Macedonian and Slovak poet, literary critic, university professor in Slovakia and translator. Studies of General and Comparative literature was graduated from the Faculty of Philology of Sv. Cyril and Methodius University in Skopje. In 2007 he defended his PhD. thesis from “Theory and history of Slovak literature” at the Department of Slovak Literature and Literary Science on Comenius University in Bratislava. He worked as an independent researcher at the Institute of World Literature in Slovak Academy of Sciences in Bratislava (2007–2008). In year 2011 the Commission for assessing scientific qualification of Slovak Academy of Science acknowledged his scientific qualification level IIa (senior researcher) in year 2011 and in the same year he received a habilitation at the Faculty of Foreign Languages FON University in Skopje, where he worked from 2011 to 2014. He worked at the Research Institute on Cultural Heritage of Constantine and Methodius in Faculty of Arts at the University of Constantine the Philosopher in Nitra from 2007 to 2011 year and at the same workplace acts as assistant professor (2014–2015). From September 2015 he works as an associate professor on Department of Slavic Philology in Faculty of Arts at Comenius University in Bratislava. Research activities: Comparative Slavonic studies and Balkan Linguistic and Literary studies.
Author of six books of poetry: “Opened doors” (1995, Kuboa), “The Choir of Rotten Leaves” (2000, Matica makedonska), “The Ridge” (2003, Magor), „Chocolate in portfolio” (2010, Blesok), “Necking without warranty card” (2012, Kočo Racin) and “Waiting history” (2016, Antolog). His poems has been translated into numerous languages and published in the national literary periodicals, as well as in the foreign.
Room
Why didn’t they let me change the room and make me feel better, now that even the critics are allowed to change their views and earn more space in the magazines?
They all went for large and bright rooms with evidently functional furniture, and I didn’t even complain about the only one new, but hard armchair, no trace of the second one, though there should’ve been a pair, just like literature is inseparable from the science about it.
Why was I not standard guest when choosing the bed, and was so resolute in my desire to experiment?
Literature needs fresh love masks for modeling: a water-bed, an exotic partner with different skin color, faith, an unexpected adventure…
But not much depended on, I thought, what view the window had, everything depended on where and who she’d look at and who she’d recognize. “Each room has a mirror”, so I hope mine would have one too, for it shouldn’t, by any means, be an exception to the rule.
Why does my head look like a syntagmatic axis though it is laid softly on the pillow, and becomes a hypertext when it sinks in deep sleep?
Shouldn’t they have let me change my room?
Translated into English by Zoran Ancevski. English language editor: Lee Schweninger.
I Wanted To Write
I wanted to write you a poem – to strip you of all the metaphors, metonyms and epithets, so that you be the naked truth, official and recognized by the authorities as a conclusive proof in self-defence
I wanted to write you a message to describe you descending towards me with a collected look, without looking round in case you’re being followed by anyone untamable or indecent
I wanted to write you an e-mail, to arise in your virtual tenderness, and spend the ’ntire night lonesome in front of a running monitor – so that my eyes don’t burn out in the dark – before they get to see you in person after a longer while
I wanted to write you a letter, to reward you with mercy so that you have it in reserve or in surplus whenever you forget to smile when greeting
I wanted to write but I’ve changed the plan. So I further continue to want.
Translated by Jovana Stojkovska
MAKING LOVE AFTER DRUNKEN NIGHT
We’ll be washing our teeth early on
And we’ll be standing long before the mirror with foam in our mouth
We’ll taste our own embarrassment
You will merely ask me early on where you have put your watch
And I'll ask you
To turn on the radio, speaker of the morning news
That will inform us about the thousands of students
That had left home for the holiday
And she’ll tactically say nothing about our last night in the modern boarding school
Early on we’ll feel
Very abandoned and we’ll come outside
At the noisy streets
Searching through our pockets
While we seek out the lost time
And the valid passenger ticket
The wind will blow empty – handed
As unemployed postman
And joyfully will blow away
Crinkled card with hastily written unnecessary address
And so it will be so uncomfortable
And to rely on
The cold window
In the bus
And to keep silent
Nonetheless we talk a lot now
Just as easy as drinking cups,
So that our words can be perfectly
Mixed up
And we’ll fly somewhere up
With no sense that
Hence we’re creating the new man
(Translated by Ana Lazarova Nikovska)
TENDERNESSES WITHOUT WARRANTY SHEET
To those that for the people
Create beauty,
People usually behave badly.
...
Each and every revolution eats its children, but firstly
It will well – feed them.
...
...
Whoever has luck at cards,
Will lose nothing
Well at least while divorcing.
...
Even the muses incline more to the authoress than
To the authors.
...
Very often we agree
About what will be tomorrow,
And then we disagree
About what it was yesterday.
...
In moments of weakness
We’ll say:
"I'll eat you out of love" –
And we immediately lay a criminal act at our door.
The gap is growing.
Tendernesses are being sold
Without any warranty sheet.
Translated by Ana Lazarova Nikovska
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