Daily Lament
‘A poem for such a day as this’
a poem for such a day as this
— is a column where I share my favourite poems and their creators, some of whom might be familiar and some not.
Whatever the case, I hope they elicit a smile, a grin, a tear, a smirk … or, in Kafka’s words — be an axe for the frozen sea within us.
As always — it would be great to hear your thoughts.
A poem for such a day as today is:
Daily Lament,
by Tin Ujević
How hard it is not to be strong,
how hard it is to be alone,
and to be old, yet to be young!
and to be weak, and powerless,
alone, with no one anywhere,
dissatisfied, and desperate.
And trudge bleak highways endlessly,
and to be trampled in the mud,
with no star shining in the sky.
Without your star of destiny
to play its twinklings on your crib
with rainbows and false prophecies.
– Oh God, oh God, remember all
the glittering fair promises
with which you have afflicted me.
Oh God, oh God, remember all
the great loves, the great victories,
the wreaths of laurel and the gifts.
And know you have a son who walks
the weary valleys of the world
among sharp thorns, and rocks and stones,
through unkindness and unconcern,
with his feet bloodied under him,
and with his heart an open wound.
His bones are full of weariness,
his soul is ill at ease and sad,
and he’s neglected and alone,
and sisterless, and brotherless,
and fatherless, and motherless,
with no one dear, and no close friend,
and he has no-one anywhere
except thorn twigs to pierce his heart
and fire blazing from his palms.
Lonely and utterly alone
under the hemmed in vault of blue,
on dark horizons of high seas.
Who can he tell his troubles to
when no-one’s there to hear his call,
not even brother wanderers.
Oh God, you sear your burning word
too hugely through this narrow throat
and throttle it inside my cry.
And utterance is a burning stake,
though I must yell it out, I must,
or, like a kindled log, burn out.
Just let me be a bonfire on
a hill, just one breath in the fire,
if not a scream hurled from the roofs.
Oh God, let it be over with,
this miserable wandering
under a vault as deaf as stone.
Because I crave a powerful word,
because I crave an answering voice,
someone to love, or holy death.
For bitter is the wormwood wreath
and deadly dark the poison cup,
so burn me, blazing summer noon.
For I am sick of being weak,
and sick of being all alone
(seeing I could be hale and strong)
and seeing that I could be loved),
but I am sick, sickest of all
to be so old, yet still be young!
Augustin Josip ‘Tin’ Ujević was a Croatian poet, considered by many to be the greatest poet in 20th century Croatian literature.
From 1921, he signed his name as Tin Ujević.
Ujević was born in Vrgorac, a small town in the Dalmatian hinterland, and attended school in Imotski, Makarska, Split and Zagreb. He completed Classical Gymnasium in Split, and in Zagreb he studied Croatian language and literature, classical Philology, Philosophy, and Aesthetics.
In 1909, while studying literature, his first sonnet “Za novim vidicima” (Towards New Horizons) appeared in the journal Mlada Hrvatska (Young Croatia). After the assassination attempts on the ban Slavko Cuvaj in 1912, Ujević became active in the Nationalist youth movement and was repeatedly imprisoned. On the eve of the First World War, he lived briefly in Dubrovnik, Šibenik, Zadar, Rijeka and for a longer time in Split. The crucial period for his political and poetic consciousness was his visit to Paris (1913–19).
After the death of A.G. Matoš in 1914, Ujević published an essay about his teacher in the literary magazine Savremenik. That same year the anthology of poetry inspired by Matoš, “Hrvatska mlada lirika” (Croatian Young Lyrics) brought together the work of twelve young poets, including ten poems by Tin Ujević. Also in that year, Ujević joined the French Foreign Legion, though he left again after three months at the urging of Frano Supilo.
In 1919, Ujević returned to Zagreb. Around that time he wrote two autobiographical essays “Mrsko Ja” (Hateful Me, 1922) examining his political beliefs, which he described as disenchanted, and “Ispit savjesti” (Examination of Conscience, published in 1923 in the journal Savremenik), which he himself called a “sleepwalking sketch”. It is considered to be one of the most moving confessional texts in Croatian literature, in which an author mercilessly examines their own past.
Ujević lived from 1920 to 1926 in Belgrade, then he moved between Split and Zagreb, back to Belgrade, then to Split again. In 1920 his first anthology of poetry “Lelek sebra” (Cry of a slave) was published in Belgrade, and in 1922 his poem “Visoki jablani” (High Poplars) appeared in the journal Putevi (Roads).
He was well known in bohemian circles in Belgrade and a frequent guest at Hotel Moskva and Skadarlija.
During the years 1930–37, Ujević lived in Sarajevo, then 1937–1940 in Split, finally moving back to Zagreb, where he lived until his death in 1955.
Thank you for reading.
