From the notebook: Chance subjects [excerpt] - Marijan


I used to account for my each and every word.

From childhood onwards, I felt it my innermost responsibility.

My God, how kind I was.

Now indeed, I have turned wicked.

Isn’t there isn’t a single person on this earth, who could understand the hunger of my soul as fullness?

I don’t want to be a slave to my emotions.

The love which imbues one with color, and punishes another is condemnable.

I don’t believe in such a love.

I miss hatred! Hatred, with all the cells of my being, with all the threads of my nerves,

With all the drops of my blood.

My words should be laced with a poison that suffocates the atmosphere.

My wicked breath should incite flowers into shrieks of protest.

My bitter smile should score the earth.

My heart should swell with an evil so great that it exhausts its own dwelling place,

It should explode, pour over the mud, and infect all…

My faint voice should become a headache of dizzying thunder

My light walk should become so heavy, that even bones buried for centuries will feel the pain and agitate.

Oh! My wishes cannot be contained by their own shores.

I spit at the past.

I deny the present.

I burn the future with ten eyes and conspire to crash all planets against each other,

to bring about a new world:

With my own rules.

Marijan, 1925

Translated by Anna Rowson Japaridze

From the Notebook: Chance Subjects [excerpt]

*“I don’t want my scribbles to remain in your history”, 2021, Nino Dzandzava, cyanotype on paper, 44X45