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WE ARE UNIFYING DIVERSITIES
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Narudžba knjiga / Purchasing of the books / Bücher bestellen
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Samira Begman
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Peter Tase
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Sabahudin Hadžialić
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Samira Begman
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Sabahudin Hadžialić
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Sabahudin Hadžialić
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Samira Begman Karabeg, Cirih, Švicarska

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Samira Begman Karabeg je rođena 1954. u selu Husimovci kraj Sanskog Mosta. Završila je  studij za financijsku trgovinu i menadžment u Cirihu, gdje je i provela najveći dio svog života.
Piše pjesme i prozu kako na bosanskom, tako i na njemačkom jeziku. Od 1977. godine živi u Švicarskoj. Do sada su njeni radovi objavljivani u više antologija.
    Objavila je nekoliko samostalnih zbirki poezije i lirske proze na oba jezika.  2008. godine  je dobitnik nagrade  za pjesmu u lirskoj prozi «Der alte Graf und die Eiche» i  uvrštena je  u antologiju «Frauen Friedensgedanke» organizacije «Kunstraum für Lyrik, Bild und Skulptur“ u Njemačkoj.  Član Udruženja književnika
Istočne Švajcarske.

Objavljena djela:

Samostalna izdanja:

•    2003. «Die Weberin», zbirka pjesama na njemačkom jeziku, izdavačka kuća «Andrea Stangl» u
Njemačkoj
•    2005. «Na pragu / An der Schwelle», dvojezična zbirka pjesama, samostalno izdanje
•    2007. «Drei Tage in Israel», novela na njemačkom jeziku, izdavačka kuća «Dhira» u Švicarskoj
•    2008. «Zeichen», zbirka pjesama na njemačkom, izdavačka kuća «Littera Autoren Verlag» u Švicarskoj
•    2008. «Koji ovud projdeš», «Dhira» - Verlag, Švicarska i Bosna i Hercegovina
•    2009. «Stazama divokoza», «Dhira» - Verlag, Švicarska i Bosna i Hercegovina
•    2009. «Tristanovi akordi», «Dhira» - Verlag, Švicarska i Bosna i Hercegovina

Antologije i zajednička izdanja:

•    2004. «Zeit der Sprachlosigkeit», «Diwan» – Verlag, Švicarska
•    2004. «Bibliothek deutschsprachiger Gedichte», «Realis» – Verlag, Njemačka
•    2005. «Stimme der Natur», «Diwan» – Verlag, Švicarska
•    2007. «Meine Nachbarn», «Free Pen» Verlag – Njemačka
•    2008. «Pod istim nebom», «Dhira» - Verlag, Švicarska i Bosna i Hercegovina


                          Odsjaji nedovršenih nadanja...

           
O Samiri Begman Karabeg sam zaista mnogo pisao. U recenzijama za njene tri samostalne knjige koje sam i uredio kao i za jednu gdje se pojavljuje zajedno sa još desetak autora. No, jednostavno je, zaista bolno jednostavno zaključiti, da se uvijek može citius altius fortius i u književnosti samoj. Ipak, dodacu jos (naravno!) nešto na sve rečeno o njoj od strane ovoga lika:

http://tristanoviakordi.blogspot.com/
http://sabahudinh.tripod.com/samirabegman/ i 

http://www.diogenis.0fees.net/autori.authorsSamira
BegmanKarabeg_files/autori.authorsSamiraBegmanKarabeg.htm

i last but not least

http://sabahudinh.tripod.com/samirabegmankarabeg/ .

Taj dodatak je: Blagost njenog izraza je uobličeni oblik sopstvenih, pretpostavljenih, nadanja životu što streme. Nepotvrđene glasine da smrt zaista postoji nestaju u susretu sa njenom poetikom. Žesticom misli.

Riječ urednika
Sabahudin Hadžialić

                     Reflections of unfinished hopes...

           About Samira Begman Karabeg I actually wrote a lot. The reviews for three individual books of Samira  that I edited and one book more where she appeared along with a dozen other authors. However, it's simple, really painfully simple just to conclude, one can always Citius Altius Fortius, even in the literature itself. However, I will add (of course!) something to put on all already said by the side of this figure:


http://tristanoviakordi.blogspot.com/
http://sabahudinh.tripod.com/samirabegman/ i 

http://www.diogenis.0fees.net/autori.authorsSamira
BegmanKarabeg_files/autori.authorsSamiraBegmanKarabeg.htm  

i last but not least

http://sabahudinh.tripod.com/samirabegmankarabeg/ .


This supplement is: The gentleness of her expression is shaped form of her own, superior, hopes that seeks for a life/living. Unconfirmed rumors that death really exists is disappearing when it meets her poetry. Brandy of thoughts.


Editor's word
Sabahudin Hadzialic


VILLA AMIRA, Street Ante Starčevića 33, 
Orebić, Croatia
http://villaamira.weebly.com/

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Sama, daleko od Jednoroga

Nastojim ga u drugima naći
Pa razgradujem, rastvaram noći,
Želim im u san ući, u trešnju usne,
Obilježja identiteta, iza govora
Riječ isklesati onu baš što evo
Zapečaćena nasljeđima pršti
u mlazu vokala da bi se znanje
skriveno, to tajne zametanje
početka u tisuću čestica razišla
davna tama, ta riječ o nama.

Otkad kao zvjezdana prašina
Stopih s Jednorogom sebe
Ja nailazim na ljude koji mi
Se istim onim drugim čine
Koji obiljem svojih obilježja
Raskorijenjeni tvore više bića
Jedne jedine osobe koja boli i
Voli pustoš svakog svog djelića
Osjetim zebnju, strese me stud
Kad vidim, da od onog čime su
Razlistali svoju ćud da ono što
Im se u duši nastanilo nije drugo
Do li mrtvačkih sjena žustro kolo.

Alone, Far Away From Unicorn   

I try my best to see his reflection in others
So I tear down and dilute the night,
I want to be in their dream, in the apple of their eye
At the core of identity, beyond expression
Carve the word, The Word, that
Will burst under the burden of legacy
In a fountain of vowels so that the wisdom
Hidden, in the sacred moment of creation of
The beginning, and will dispel in a thousand of particles 
Eternal darkness, that word about us.

Since like a star dust
I and Unicorn became one
I chance upon people who
Look like the other one
And whose features, characteristics
Separately from more than one being
The only being who hurts  and
Is dedicated to the desolation of its own essence
I am anxious, I feel the chill
When I see, that what was left from
The debris of their true nature, and what was left
To dwell in their souls, is nothing but
A brisk dance of deadly shadows.

Čežnja

Čežnja je ogromna moć,
Može progutati ocean,
iz ponora odagnati tminu
kad se rasplamsa
spaliti u vrućici zlatna žita
koja su posijali pa ostavili
već zaboravljeni vojnici,
ona postaje izvor u pustinji
patnje njoj mogu krvariti
na rogu sa rogovlja
deset joj srca kuca u
samo jednom pologu.

žudnja za ljubavlju, ljubavi žudnja
Mojeg tijela lutnja čijim akordom
Često uzdiše nezasitna šutnja
Za ovosvjetskim sjajem žudjeti
S Jednorogova oka ne može
Mojim vjetrovitim jedriti beskrajem
Kojim ja samu sebe žudim,
u kojem sebe nalazim i gubim,
gdje sa svitanjem rudim i budim
čežnje za bokorom jasmina,
u nevenovom listu gonetam
šapate izmedu zvijezda i morskog
vala riječi koje žude
carstvo Božje.

Duh počinje slutiti,
Sam sa sobom govoriti,
U okno modro zuriti u nebu
Da postoji i nešto drugo ondje,
Da drugi nego mi po okna staklu
Staklo odonud okom grebu
Da izvan ovog ovdje neko
našu budi žudnju
Dotaknuti kap zore gdje
Više ne gore vatre
daljine kad pozivaju
Tijela da se u dimu rasplinu
u Božjeg smetljišta carstvu.

Yearning 

Yearning is immensely potent
It can swallow oceans
Dispel the darkens from the abyss
And when in full swing
It can burn fields of golden wheat
Sown and left untended
By forgotten soldiers.
It becomes a spring in the desert
of suffering, it could shed blood
Through the root of the horn
It is like ten hearts pounding in unison
In just one heartbeat.

Yearning for love, love yearning
My body desire that reverberates
Repeatedly through the accords of unquenchable silence
For the mundane glitz
From Unicorn’s eye
It cannot sail through my troublesome infinity
That I make myself yearn for,
Where I find and loose myself,
Where I greet the dawn and the day.
Yearning for the bunch of jasmine flowers,
Yearning to solve the riddle in the marigold leaf
Whispers between the stars and the wave
Expressions of yearning
Realm of God.

The spirit feels presentment,
Starts talking to itself,
Gazes at the big blue above
There is something else up there,
There are others who stare at the big blue
Cares the big blue
Someone from the outside, someone
Stirs our yearning
To touch the drop of dawn where
Faraway fires died
When they called out for our bodies
To fade away
And turn into debris in the kingdom of God.


Znakovi
Ti koji odčitaš moj kam možda si hodio do zveizda.
I vratio se jer tami
nema ništa do ponovo ti sam.
Človek mojže vidjeti ono tšto nije vidio,
tčuti ono tšto nije tčuo, okusiti ono tšto nije okusio,
biti tami gdi nije bio, al uvijek i svugdi samo sebe
može najti ili ne najti.
I da ostaviš kosti u tujini i tad bih samo Bosnu sanjo.*

                                           *Epitaf na stećku kneza Nenca, 1094 godine.  

To dijete sam zaboravila
negdje, na kamenim putevima
i lutah, zatupljenih čula
bolno ćuteći da sam ostavljena.

On je sve to predvidio
i ostavio mi znakove na putu,
oči da širim.

Čitajući znakove te
u prašini, na kamenu vrêlu
pronađoh opet dijete
gluho i slijepo, i s ranama na tijelu.

Stisnuh ga na grudi
i prepoznah tu sudbinu kletu-
u njegovim znacima svoj život hudi
i sebe u djetetu.

Sve je on predvidio,
moja stoljetna pročišćenja
u bolnom plamenu,
i ostavi mi eliksir iscjeljenja
 na bogumilskom kamenu.

Signposts 

Those who read my epitaph might have touched the stars
And returned to darkness
Where there was nothing else but you.
The man could have seen what they have not seen yet
Heard what they have not heard yet
Visited the place where one has ever been yet, but always and everywhere
One can either find or loose oneself.
You’d dream of Bosnia even if you died away from it.

                                      Epitaph on the grave stone of prince Nenc, 1094

I never forgot this child
Left, among the rocky paths
And I roamed, my senses blinded
Feeling the pain of being abandoned.
He had predicted it all
And left me the signposts
To look for, my eyes widely opened.

I followed them
In the dust, at the spring
And I chanced upon the child
Deaf and blind, wounds inflicted all over its body.

I embraced the youngster
And at that moment recognized the bleak destiny -
The signposts carried the guilt he felt
For having left a part of himself in the kid.

He had predicted it all,
My century-long cleansing
Through agonizing bonfires,
He bequeathed me the healing potion
And left it on the rock of mercy.


Trostruka želja  

...a kada bih, kao u bajci
tri želje na volju imala
ja bih samo jedno,
samo jedno, al' trostruko željela:
da gledam kolone –
iscrpljeni i razoružani
raspamećeni i zagrljeni
vraćaju se vojnici
hiljadama kuća kao svojoj,
svoj djeci kao našoj.

Triple Wish

…if I would live in a fairy tale
and a golden fish asks me
which three wishes I have
I would ask her to grant me
the same one
three times:
to see soldiers
exhausted and disarmed
oblivious
hugging each other,
to see
the thousands of troops coming home
to their children,
to our children.


Jednom  

I mi ćemo ploviti,
vodama mirnim
i pristajati
u lukama željenim

I prolaziti kraj spomenika
davno zaboravljenih,
nečijih junaka
iz vremena prohujalih

A diviti se jednom,
sasvim običnom cvijetu
I šapatu vjetra,
i kliktaju u letu
i letu u ptici
koji vječnosti vodi

Once

We will sail
through tranquil waters
and dock
into the ports we choose.

And pass along the monuments
of forgotten
and faraway heroes
from the times bygone.

And we will appreciate
a very plain flower
a whisper of wind
a cry of a bird
and its flight
towards the infinity


Povratak Jednorogu

Misao iz Riječi
oplodi Ništa
i beskonačnost uzdrhta.
Rodi se Mahat Tatva.
JA, od Njega se odvojih
i gorjeh vatrom Stvaranja,
ja, svijetu žrtvovana.

Pustinjskom olujom iluzije
zametana
surovom Kali Yuga
brušena;
savladavam vjetrove strasti,
nestaje noć,
vatra stvaranja se gasi
iluzija gubi moć.

Zadirem u svijet Snage misli,
u njemu i Ljubavi,
Njegov zov zvučan biva.
Tim zvukom ja se uznosim
gdje Jednorog
moj povratak sniva.

Unicorn Returns 

A Thought conceived form A Word
Seeped intoNothingness
And infinity trembled.
MahatTattva is born.
I, separated from Him
Consumed by the flames of Creation
I, sacrificial lamb.

Swept by the desert storm of illusion
Annihilated by vicious Kali Yuga,
I make my way
Through the  whirlpool of Desire,
The night disappears,
The fire dies,
The illusion eases its grip.

I penetrate the world of the Power of Thought,
And there I find Love,
His call becomes more distinct.
The echo carries me to
To the place
Where
Unicorn dreams of my return.


Genius

U plamu njegovih očiju,
dijete mi se predaje,
bezazlenoi nespretno
u valovlju življenja
kojeg savladavati
nije naučilo,
ali, kad stane pred orkestar
i samopouzdano
dirigentsku palicu u ruke uzme
a iz nje s ruke mu vične
sijevaju munje
i milozvučna arija - biserni slap
iz svemira izlijevati stane
i onaj momenat,onaj tren,
kad,
prije nego podigne palicu
okrene se
i moj pogled potraži,
zastane mi dah,
stane vrijeme
i ja vidim
kako zvuci harmonije
jedno djetinjstvo
iz pećine nevremena
Jednorogom uzdižu
u nebesko procvjetavanje.

Genius 

The glint in his eyes
Reflects the surrender of
Innocent and innocuous child,
Brimming with life’s desire,
Hard to rein in
At this young age,
But when the child faces the orchestra
And confidently
Lifts the baton
And creates a thunderstorm of accomplished moves
And the divine aria – a string of pearls
Pours from the heaven
And the moment when
Before the baton is raised
He pauses
He turns
He looks for me
It makes my heart stop
It makes the time stop
And I feel
How the sounds of harmony
Arising through the Unicorn’s horn
Carry the childhood
From the tempestuous cave
Into celestial orchard.


Kasno je

Sa hiljadu pitanja
stala sam pred Njega,
"Dijete, rukohvati klasja
iz tvojih usta pršte",

reče mi,
"Evo, odgovori su ovdje..."
gledala sam,
gledala...
bila je samo voda...
sad znam,
trebalo je zaronuti.

To Late I asked Him

Thousands of questions,
“My dear child, the golden pebbles
Spring up from your mouth”,


So he said,
‘Look, here are the answers…”
I looked,
And looked….
There was only water…

I know now
I should have taken the plunge.


                                                                                Muzika za oči

Odrednice izražajne forme umjetnosti su usmjerene ka određenim čulima poimanja; čulo vida, sluha i dodira. Ali, duša kada poima umjetnost, sve odrednice gube svoja pravila. Kako inače shvatiti stanje kad duša u prirodi vidi muziku?

Svi zvukovi su zatajili: monotono kloparanje vlaka, besmisleno blebetanje putnika, zvonjava telefona. Ostali su s druge strane membrane ušnoga bubnja, što odvaja bitno od nebitnog.

A ono bitno slilo se u slike predjela što promiču iza okna, oronulih u maglu, mraz i inje.

Bjelinu inja i magle zasjenči nešto, i na tren se ćud usplahiri pred nepoznatim. Samo na tren, jer već sljedećeg trenutka sjena se preobrazi u nepojmljivu ljepotu ovijenu milijardama ushićenja što ih izmami od zadivljenih pogleda.

Materhorn!

Sve suprotnosti spojio je u sebi: gorostasan i lijep, divlji i pitom, postojan i vitak. Sa nesagledivo dugim podnožjem ukorijenuo se u zemlju, sa špicastim vrhom zaparao oblak.

Kako nepojmljivo se ovdje čini gradska hektika i tisuće sitnih briga svakodnevnice.

Ovdje se vječnost uobličila da, u velelepnim planinama, planinskim poskocima, kanjonima i tajanstvenim pećinama, kristalno – zelenom bojom jezera i čistotom snježne bjeline, kroz čulo vida, nahrani ćud i prišapne duši. Da bi, izvan turobne svakodnevnice postojalo nešto veličanstveno, prema čemu se vrijedi uspravljati.

Ovdje se vječnost uobličila u simfoniju, za oči što vide.

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                                                                  Music for the Eyes    

Certain expressive forms of art are directed to a specific senses of the understanding, eyesight, sense of hearing and sense of touch. But, when the soul conceives art, all settings are losing their rules. How else to understand the state when the  soul in nature sees the music? 
  
All sounds are a failure; monotonous clattering of the train, pointless jabbering of the passengers, phone ringing. Others are on the other side of the mouth cone drum, which separates the substantially from the irrelevant ones. The substantially flew into the pictures of the landscape which passes behind panes, plunged in fog, frost and hoar. 
  
The whiteness of  hoar and fog tints something, and, for a moment, the mood flaster in front of the unknown. Just for a moment, because in the next moment the shadow is transformed into incomprehensible beauty wrapped  billions of raptures that have been elicited from the astonished look. 
  
Materhorn! 
  
All the opposition has combined within itself;  gigantic and beautiful, wild and tame, stable and slim. With unforeseeable long pedestal rooted  into the soil, and with a spiky tip cut into the cloud. 
  
How inconceivable here seems stress of the city and thousands of petty worries of everyday life. 
  
Here is an eternity that shaped the magnificent mountains, mountain jumps, canyons, and mysterious caves, crystal-green color of the lakes and charm: white of the snow, through the eyesight, feeding groove and  whisper to the soul. To have, outside of the dreary everyday life existence of something magnificent, which is valid back up. 
  
Here the eternity has been shaped into the symphony , the eyes that see. 


Haiku


Slike 

Snježne pahulje
bjelinom sve prekrile
plovim u snove.


Kedar pod sn'jegom-
kosmos kao da sniva
nova Stvaranja. 


Na horizontu
impresije svoje slika
majstor Sunce.


Purpurno nebo
kupa zlato žitnih polja
sjajem rubina


Kukolj u žitu,
sok  života mu sisa
i klicu hrani

Vôde

U tami mora
valovi ljuljaju iskre
zvjezdanog neba


Nebo u moru
zagrljaj u beskraju
more u nebu

 
Ljetna noć, čamac,
jedro, zvijezde, poljubac,
njiše povjetarac


Školjka u uhu
glas daljine priziva
rijeka pjeva


Pjesnik opisa
pjesmom «Modra rijeka»
sve tajne svijeta



Deltom Neretve
životu odu pjeva
Hercegovina



Žubor rijeka
alhimija stvaranja
ovozemaljska

Šaputanje duše 

U utrci se
sa beskrajem u meni
prelama vrijeme


I teku vode
prohujala stoljeća
a duša spava


Mudrost i snovi-
nova nada zorom rudi
duša se budi


Nebeska ljubav-
rijeka mog života
teče mimo nje


Strepi, jer ćuti
bol, previranja teška
duša slavenska


7.11.2012.

U nedjelju, 11.11. 2012. se u Cirihu (Švicarska) odvija književna manifestacija koju organizira "Zürcher Schriftsteller Verband" 
(Udruženje književnika Cirih). 


U toku cjelodnevnog trajanja ove manifestacije učestvuju dvije autorice 

Diogen pro kultura magazina: 
Nora Dubach i Samira Begman

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mammutlesung_2012.pdf
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7.11.2012.

On Sunday, 11.11.2012. in Zurich (Switzerland) will be held literary event organized by "Zürcher Schriftsteller Verband" (Association of writers Zurich).

During the manifestation, within the length of the whole day, will participate two authoress of 

DIOGEN pro culture magazine: 
Nora Dubach and Samira Begman

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Copyright © 2015  Peter Tase & Sabahudin Hadžialić
Design: Sabi / Autors & Sabahudin Hadžialić. Design LOGO - Stevo Basara. 
Freelance gl. i odg. urednik od / Freelance Editor in chief as of 2009: Sabahudin Hadžialić

All Rights Reserved. Publishers and owners: Peter Tase & Sabahudin Hadžialić
Whitefish Bay, WI, United States of America     

Diogen pro kultura magazin (Online)
ISSN 2296-0929

Diogen pro kultura magazin (Print)
ISSN 2296-0937


Library of Congress USA / Biblioteka - Knjižnica Kongresa SAD

Contact Editorial board E-mail: contact_editor@diogenpro.com;  
Narudžbe/Order: http://www.diogenpro.com/diogen-all-in-one.html
Pošta/Mail USA: Peter Tase, 5023 NORTH BERKELEY BLVD. WHITEFISH BAY, WI, 53217, USA
Pošta/Mail BiH: Sabahudin Hadžialić, Grbavička 32, 71000 Sarajevo i/ili Dr. Wagner 18/II, 70230 Bugojno, Bosna i Hercegovina  

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