Ana Seferovic

(photo : Tatjana Suskic)







Softened soil, sparkling and gold.

Phosphorescent green leaves and grass.

Scent of the plants seduces  geometry of  the inner organs,

not allowing it to establish it’s  dictatorship.

Mesmerized villagers would sigh:  Oh what a lovely  spring!

She was thinking too: What a  joy!


And just a month ago the roof  was crunching under the weight

Of snow and lonely, very dark nights.


Snow glittered by moonlight

hills blinking with  silver shine.

Warmth of the house silently facing the fact that

Behind these walls, there is nothing

Just wilderness.

And wilderness is something that does not belong to humans.


Like all men do, her husband as well, went to a town to work.

Women are waiting and looking after children.


Sometimes an animal or a bird would let a voice or make a noise.

Movements of shadows multiplied by the misleading  and convincing force

of the moon.

Once just before the dawn, her child whispered to her: Mummy, mummy look!

In the corner of the room, two mice were dancing holding eachother by the paws, making small steps to the left and to the right and then round and round and the left and back and forward.


She shuddered thinking about situations and events which are not caused by decision or even mistake and looked through the window: the snowing started again, quick and tick snow.


The next day somebody knocked at the big, heavy wooden door and from the snow curtain emerged a face of a man.


The child asked: Who is this man?


Your father, my child

Now he is gone again. 


But now the nice weather is making things easier.


Enjoying in the sun,

she can recognize each individual plant and

insects’ paths are very clear.


Deeper layers of solitude.


The new war hasn’t arrived yet, the old war hasn’t disappeared yet, to these ladscapes too far away and padded up in high mountains.


Bathed in pleasant heat and evaporation of the vegetation, eyes half open,

It could have been felt that something was coming, but at this moment

There is still enough time before the events that

Will divide life of the people in before and after.

(hills under the snow and dark trees, one week not shaved beard-that is how the landscape looks like. he didn’t shave his beard nor cut his hear for forthy days*)


This day is going to be too long

She felt that from the dawn,

and decided to visit her parents who lived

on the other side of the mountain.


The path passes trough the big wood.

The young do not care about old women’s stories

About animals and humans

About dark needs and creatures

About those poor souls who saw naked self-happening of the world

that changed their god given destiny.


She was young and strong.

So she went

Through juicy grass holding her child.


Sky was so blue, so big, so close and full of insects and birds.


(we think that he killed the cat. he is saying that the cat knew all. that the cat had a premonition. he is pretending that he doesn’t know anything about it. like the cat escaped because she eas eating so much that she become ungrateful and went to find something better. and he is alluring the cat all the time and he is talking about it all the time. He knows that he is annoying, he is waiting for the motive. we are silent and we can hardly wait for him to go out.)


The wood is becoming older.

Light sprout bushes

started to be replaced with

old big trees

and grass

with bronze dead leaves:

crumbling under the feet.


Instead of cheerful birds some strange birds

were singing in different voices.


The sky is yellow and low.

Tufts of fog winding among the trees.


Drops of moisture caught in spiders’ webs

Like diamond jewels thrown away across the wood.


(he is outside shouting at goats and throwing snow at chickens. he is old and slow. something is dropping on our heads. Meet hung on hooks is drying and fat is drooping down on the floor or on the hair. we think we hate him. feet are constantly cold in the rubber boots. in the afternoon  I was going for a brutal walk because I ate more bread than I should have.)


It is much darker now.


Half opened mushrooms whiting on the ground.


There were no insects.

The different birds were announcing their presence

shrieking in half-human voices.


The river was lauder as she was approaching it.


In spite all the scary stories she felt close to this wood and this river.

Every time she would passing through

She would wet her hands and face and drink some of the water.

Then she would close her eyes and think about things

That she was wishing for, and for each wish

She would throw one pebble over her head back into the water.

(then we were sunbathing leaned on a rock not covered by the snow. eyes are closed-geometrical shapes and colours of the sun and the snow and that could last forever. at that moment we were fond of him and we felt sorry for him. mother said: on the other hand I do understend him, since she is gone, there is nobody there to serve him, his world is terrifyingly different.)


She closed her eyes, made a wish,

and throw a pebble over her head into the water.

She smiled opened her eyes and


It appeared to her that she saw somebody a little bit further down in the wood.


No it is nobody.

Here, now there is nothing

just a patchwork made from light and shadows.


She closed her eyes again,

changed her wish holding tightly her child

and throw the pebble, opened her eyes….


Yes! Definitely somebody is hiding behind that tree.


The only visitors around here are bit lost peasants or hunters

and they are not dresses up like this.

And they don’t hide!

They would say good afternoon and keep on with their business.


was more scaring than all the stories she have ever heard!


A man in a suit and a hat  in this wilderness,

was more scaring than all the stories she have ever heard.


The border is close.


She knew well that when somebody desert the usual path or is persistent to expose something that is hidden

That individual becomes involved in horrifying course of events.

That somebody is being pushed directly on the front line where forces

which are forming our universe

are weighting up their strength.


There a person is just a mouse dancing silent dance, on the music that somebody else hears.



She will pretend that she didn’t see him.


Slopes  under the fresh green moss

Musky smell of the wood


Don’t worry he wouldn’t harm us, she was whispering to the child cheering up herself as they were getting closer and closer.


The forest path was leading to the tree, if she leaves the path, he would know thet she saw him.


The stranger in the hat was moving slowly around the tree as she was approaching through the path semi turning around the tree.


One her step ahead


One his step behind


One her step ahead


One his step behind


She was pretending that she wasn’t watching but she could see by the corner of her eye his movements around the tree.


He knew that he was seen.


And she knew that he knows, he wasn’t completely hidden.


They were just following the rules of this weird game:


You are like hidden, I am like not seeing you.


I am like hidden, you like not seeing me.


I will not hurt you as long as you are clearly showing that you are not interested in what am I doing here.


They were there forever, the time was frozen.


Yellow changed sky, without insects and birds.


Steady sound of the river.


She could see clearly turquoise lichen on the rocks and tiny fractures in the bark of the trees and fast ants going up and down.

Rustling of the dry leaves was unpleasant and too loud.


I   a m   l i k e   n o t   s e e i n g   y o u ,   y o u     a r e   l i k e   h i d d e n

I   a m   l i k e   h i d d e n ,   y o u   a r e   l i k e   n o t   s e e i n g   m e


Don’t worry we are almost out of the wood just a minute or two

She was shispering to the child.


Drops of moisture were unhurriedly sliding down the plants


And drops of her sweat down her face.


The child was asleep in her arms.


(maybe he didn’t kill the cat, after all, look there in the snow, those are cat’s footsteps.)





*a custom not to shave beard or cut hair for 40 days when a member of a family dies.










Ana   Seferović       


Graduated Oriental languages at Belgrade University.


Published books:

Duboki continent  (Matica Srpska, 2000)

Beskrajna zabava (Narodna Knjiga, 2004).

Zvezda od prah secera (2012, Pancevo Writers Association)


Co-author of anthologies:

Discursive bodies of poetry   (AŽIN, 2004),

Tragom roda smisao angažovanja (DEVE, 2006)

24/7 tragom ljubavi (DEVE, 2007).

11 9 / Web Streaming Poetry (Auropolis, 2010)



Co-author of plays :

Diskretne žene, dekorativno dete, danska doga, (Scena, 2008)

Plovidba ( played on Sterijino pozorje festival, directed by Atila Antal, 2009).



Published in many magazines and anthologies shuch as:

ProFemina, Letopis Matice Srpske, Književni Magazin, Beogradski Književni list, Treci Trg, Ha!Art (Poljska), Portret (Poljska), Libra Libera (Hrvatska), Apokalipsa (Slovenija), LitKon, Diwan (Bosna), Kakanien (Nemacka), Pobocza (Poljska), Krasnojarskoje Voskresenije (Rusija), Polja, Kvartal, Povelja, Agon, Reč u prostoru, Anthology of women writing edited by  Cecile Oumhani, (France).


At the moment: 

Co-editor of (within Auropolis Art organisation ), one of three editors-in-chief of the long term Web streaming poetry project (11 9 / Web Streaming Poetry, anthology is part of it). Author and presenter of radio show&art platform  ( )


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