Seven theses about Njegoš

1.

Rade Petrović from the village of Njeguši near Cetinje had the destiny to use the poetic device to summarize the peaks of the language of his ancestors who were mostly bright-eyed shepherds and eloquent prznicas. There can hardly be a dispute about it, which means that it must be persistently contested.

Only by breaking the stone fiddles that give meaningless phrases about Njegoš can the poet turn into a spark, and the spark into a fire, and the fire into a serious natural disaster in which we will gain Njegoš and lose Njegoševo's Montenegro.

Only from the ashes of Njegoševo Montenegro can raise a wonderful bishop. Only if we turn it upside down, God forbid, can we find out if there is any salvation for him, or if he really died at Čepikuć, as some scholars claim.

2.

By absolute agreement, Njegoš was praised as a genius, cast in bronze and lead syllable, forever to the honor of the political elites who will flaunt his legacy through quotes and non-working days. This will be done by linguistic science and the so-called the theory of literature, but as these bizarre activities were reduced to their marketable corpse and removed from the view of the decent world, Njegoš remained a mockery, to be torn apart by native poets with an oval castradine and a toasted plum in the middle of the temple crypt.

You will recognize them by their leather jackets and the aorist.

3.

What is called nation Njegoša learns by heart and keeps it in his cerebellum in case of war and internment. That little Njegoš, packed like an experimental frog in a jar, shows himself to the children and pricks himself with needles in certain points from which he always reacts in the same way. This is how the material is determined, poetry is biologically specified and the door to fascism is opened. Stab Njegoš in the Kosovar knee, he'll go in the direction of Prizren with a knife. Press the tip of the needle on his passport, he will exclaim E viva and strangle the three governors!

4.

I use Njegošdan to present my project Hyperwork 2.0. as a way to valorize the poet and evaluate the impact of new technologies on the vernacular through software.

The first stage is to leave parts of Luča microcosm to the depths of Google Translate. By entering verses and constantly changing them through language filters (for example, Samoan-Hungarian-Buntu-Corsican), verse deviations are obtained that change not only the linguistic essence, but also introduce a new artificial creator.

The new poetry generator will be readable because it takes a well-known text as its starting point. Paradoxically, flaws in the translation, caused by the imperfection of the software, create astonishment and shape the poetics of the new programming language that is close to us, since it partially preserved the structure of the imported reading. In a word, what we don't have the guts for, which is a new reading of Njegoš - let the machine do it for us.

We all know Njegošev's old saying that poetry is what gets lost in translation. Well, here poetry would be what you get in translation.

Example: Azerbaijani-Kinyarwanda-Swahili-Catalan-Bosnian translation of verses 20-30, dedication to the Light of Microcosm:

A man appears under a dark sky -

is there a premium here both ways?

Do you have a crib here?

Yes, the world is a creative place

for you

take the prize of your nose and your time

Boo, child of spiritual joy?

Ah, great lord

no terrible wind -

water flows from river to river.

5.

Through the proposed practice, Njegoš gets an android counterpart, a computer-generated double, which is the tip of the iceberg of a change that has been happening in our language for a long time.

If, for example, we were to consistently translate the English names of Podgorica neighborhoods, we would get a language with a very strange expression. Aside from the fact that all these "city districts" and "central points" are more like Transcaucasian experiments of union housing and that they do not reflect the essence of what is called luxury in the West, they linguistically imitate the West and introduce a new linguistic reality based on the violent penetration of capital and English. Alas, it is too late for backward translations, foreign neighborhood names have already become part of spoken polyphony, and any linguistic purity would resemble Google translations of Njegoš.

(I don't know exactly what the above is for, but I don't worry, because I don't know what the CANU panel on the occasion of the 175th anniversary of the printing of Njegoš's work was for either.)

6.

Let's finally move on to brighter topics. The deceased was a great poet of love verses, among which we highlight:

I play with her apples - two happy worlds are worth,

to the whistling of the immortal lichen of happiness;

Let's forget it waxing i lucky fox, there is no need to dig like worms through the flabby tissue of diachrony when we already have the sails of delicious poetic images. The poet pays tribute to apples! He does it from the episcopal throne, loudly advocating the relaxation of the body, and not vain family values ​​as a reason for childbirth and liturgy.

Njegoš, in the song "Noć spruja vijeka", is the first among the South Slavs to sing a one-night stand combination. The irresponsible indulgence of passions makes this monk somehow ontologically important. He chooses fetish apples for sober measure, so sharpener number 2, which means he's special small tits, the English would say, and showed the whole world how a god-pleaser can and can make the world more beautiful with erotic fantasy.

7.

Let the conclusion be somewhat boring, because that's what happens with reading material. So, at least two factions parasitize Njegoš, one that turns him into a church idol and the other that takes a contrary ideological position with mere blasphemy and reaps the fruits of occasional para-literary scandals.

In fact, both approaches are overcome, Njegoš must be freed from any tribal and socio-political responsibility for his poetic and chivalrous actions. Radivoje is not what they say, neither a mummy nor a sarcophagus, the real readers are not subjects, but mountain wolves and angry feminists who will pursue his father-in-law until doomsday.

Who knows, maybe new readers should start this bright endeavor from the immortal truth that the genius expressed through the character of Pop Mić in Mountain wreath, which reads:

... um ... dam ... am ...

... would ... well ... but ...

... na ... sha ... ra ...