Famous students of the Beran High School: A beautiful time of searching, verses and curiosity

Ivangrad had a literary, cultural, all-round climate. Everything flourished that year, factories, workers, life. New buildings were being built, the airport was functioning

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Gymnasium in Berane, Photo: Tufik Softić
Gymnasium in Berane, Photo: Tufik Softić
Disclaimer: The translations are mostly done through AI translator and might not be 100% accurate.

I have been dealing with the thought for a long time, and I often remember my friends - poets from Beranska - Ivangradska gymnasium. Their names, the time when we started our first literary works, the professors who taught and supported us...

However, in order to remember the poets from my generation, it is necessary to remember the great predecessors, who studied at this gymnasium and became great literary names in Montenegrin and then great Yugoslav literature. And those are: Mihailo Lalić, Radovan Zogović, Milovan Đilas, Radonja Vešović, Dušan Kostić, Husein Bašić, Radoslav Pajković, Miladin Ćulafić, Bogdan Šekler, Zuvdija Hodžić... well both Children, Vukovic i Vulević, Miloš Ostojić. I should mention Miomir Dašić, a famous historian, well Rajko Bogojevića, professor and writer. Branko Bogavac, a famous publicist. Slobodan Vuković, whose reports have, in addition to documentary, literary value.

These names and their works are enough for the literature of any nation, even a much larger one.

Then came the generations: Dragomir Ćulafić, Miomir Mišović, Svetislav Vlahović, especially talented ones Blagoje Korac. He was in the third and I was in the first high school, when he was my teacher Miloš Vulević, after showing him some of my songs, told me to call Korac, which I did with trepidation. Blagoje was already published in well-known Yugoslav newspapers, I remember the one in Zagreb The Blue Herald and Belgrade newspaper Mladost. It was a great honor then to publish works in them. Korać was the one and had that privilege. He read the complete daily and weekly press, followed sports. Loved it James Dean, wearing a leather jacket. Every day he read a book and wrote a poem. The rest are unpublished, except for the ones in the papers. He worked as a journalist in Sloboda, wrote wonderful reports... I owe him a special debt. He took me to Belgrade and Banja Luka. Thanks to him I saw the sea. The one that washes the shores of the Bar.

Generationally not very close to me, Vukota Babović i Branislav Boricic in gymnasium they wrote poems, then they went to science, the first in physics and the second in mathematics, they proved themselves as scientists. And somewhere other poets.

Among the notable students of the Beran High School, I cannot help but mention them Borislav Bor Lalića, the doyenne of Yugoslav journalism, when that journalism was at its zenith, and his brother Vojislav, long-time correspondents of the Yugoslav agency Tanjug, from major world metropolises. The work of the director should definitely be included in the top of those who have realized themselves in the best way as people and artists. Gojko Kastratović. A historian deserves a place at the top of this list Sherba Rastoder.

Thomas Mann in the Polim forests

Miladin Ćulafić published stories as a high school student and received fees for it. With a cousin Jezdimir Jezda Radenović (who lived in Paris until the end), published in Zagreb They take off and other literary magazines. Dale Ćulafić, whose book Late walkers was significant for me, he told me how Miladin copied novels into notebooks in a beautiful, almost calligraphic handwriting Thomas Mann. When, many years later, in a meeting during the Book Fair, and fascinated by that fact, I asked him:

"Miladin, is it true that you copied Thomas Mann into your notebooks?"

He looked at me seriously, maybe he thought it was a provocation, I referred to Dal, and Miladin answered.

"The truth is. Now you can understand how great a writer he is when I understood him in those forests and hills." Thinking of the environment in which, guarding the cattle, he copied the pages of the great writer.

I thought it important to record this true anecdote in this text.

Verses I memorized

In addition to the names I have already listed, he stood out in my generation Vlado Mihajlovic, who at that time won awards and published songs in the newspaper Borba, where there was a column reserved for young poets. He was maybe two years older than me. Even today, after more than half a century, the lines of his song live in my memory:

One bird flies through me,

My heart beats with wings.

In one eye I thirst for silence,

In another, the wind cries.

I slaughtered the most beautiful star,

Now the black lamb of the night is barking.

Bird that spends the night in someone else's nest,

Give me chirping hands to wash.

I don't know what later happened to Vlad, where he lived and whether he wrote, I remember this poem and present it to the readers.

There they are; Mišo Korać, Milo Petrović, Zdenka Milačić, the beauty Ivangrad was after. As far as I know, he lives in Canada today. Well Milenko Marsenić i Petar Rmus, I'm afraid I'm forgetting someone, so I apologize. Many years have passed. Half a century and more. Who will count the years? Who remembers everything and everyone? And they deserve to be remembered.

Writing this text, vistas widen, characters emerge, forgotten verses ring. Character Veljko Mijović, author of several novels and stories. Many have not been alive for a long time. I remembered Miroslav Đurović, which set the tone for literary life in those years, Ratko Deletić... Nova Šćekića, a forgotten but very talented prose writer. He didn't publish much, he died relatively young, but what he published is valuable.

The last time, and it was a long time ago, we met at the Beran bus station. A gentle face with disheveled hair. Talented New!

Ivangrad had a literary, cultural, all-round climate. Everything flourished that year, factories, workers, life. New buildings were being built, the airport was functioning. All that and much more happened in Ivangrad at that time.

"Sloboda" affirmed us

A newspaper was published fortnightly Freedom, in which there was a special column Freedom for the young. The editor was Radenko Smolović, he published us in that column. Seeing the works in that section was a big event for us. (I once showed my father, under a cherry tree in Prijevor, my small prose work published in Freedom. He was smiling with satisfaction. Me in the newspaper. It was significant for him!). Especially interesting and rich were the holiday numbers in which space was set aside for established poets, among whom the most important were Milo Boskovic, a personality around whom the intellectuals of the time gathered, not only from Beran, but from Rožaj, Bijelo Polje, Mojkovac, Podgorica... Bošković commanded respect with his appearance. He taught me Russian in high school. During class, he was constantly writing something down in a notebook that was on the chair. He wrote numerous poetic and prose works, on this occasion I draw attention to Psalms, a book of great poetry, no doubt. When it comes to Freedom and its editors, I would be doing an injustice if I did not mention its editor and poet Milorad Joksimović.

The indispensible Miloš Vulević, a large-format professor, whoever he taught to would love literature, well Slobo Dabetić, Maksim Lutovac, extraordinary personality, professor Slobodan Tomović, at that time a Ph.D. He was my class president in third and fourth grade. He knew everything. His worthy successor is his daughter Sonja Tomovic, one of the greatest intellectuals in Montenegro today, the author of numerous important scientific books, and an excellent poet.

It is inevitable to mention in this text Draška Došljaka, a distinguished intellectual and university professor, a scientist who contributed and continues to contribute to toponymy in the area of ​​Vasojević, reading the areas where our past and history lives.

I am returning again to the golden years, when poetry books were printed in Berane: Milo Bošković, Ratko Deletić, Veselin Bogavac, in the then printing house, where he worked Minjo Sekulić, who loved poets and poetry, and perhaps wrote himself.

He was in high school Literary club Vukajlo Kukalj, which announced an annual competition for literary works, motivating us to write. A rich school library led by Professor Vulević. And he knew which books to order, he followed everything that was happening in Yugoslav and world literature. Thanks to him, all capital and current books were available to us.

Then the book was also available to us Refuse dead Vidosav Stevanović, which was in the center of attention of the wider public.

Those were wonderful days, which brought something new, aroused curiosity, broadened horizons. We daydreamed that we would become great poets, that we would be known all over the world... After high school, everyone went his own way. Vlatko Radovanić sang then and that song came to me:

The flowers fell quietly to death,

Sick grass one wound.

We used to make love

And begged the dead to rise.

Once upon a time and summer someone,

And something that the song raves about.

Once down the river the heart flowed,

Ripe sun fell after the hill.

It rained once and it rained madly,

Blue and soft as pupils.

A pregnant apple whispered quietly

Birds were born from it at dawn...

...................................................

He was extraordinarily talented, later he went into the waters of economics. I don't know if he wrote? He died a few years ago. Let this small memorial revive the memory of all the living and those dead, whose dreams flicker over Lim, which flows incessantly, "blue as a dilated vein", as he wrote Marko Vesovic. It is that "cord of water in the valley", as Radonja Vešović saw it, titling one of his books.

Lim is flowing, and we are with him. The song remains. And the one that was sung and sung by who knows who, and remained as a folk song:

Remain the desire of my heart,

Next to Lim green.

... the wishes of the living, for the longest time those that did not come true.

Cedo Vuković's letter

And now something personal, perhaps worth noting. As a third grader, I dared to submit six poems to a magazine Creation, which was highly regarded, at the top of the Yugoslav literary periodical, and he edited it Cedo Vuković. After some time, I received a letter from the editor Vuković, who wrote to me that he would publish four poems in the March issue. I sent the songs in the fall, it took several months to wait. Long wait, oh those months. March was far away. But he came, and every day I looked at the porter's office where the mail for the students arrived. He worked at the porter's office Smajo, who announced the beginning and end of classes with the school bell. One day, among the mail, I saw a package with my name and surname. Creation. There was no end to the happiness. My hands were shaking as I opened it. I found the rubric Horizons, and in it four of my songs. A year later Happy Perovic will two represent in Anthologies of Montenegrin poetry of a decade - 1960-1970. I was the last and the youngest in that anthology. It was a great honor, my big start. During one meeting at the Plaža hotel in Herzegnov, I told Čed Vuković how much his support meant to me, the letter in which he instructed me to work and read a lot, get an education. The letter is written on half of the A-4 format. Back then, paper was saved. Lalić wrote the first versions of his novels on the back of some kind of assembly materials.

How I read Zogović

I was a third or fourth grader, now I'm not entirely sure. Russian language taught me Vlado Martinović, a close relative. He really liked the poetry of Radovan Zogović, so one day he offered me a book Articulated word, almost secretly, published in those years (1965). I didn't know anything about Zogović then. I admit that it was not easy for me, long drawn-out stanzas, dense tangles of language, new words, allegories, not really understandable for me. But I read, I felt the power and significance of that poetry.

Do you read - Vlado would ask me while passing between the desks in the classroom, but quietly. He usually spoke quietly.

I'm reading - I would answer, and I quietly, as if we were both hiding something. Some strange conspiracy.

And once he told me:

"Be careful, don't show it to anyone. They are chasing Radovan again." I didn't understand what kind of chases we were talking about. I only read Zogović as a high school student. And Vlado, as much as he loved him, wrote Zogović's poems in beautiful notebooks, in beautiful handwriting, and he wrote with a pen. When I told all this to Zogović, in the early eighties when I met him, he didn't comment, he just smiled. I figured he was glad.

And I have always loved his poetry, which is why I owe a great deal of gratitude to Vlad.

He introduced me to Zogović in Podgorica Jevrem Brković. An acquaintance that I consider an important event in my life.

Zogović is the first, war numbers Freedom, edited with Veselin Masleša, at the beginning of the war in 1941 on Mount Konjsko above Beran.

This is known, but it is not superfluous to remind you of it on this occasion. With the text I am ending, I wanted to remember the names, and I would need a lot of space to list the works of students of Beransko - Ivangradska Gymnasium.

The original idea was to write about the poets of my generation. Later I deviated from the original idea, the thought and the hand went in this direction.

When writing texts like this, there is always the possibility of forgetting someone. Draško Došljak, after reading the text, suggested that I enter some more names, so I do so. Here it is: Vojo Bubanja, Academician Vucina Šćekić, PhD Božina Radević, Professor Ljubo Bojović, Vuk Rašović, Vuk Ognjanović, Miško Stojanović, Ismet Krcić, Dobrašin Kićović, Dobrašin Jelić, Radmila Mudrinić, Blagoje Nišavić, Milan Cimbaljević, Mela Hadrović Murić, Radomir Stojanović, Safet Hadrović Vrbički, Miroslav Mikan Raičević... The list is probably not exhaustive. These are the golden generations. In the hope that someone will write to possibly unintentionally left out, but deserving students of this gymnasium, I am temporarily imprisoning him. And that means the possibility that it will be supplemented during the next publication.

I have not given myself the right to judge and rank who is great, nor to determine the order, but to remember and remind, with the thought that the unforgettable are not forgotten.

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