Gradimir Gojer is a Bosnian theater director, writer and actor who was born in Mostar, in 1951. He studied and earned a degree in directing and literature from the University of Sarajevo. He has directed in some of the largest Bosnian theaters and many of the regional ones, such as in Belgrade, Serbia; Bitola, Macedonia and Split, Croatia.

He has received a number of awards at various international theater festivals and served as vice president of the Social Democratic Party of Bosnia and Herzegovina. During the Siege of Sarajevo (1992–1996), he remained in the city and continued working prolifically in the theater scene. He worked for the organization of the Sarajevo War Theater in addition to serving as a director and art manager of Kamerni Theatre 55. He was also a minister in the Bosnian government and recipient of the International Peace Center award for his artistic accomplishments.

JORDAN SHIFTS THE SLOEŠTICA   Never did Hemingway over open seas Both conquered and unconquerable, Nor did Gundulić on the azure Adriatic, Shift the water’s flux, channel the roar And its flow into a concordant sequence Never in their lifetimes did they so prevail Yet Jordan reined in the meek Sloeštica, Birth canal water, life water, received Beneath the bridge by histrionic call. The poet shifted, displaced The watercourse to the infinity of Paradise, From the bridge winged a shriek of pain And a victory versa over the bewilderment of the world, With the unseeing of the powerful, the frailty of the weak. Jordan shifted the Sloeštica, drawing Its sacredness, its course into the flow, budging the flame of celestitude

Dedicated to Jordan Plevneš and his brother, the late Vlada Cvetanovski, with gratitude for introducing him to the Sloeštica River

A LETTER TO SHERSHENOVICH   In a little flask, liquid That might embitter life; In the wood stove crackle the last Of news printed in a month Which passed long ago; long ago, When everything was different, Slow, like a cat which Purrs in the corner of the room and returns Films of its own wanderings. I write you a letter with unsure Hand, sure that it goes off Into uncertainty and dreams

Forgotten in a marvelous grace.

I write to the last of the caste
Of passion, I write I am tired and, At a late hour and early in the Century, I write and doubt Where I’ll be off to come morning: Into infinity or that realm, Known so well to you. I write quite unsure Of my own catalogue of pictures, Of the realm which arrives unannounced, To my experience entirely unknown

And in a marvelous grace immersed.

A WOMAN AMID MONDRIAN’S CUBES   Red, white, blue, yellow, Endures Mondrian’s kaleidoscope, And in its midst a woman with white hair, A wondrous fay-like woman.   I dream this horizon of Mondrian’s, With the woman with white hair, When waking and sleeping, all the time. It catches me, too, in dread insomnia.   Red, white, blue, yellow. The kaleidoscope spreads across the world, And the woman with white hair from thought

No way can she, never can she, exit.

Translated by Ellen-Elias Bursać

From the book: Gradimir Gojer Svjetline Laništa, Gariwo, 2018.

(Lanette’s Radiances)