Mira Mataric on Poets Cafe

The following interview of Mira Mataric by Lois P. Jones originally aired on KPFK Los Angeles (reproduced with permission). Produced by Marlena Bond.
www.kpfk.org/programs/103-poetscafe.html

Biographical Information—Maria Mataric

Dr. Mira N. Mataric was born and raised in Serbia. She earned her Master’s and a Ph. D. degrees as well as the specialization in Special Education at the European and American universities.

Mira spent her best years teaching English, Creative Writing and Russian, all along actively publishing her poetry, prose and translations. She has 34 published books (bilingually) and countless citations in other publications. She traveled extensively on five continents. Her poetry has been internationally awarded numerous times, her work translated in foreign languages and included in numerous anthologies. She has been an active interpreter at international symposiums in Rome, Hamburg, Dubrovnik, and a very prolific translator over 50 years.

In the USA since 1981, Mira was the president of the Women in the Arts, Inc. and editing a literary magazine Collage (19 years). Aside from public speaking, she volunteers with senior citizens, physically impaired and numerous cultural, educational and charitable organizations. Presently teaching Creative Writing and leading writing workshops, organizing literary gatherings, while regularly contributing to numerous publications in the USA and Europe.

Recent books:

Love Affair With Life, Light and Shadow, Dreams and Awakening, Bitter-Sweet Memories, The Legacy, Seasons of Love. Mira can be reached at mira016@hotmail.com Her Web page: miramataric.net

Belgrade in the Rain

The rain has caught me
in the city that once was mine
everyone rushing for shelter
only I
stay absorbing scents and sounds
memories of showers past
luxurious chestnuts, lilacs in bloom
two rivers embracing below Kalimegdan
odor of fish and sand
scraps of thoughts and laugh
of some new people
in the city which still is mine
but I may not be his.

During the night I wake
in a home built
by someone else’s sleepless nights
the pulse of whom blends
into the fabric of my life
this endless roaming
with thirst to return
leaving a part of me each time
taking with me my only luggage
the knowledge
I will return.

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