‘I REFUSED MILOŠEVIĆ'S OFFER AND WAS PUNISHED FOR IT’ Pero Zubac on Poetry, 1990s: ‘For Five Years, I Was Unable to Publish a Book’

This October will mark exactly sixty years since Pero Zubac published Mostar Rains, a poem that quickly became an anthology classic. It has been translated into English, Russian, Italian, French, Polish, Czech, Hungarian, Romanian, Ruthenian, Macedonian, and Slovenian, as well as partially into Swedish and Albanian. In the former USSR, it was published in the elite magazine Rabotnica, with a print run of 19,750,000 copies.

In an interview with Kurir, Zubac opened his heart, reminiscing about his friendship with Mika Antić, their poetic and boxing encounters, as well as the creation of his greatest poem.
"I never forced my sons, Vladimir and Miloš, to become artists. One chose photography, the other poetry. Now, I travel with Miloš wherever we are invited. Our ensemble is unique because they only sing poetry. People call us 'Grandpa and the Band,'" Zubac says with a smile at the beginning of the conversation.

You broke the Ice with poetry evenings in Belgrade…

"The Serbian Writers’ Association organised something similar before. I broke the ice with 'Four Classics of Serbian Literature'. The venue at 7 Mala Francuska is too small to hold the audience. Recently, Ljubivoje Ršumović, Matija Bećković, Dušan Kovačević, and I returned from Prijedor and Banja Luka. It was incredibly pleasant there. We've been friends for 50 years. We spent three nights together at poetry evenings. You can't imagine the anecdotes that come up. Duško remembered the time he, as a young writer, came to see Antić and me. It would have been wonderful if someone had recorded that."

What do you talk about at these evenings?

"About friends who are no longer with us."

Who most Influenced you as a poet?

"Miroslav Antić was the key figure in my life. A cosmic umbrella covering everything. I was friends with Mika for 25 years, and not a single day with him was wasted. I feared nothing. We were both boxers, so we sometimes even fought in cafes. But he was a caring older brother. We had an agreement that when we travelled, one of us would drink, and the other would not."

And who drew the short straw?

"It was fair. He would drink in Zagreb, and I got Knić. He used to tell me, 'You got lucky because there are beautiful teachers there.'"

Which writers do you socialise with?

"I spend time with my generation, but I also enjoy being around young people. My best friend was Duško Trifunović, but he is no longer with us. I try to help younger poets, but I don’t give advice. I am not a professor of literature. No one ever advised me on writing—only on life."

What is the best life advice you have ever received?

"To separate the important from the unimportant."

I have to ask about your poem Mostar Rains. Is it true that you shortened it because you ran out of paper?

"Post offices used to close at noon, and I had to submit the poem. I typed it directly on the typewriter in a single copy because I couldn’t find any carbon paper. I sent it by post to the editor of Zagreb’s Telegram, for the New Names section. If that letter hadn’t reached Zagreb, Mostar Rains would never have existed."

Did you know it would become such a famous poem?

"I didn’t want to include it in my first poetry collection. It seemed to me like youthful enthusiasm, and I felt it didn’t fit. The late Dr Draško Ređep refused to publish my book without that poem. In the end, it was printed on black paper with white letters. My professor knew what kind of poem it was."

Are you writing an autobiography?

"I have no intention of writing one."

Is it true that one of your poetry collections was published in only one copy?

"My son Miloš managed to save Hazarian Poems from being forgotten. They can now be found online. He discovered the collection in a display case and asked me why it wasn’t included in my biography. There’s an interesting story behind it, from the time of the famous Yoghurt Revolution. There were no mobile phones back then. Around nine in the evening, the third highest-ranking person in the country knocked on my door with a very direct and respectful offer. I never mention names, but the first man in power at the time was Slobodan Milošević. We talked for a long time, but I refused. Politics never interested me. As a result, I was punished — I wasn’t able to publish a new book for five years. That’s when I wrote Hazarian Poems, but no one dared to publish it. The reviewers of that collection were Nikola Milošević and Dragoš Kalajić. "No wonder that book was never published, considering who the reviewers were," my son Miloš once told me."

How was it finally published?

"There were two independent publishers in Belgrade at the time. I took it to one of them, Tika, but months passed without it going to print. I found out where the printing house was and went straight to the chief of police. By chance, he had been under my command during a labour action. He was delighted to see me. Three days later, the book arrived at my home, and that’s how it was preserved."

Mika Antić Ate Acacia Flowers to Impress a Teacher

There are many anecdotes about those literary evenings in schools. They say you were quite good at charming teachers...

"There’s a funny story about Mika Antić. We were together in Gospođinci. There was a dinner, but one of the teachers had to leave early. Mika went to walk her home. When he returned, he told us what had happened. He said: 'I was trying to convince her to let me into the house, but she kept resisting, saying, "Don’t, this is a small town." He didn’t even get to have a coffee. Mika then threatened that he would eat an entire acacia tree by the roadside if she didn’t let him in. And in the end, he actually did it—he stuffed himself with acacia flowers and dirt!"