Simic (69) je 15. pjesnik nagrađen laskavom titulom američkog pjesničkog laureata koju Kongresna knjižnica dodjeljuje od 1985. godine, a nosili su je pjesnici poput Roberta Lowella, Elizabeth Bishop, Williama Carlosa Williamsa i Roberta Frosta.
Simic, rođeni Beograđanin, u SAD je došao sa 16 godina, a prve je radove objavio u Chicago Review-u, 1959. kad mu je bila 21. Odonda je objavio dvadesetak zbirki poezije, nekoliko zbirki eseja, brojne prijevode francuskih, srpskih, hrvatskih, makedonskih i slovenskih pjesnika te knjigu memoara po imenu A Fly in the Soup.
Uz titulu, Američka akademija pjesniku je dodijelila novčanu nagradu Wallace Stevens u iznosu od 100.000$ koje Simic planira staviti u banku. Nagradu šaljivo komentira: "Sada mi samo preostaje slomiti nogu. Dosad sam imao previše sreće."
Uistinu, Simicu su zadnjih godina zvijezde naklonjene. Osamdesetih je dobio stipendiju od 500.000$ Zaklade MacArthur u kategoriji 'genija', a 1990. godine nagrađen je Pulitzerom za zbirku pjesama u prozi The World Doesn't End.
Osim što predaje književnost i kreativno pisanje na Sveučištu New Hampshire, piše za New York Review of Books, a zajedno s Meghan O'Rourke uređuje rubriku poezije u časopisu Paris Review.
Sljedeće godine izlazi mu nova zbirka poezije That Little Something.
Paradise Motel
Millions were dead; everybody was innocent.
I stayed in my room. The President
Spoke of war as of a magic love potion.
My eyes were opened in astonishment.
In a mirror my face appeared to me
Like a twice-canceled postage stamp.
I lived well, but life was awful.
there were so many soldiers that day,
So many refugees crowding the roads.
Naturally, they all vanished
With a touch of the hand.
History licked the corners of its bloody mouth.
On the pay channel, a man and a woman
Were trading hungry kisses and tearing off
Each other's clothes while I looked on
With the sound off and the room dark
Except for the screen where the color
Had too much red in it, too much pink.
Charles Simic
