ŠTIRI REKE PARADIŽA SO SE ZVILE. THE FOUR RIVERS OF PARADISE ...
Meta Kušar trans. Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts
(from Slovenian)

Štiri reke paradiža so se zvile.
Nad hišo je udrto nebo.
Na njegovem svetlem robu Zevs
napenja strelo. Kristus
samo strmo gleda.
Hoče, da vzamem kelih iz Teodorinih rok.
Ne dovoli, da bi se mi na notesih nabiral led.
Poznam bitja, ki valijo hlad
in grobo, surovo snov norosti.
Mračne pohabe polepšamo s pogledom v oči.
Zastokajo kakor siti dojenčki na prsih.
A si kdo upa vzeti plašč, ki ga ponuja Elija?
Besede so, besede,
ki gorijo.

The four rivers of paradise have folded up.
The sky over the house is caved in.
On its bright rim Zeus
is bending a thunder-bolt. Christ
is just staring ahead.
He wants me to take the chalice from Theodora's hands.
He won't let frost gather on my notebooks.
I know those who roll the cold,
raw, uncouth material of madness.
Dark malformations are improved by being looked in the eye.
They whimper like babes sated at the breast.
Will anyone dare take the coat proffered by Elijah?
These are words, words.
And they burn.

Trans. Copyright © Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts 2010


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