DVAJSETI AVGUST THE TWENTIETH OF AUGUST
Gregor Podlogar trans. Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts
(from Slovene)
Danes je tihi ponedeljek.
Stebri megle potujejo z ljudmi slabe volje.
Stene pisarn z njimi dihajo isti zrak,
ista obutja, mislijo iste misli.

Danes sem z vsemi stvarmi kot otrok.
e vedno piem s svinnikom,
e vedno divjam s kolesom,
da bi za hip ubeal ivljenju.

Danes razumem, da se je stoletje zaprlo
kot pokrov kanalizacije. Novice so prazne.
Ljudje niso pametneji. Politika ne bo umrla.
Za nami ne bo ostalo niesar, razen blebetanja.

Danes so delavci spet razkopali cesto.
Zdi se, da iejo zlato. Velika votlina,
ki so jo izdolbli v gramoz, je podobna
vhodu v jamo iz kamene dobe. Kakno veselje.
Today is a quiet Monday.
Pillars of fog are congealed on sullen folk.
Office walls breathe in the same air,
the same feelings, the same thoughts.

Today I am like a child.
I still write with a pencil,
still zoom round on my bike, still try
to get away, if only for a moment.

Today I understand the century's been slammed
shut like a sewer. The news is totally hollow.
People getting no wiser. Politics won't go away.
And nothing will survive us but the babble.

Today workers have been digging up the road again.
Heh! They must be searching for gold. The big hole
they've dug out in the gravel looks like
an entrance to a stone-age cave. Wow!

Copyright © Gregor Podlogar; trans. copyright © Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts


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