E-POŠTA E-MAIL
Gregor Podlogar trans. Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts (from Slovene)
Mogoče sem ti že pisal.
Ćedalje težje ločujem
med..........tem
kaj sanjam kaj pišem
kaj sem mislil storiti
kaj sem storil na kateri ravni
se kaj dogaja in zdaj plošča
s fotko Davida Oistracha na naslovnici
...........preskakuje.
Je kaj nujnega? Kaj je novega?
Ne mislim, da je res kaj.
Ćasopise sem (spotoma) zavrgel,
.......predal zgodovine je zaprt.
..............Ljubljana
..............sije sonce.
..............Se spomniš,
frišen na biciklu v snegu je človek,
.................ko je mlad.
Tukaj je Malevič najboljši.
Tudi Joe Wenderoth
.......ki ga zdaj berem
zadovoljno brunda
............................in je v Wendy's.
Glasba. Glasba. Tišina. Glasba.
Tukaj je prostor, razlagam,
tukaj hrup..............hrup
prepariran klavir,
.........................ropotuljica v ozadju,
Raudivejev glas o glasovih mrtvih
se tihotapi skozi zvočnike na
..........................................ta svet.
Spet sem pozen, bolje bo, da neham.
Kjer koli sem, še do ponedeljka,
potem imam veliko dela,
...................ne pozabi,
pošlji Mustarjevo številko GSM-a,
.........ampak ne striparja,
Romuna, ki ni Romun,
ej, pa pozdravi Cărtărescuja.
.........Cel svet me zabava.
Včasih ljubezen ugasne.
Konec ljubezni,
.......................konec filma.
In s tem ni nič narobe.
Ne postavljam vprašajev,
.....ker jih ne najdem.
Ampak se razume, kajne.
Ni drugih golobov v mestu.
In ta film moram videt,
moja ura na mobiju kaže že 12:47,
verjetno pa je
..........................................12:20.
In Ljubljana sije v soncu.
In ljudje so tukaj odvisni od ljudi
....vremena
..................in svetlobe,
......ki jo danes jem za zajtrk.
I may have already written to you.
I find it more and more difficult to distinguish
between..........what
I dream & I write
what I intended to do
what I did on what level
things are happening and now the record
with the photo of David Oistrakh on the front
..........................is snagging on one spot
Anything urgent? Anything new?
I don't really think there is
so I threw out the newspapers in the end
.......the drawer of history is closed shut.
..............Ljubljanas suns
..............shining.
..............Do you recall,
green on a bike is a child
.................of the snow,
Malevich is at his best here.
And Joe Wenderoth,
......who I'm reading now,
is humming happily,
............................ & eats in at Wendy's.
Music. Music. Silence. Music.
There's space here, I'm explaining,
Noise here ..............noise
pre-programmed piano,
..................................rattle in the background,
Raudives voice about voices of the dead
stealing his way through the loudspeakers into
...........................................................this world.
I'm running late again, it's better that I stop.
Wherever I am, only until Monday,
then I have a lot to do
.................mustn't forget
to send Mustar's cell-phone number,
............not Mustar the cartoonist,
the Romanian who isn't Romanian,
hey, send hellos to Cartarescu.
......I'm having fun with the world.
Sometimes love just goes out.
The end of love,
.........................the end of that film.
And there's nothing wrong with that.
I'm not asking questions,
.......because I can't find any.
But it's understood, right.
There are no more pigeons in town.
And I have to see that film,
The time on my mobile already shows 12:47,
but it's more like
.........................................................12:20.
And Ljubljanas glowing in the sun.
And people here are dependent on people
.....the weather
.......................and light,
........which I'm eating today for breakfast.

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


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