| CAMUS | CAMUS |
| Tomaž Šalamun | trans. Joshua Beckman & the poet |
Pročelje hiše. To je veliko pročelje hiše. Zavrel je prelet. Bo prah, ki gre pod kožo, zvozil? Primi se za človeški glas. Obokaj deblo mesa. Primi se za človeški glas. Črno pleza po nohtih in grabi mamo. Poljubi, ki ga sovražiš, Descartesa. Oblepi mu peniciline okrog prstov. Kot kaktus gojzarja. Kot beli slon, ki gre naprej. Ne trgaj korenin. Prosi za skromnost in tihost in zemeljskost. Pašček. Ti si moj pašček. Komaj držiš. Komaj se lahko upiram zelji, da bi te čisto strgal. Oblij se z bencinom in požarom. Pojdi v kasarno maršala Tita, na hodnik, kjer si stražil, v umivalnico, ki si vanjo zahajal - korito za prašiče okrog in okrog - ki si vanj vlival bencin, prižgal vžigalico, gledal, kako je ogenj planil v četverokotnik, da si se pomiril. | Front of the house. Big front of the house. The flight started to boil. Will the dust getting under the skin make it? Take hold of the human voice. Build the arch above the trunk of flesh. Take hold of the human voice. Black climbs the nails and grabs my mother. Kiss Descartes whom you detest. Glue penicillin to his fingers as to the cacti of cleated boots. As to the white elephant, going on. Don't pluck roots. Pray for modesty and stillness and earthliness. A little belt. You're my little belt. You hardly hold out. I hardly resist my desire to tear you apart completely. Drench yourself all over with gasoline and conflagration. Go to the barracks of Marshal Tito, to the corridor where you were on guard, to the lavatory you used - as if for pigs, the trough all around - into which you poured gasoline, lit the match, watched the fire leap into a quadrangle, to calm you down. |
Copyright © Tomaz Salamun 2006; trans. copyright © Joshua Beckman & Tomaz Salamun 2006
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