i catch your fire sometimes for a moment in my palms.

Four new poems by Slovenian poet Tone Škrjanec, translated by Ana Pepelnik and Matthew Rohrer.

ženske

by Tone Škrjanec

one še vedno spijo boli jih grlo ker so

prehlajene in želijo si še in še souvlakija

(in še enega prosim) stiska jih pri srcu

ko zapuščajo mesta ki jih imajo rade

(kot vse nas) njih včasih bolijo ledvica preklinjajo

in so tečne zelo jih boli ob njihovih

cikličnih mesečnih krvavitvah nikoli

nimajo pleše razigrane so in plešoče

grizejo si prste in ustnice imajo slabe

živce temnosivorjavo barvo kože poleti

nosijo japonke in šotor imajo zelo malo

denarja preklinjajo kot furmanski konji

pijejo ouzo da jih meče po tleh preganjajo

muhe z noge ubijajo komarje in rojevajo otroke.

Women

by Tone Škrjanec

they are still asleep their throats are sore because

they have a cold and they want more and more souvlaki

(and another one please) their hearts ache

when they leave places they love

(like all of ours) their kidneys sometimes hurt they swear

and they are grumpy it hurts them bad when they have

their monthly periods they never

go bald they are playful and dancing

biting their fingers and lips they have bad

nerves darkgreybrown color of skin in the summer

they wear flip-flops and a tent they have very

little money they swear like sailors

they drink ouzo until they roll on the floor they chase

off flies from their legs they kill mosquitoes and give birth. 

translated from Slovenian by Ana Pepelnik & Matthew Rohrer
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[zagotovo vem, da naju bo]

by Tone Škrjanec

zagotovo vem, da naju bo

nekega dne z zemlje odnesel

nenaden, tih piš vetra.

izginila bova v razkošni,

pisani spirali

skrivnostni kot znak,

ki prikliče ptice v afriko,

ki daje jelenom

moč

in

rogovje.

[i know for sure that one day]

by Tone Škrjanec

i know for sure that one day

we’ll be carried off the earth

by sudden, silent blast of wind.

we’ll disappear in a fancy

multi colored spiral

mysterious like a signal

calling birds to Africa,

giving deer

their strength

and

antlers.

translated from Slovenian by Ana Pepelnik & Matthew Rohrer
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[srne so gozdne živali.]

by Tone Škrjanec

srne so gozdne živali.

kadar so preplašene,

kadar ne skakljajo razposajene po gozdu,

skozi široko razprte nozdrvi

neslišno goltajo globoke curke zraka.

med drevjem stojijo negibno.

nalahno drhtijo

(kot recimo listje v plahem vetru)

že nenaden šum suhega listja zadostuje,

da se spremenijo v negibno staro drevo,

po čigar gladkem, srebrnemu hrbtu

se spuščajo v mah deževne kaplje.

oči imajo odprte kot jezero.

v katerem se odseva zeleno.

v njihovih najglobjih globinah

rastejo ribe.

[deer are wood animals.]

by Tone Škrjanec

deer are wood animals.

whenever they’re scared,

whenever they’re not hopping around the woods,

they soundlessly gobble deep surges of air

through wide opened nostrils.

they stand still among trees.

softly they shiver

(like leaves in timid wind, for example)

yet a sudden rustle of dried leaves is enough for them

to change into motionless old tree,

from its smooth silver back

raindrops are descending on moss.

their eyes are open like a lake.

reflecting green.

fish are growing

in their deepest depths.

translated from Slovenian by Ana Pepelnik & Matthew Rohrer
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[noč je topla. diši po kuhanem zelju in krizii.]

by Tone Škrjanec

noč je topla. diši po kuhanem zelju in krizii.

golo stopalo obotavljajoče podrsava po preprogi.

cannabis je iščoč sonce svoje male liste pripil

k oknu kot to počno radovedni otroci. ptica,

tista posebna, z rumenim trebuščkom je sedla

na okensko polico. tvoj ogenj le včasih za trenutek

ujamem v dlani. včasih je noč črna, luči pogašene,

pa se vse blešči in svetlika kot da smo na jadranu,

z ene strani se svetlika morje z druge svet.

[night is warm. it smells like boiled cabbage and krizia.]

by Tone Škrjanec

night is warm. it smells like boiled cabbage and krizia.

naked foot hesitantly rubs the carpet.

searching for the sun, cannabis has sucked its little leaves

on the window like curious kids do. a bird,

that special one with yellow tummy, sat

on a window sill. i catch your fire only sometimes for a moment

in my palms. sometimes the night is black, the lights are out

yet everything glares and sparkles like we’re by the sea,

from one side sparkles the sea from the other, the world.

translated from Slovenian by Ana Pepelnik & Matthew Rohrer
more>>