[noč je topla. diši po kuhanem zelju in krizii.]
by Tone Škrjanecnoč 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 Škrjanecnight 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