Kocbek Edvard:
In a Torched Village

I lean on a wall

still hot

from the long fire,

nowhere a villager,

nowhere a villain,

the ground gives way,

the universe sways

stars perish.

There is a surge, suddenly,

of the scent of violets.

I begin to hear

gentle voices:

grass rising

for new footsteps,

ashes cohering

to a new strength.

A spring gushes into

its stone trough,

a cat returns

to its scorched doorstone.

I grow more and more,

become a giant,

now I see over

the horror’s shoulders.

Translated by Michael Biggins

Categories

Random articles

Mozetič Brane:  Each Time Different Lips Mikeln Miloš:  The Great Bear Grafenauer Niko:  The Solitude Kocbek Edvard:  My Three Poetic Phases Zajc Dane:  You Are Not Debeljak Aleš: A Hunter’s Path Jesih Milan:  Volfram Udovič Jože:  The Life Of A Captive Kovič Kajetan:  Fruits Of The Summer Dekleva Milan: Anaximander’s Wake

Search
Slovenian Literator

Links and RSS News

Links and Live Bookmarks

Join our Mailing List

Syndicate

Atom RSS 2.0

AdSense