These men, in their boats, they are cutting across
the crust of blueness, raising their nets, the cobweb I live in.
Their voices come with the wind, dry, lost, I do not recognize
the words. It eludes only me. Theirs is this world.
We are waving hello, the catch is ours also.
(The fish in the net, how does it get caught anyway?
by sheer luck, through persistence day after day, is it a sign?)
Lying down, we are gazing at this world. Every other would be
a delusion. There is nothing simpler than the fruit of lemons,
fleshy leaves, shadows weaving a carpet out of yellow,
first ripeness in the sprouts of yet another spring.
And the men in the boats believe in these. For them
every other world is an illusion. They haven’t violated the commandment:
worship, totem and taboo, all are taken into account.
The passing of time, your voice, your smile, a melancholy herb,
an absorbed gaze. The scent of summer,
winter and spring, mad changes gaily suffusing
the juice of delusion - see there! Bees on
the bursting buds! Secret signs full of honey!
iz slovenščine prevedla Ana Jelnikar
Ti na barkah režejo skorjo modrine in dvigujejo
mreže, pajčevino, v kateri živim. Njihov glas
prihaja z vetrom, suh, porazgubljen, ne prepoznam
besed. Le meni se izmika. Njihov je ta svet.
Mahaje jih pozdravljava, tudi najin je ulov.
(Ta riba v mreži, le kako se ujame?
Na srečo, na vztrajen dan za dnem, na znamenje?)
Leživa in strmiva, vsak drug svet bi bil slepilo.
Ni preprostejšega od sadežev limon, mesnatih
listov, senc, ki iz rumene pletejo preprogo,
prve zrelosti v poganjkih vnovične pomladi.
In ti na barkah jim verjamejo. Vsak drug svet
je zanje iluzija. Niso prekršili zapovedi:
Všteto je čaščenje, vštet je totem, vštet tabu.
Minevanje, tvoj glas, nasmeh, otožna zel,
zamaknjenost strmenja. Vonj nekega poletja,
neke zime in pomladi, norih sprememb,
ki radostno pojijo sok slepila - vidiš! Čebele na
brstečih popkih! Skrivna znamenja, polna medu!
