Contempo- rary Slovenian poetry 2 - Ljudmila

Translated by Marjan
Golobič
in a stone, the possibility of a butterfly
in a sigh. She says: it’s true, no
lie.
Fundamentum agendi
Translated by Marjan
Golobič
Through the soul dropped the contemptible… where are you?
At the bottom of derision where I’m seething
where memory is fire-branded. I live smoke for
the sowing season. Tell me, tell me the contemptible,
why are the yearnings abandoned?
And why are the doors of horror buried?
Who smeared the dust and
put out the ashes, who forever
made it through the night and hid in the potion?
He concocted a source and pierced himself with the shadow
of melancholy.
He wrapped himself in sincerity which came to
sadden the unfurled appearance of facelessness.
And now I am where I have already been and
shaken is my guilt of fire branding.
But they look at me with disgust and their
nightmares shimmer in reply: if
tears could cry the obelisk would be abandoned.
And wretched is their touch which cries in
oblivion and disgusts itself in insanity…
Where are you? At the tail of measure, which is one big painful touch.
33
From The Shield
Translated by Marjan
Golobič
Fallen angles,
smitten with gifts,
resting in mid-sky.
Sterile thunder,
again and again,
but nothing fell asunder.
The impure have
skipped perfection
and did not quake
before the flattering shield.
They reached into condition
and covered the cloud.
The shield crumbled.
The fallen angels did not fall.