Ivan Dobnik - Vilenica

318 · Jan Wagner
corn
in this field you might get lost
playing, as the shadow falls
longer and the acres or miles
of gust, of field, of gust,
separate you from home. rustling
leaves–like the shuffling
of cards. later between masses of stars
a new image: the zig-zaggy hare.
you sleep, curled up in silence
like an animal. by morning the sun
finds you, your skull cleaved
with thirst. above you stands
the meters high, towering outline,
grinning, a jaw crammed with gold teeth.
Translated by David Keplinger
and Katharina Norden, with the author