Ivan Dobnik - Vilenica

Autumn day
Lord: it is time. The summer has been lengthy.
May the shadow overcome the sundial,
may the night spill its inkwell for hours
and may it be washed away, leaving
a trace of spiderweb skies during the day.
May fruit come to ripen for the last time,
and may the wind send them home among
the rusty leaves. May the wine rest in vats
in darkness, in the dampness of low vaults.
The homeless are not in time to build one,
they will coil like snakes to find meaning
in itself, in its extended question mark.
In a period, the poison it bears within.
The lonely will lose the count of time,
a string of buoys to mark the level of black.
They will walk following the echo of every leaf
nerve crunch that will be their own sap.
Xavier Farré · 355
Herr: es ist Zeit . Der Sommer war sehr gross
Rainer Maria Rilke