Zbornik Mednarodnega literarnega srečanja Vilenica 2004 - Ljudmila

Anni Sumari
A glimpse of the blue sky.
A glimpse of Picasso at work,
a glimpse of falling ashtrays
and a smiling Buddha in the hook of the crane.
Focus on guts that are flowing out,
that keep on flowing and sharpening.
Consciousness doesn’t stream, it disrupts, cuts.
Shifts narrators, shifts rhythms.
Shifts perspectives, times, places from
one logic to another.
Compassionate, you know
horror and death as if you owned them.
Blazed, you watch
those who have lost everything,
who keep losing right and left,
who never succeed in anything
who are always plotted against
who are required to do the impossible,
who are being worn out, pushed aside,
who are chased, forced to escape
who have to trust, because there’s no choice,
to passionately love no-thing, the smallest
gesture, compliment, second-hand knowledge,
those who had barely caught their breath
when it was already too late
and who can now do nothing but
gape and radiate and yell:
«More! More! More!«
Gravitational farce of attraction that links
the inhabitants of the blue planet to each other,
to the serene, undulating golf course.
I deliberately forget all mountains –
the mountain, the hairy chest of a macho,
and the chapel on the hillside basking in the sun
like a golden pendant around his neck.
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