Andrej Hočevar

السلوفانية

Andrej Hočevar, Robin Parmar

الانجليزية

Na pol poti

Hiše, v katerih ne živim več,
so slečene do spodnjega perila.
Drevesa zardevajo, ker nimajo ust,
iz katerih bi se lahko razlila preteklost.
Mesto se je že zvečer spustilo
nekaj nadstropij niže.
Obdajajoči prostor me zmanjšuje
z vsako idejo, ki vanj poskuša vstopiti.
Srajca se me oprijema otročje in mehko.
Ravno prava mera dobrega
te zaduši, skozi tvoja ušesa
od znotraj porine svoje kremplje,
nevajene svetlobe. Nobenih
napovedi ni bilo, in v tem so
se uresničile. Veliko vidnega ostane
videnega. Ne potrebujem več
časa, ampak nekaj vseeno hočem
narediti. Nekaj povedati
in v izrečenem dobiti zaveznika.
Dokler bom zapuščal, bom živ.

© Andrej Hočevar
من: Leto brez idej
Ljubljana: LUD Šerpa, 2011
ISBN: 978-961-6699-24-2
الإنتاج المسموع: LUD Literatura, 2014

Halfway there

Houses I don’t inhabit anymore
are stripped to their underwear.
The trees blush,
for lack of a mouth
to pour out the past.
By evening, the city has
sunken a few floors.
The surrounding space makes me smaller
with every idea trying to enter it.
My shirt’s fit is childlike and soft.
Just the right amount of good
will suffocate you, thrusting through your ears
its claws, unaccustomed to light.
Precisely that there were no predictions
made them come true. Much of what can be
seen remains seen. I don’t need more
time, but I want something
to do. Something to say
and to make an ally out of it.
As long as I’ll always be leaving, I’ll live.

Translated by the author and Robin Parmar