Ana Pepelnik 
Translator

on Lyrikline: 6 poems translated

from: السلوفانية to: الانجليزية

Original

Translation

Črni scenariji

السلوفانية | Primož Čučnik

Ta človek na mostu je vedno tam.
Zaposlen s poskušanjem, da bi izprosil kaj denarja,
od nas, ki smo ga izprosili iz skladov
in ga nehote razdajamo. Stalno je april
in vsak dan smo prvega. Po navadi mesto
nastopi s kako urgentnostjo. Rešilec na nujni vožnji,
tiranija prihrankov v rokah tatov,
rdeča nit se prekine s strelom
in treba je na začetek.

A če je to šala, potem je slaba.
Veliko praznih flaš in polnih kant,
z iglami prebodeni poldnevniki,
v zenitu so vse ljubezni večne, na negativu nerazbolene,
zamenjane. Potem vsak hlipa sam
in čez njegovo ležišče zabrije veter,
zvali se v posteljo, narejeno iz ostankov,
pobaše, česar niso požrli psi,
pije vodo iz občudovane fontane.

Na pol tukaj, na pol z mislimi drugje,
tako živim na cesti, na prekletem dežju,
v tej plundri in blatu, prisluškujem izlivu kanalizacije.
Zaudarjam, spomnim se malo, za nohti imam črno,
od sebe dajem največ, kar lahko.

© Primož Čučnik
from: Delo in dom
Ljubljana: Lud Literatura, 2007
Audio production: 2008 Literaturwerkstatt Berlin

Black scenarios

الانجليزية

This man on the bridge, he’s always there.
Busy trying to swindle us out of our money
as we swindled it out of various funds,
unintentionally giving it away. It’s April
all the time, every day the first. Usually
the city makes its appearance with some emergency.
An ambulance on urgent drive,
tyranny of savings in the hands of thieves,
a shot breaks the red thread,
and back to the beginning.

If this is a joke, it’s a bad one.
Plenty of empty bottles and stuffed trash cans,
meridians pierced with needles,
all loves are eternal in the zenith, painless on the negative,      
mistaken. Then everyone weeps by himself,
with icy wind sweeping across his resting place,
he rolls on the bed made out of leftovers,
grabs everything the dogs haven’t taken,
drinks the water out of the admired fountain.

Half here half somewhere else in thoughts,
that’s how I live on the street, in this damned rain,
in this slush and mud, eavesdropping on the canals.
I stink, I don’t remember much, there’s black behind my nails,
I give it my all.

Translated by A. Pepelnik and M. Zapruder

sunki

السلوفانية | Ana Pepelnik

Nobenega vetra. Samo občasni
sunki zraka ki jih je sprožila taščica.
Čisto zraven mene. Za nami
je cel teden sprehajanja med bloki.

Dol in gor po ulici parkrat na dan.
Še vedno ima vsak svoj vrt.
Pridno ga obdelujejo če niso v stiski.
Grede polne špinače ki je

nobeden ne skuha.

Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2010

Shakes

الانجليزية

No wind. Just episodic shakes
of  air released by a robin.
Right beside me. We left a whole week
of walking between blocks of flats behind us.

Up and down the street several times a day.
People still have their own gardens.
They take good care of them if they’re not too busy.
Vegetable plots full of spinach

that nobody cooks.

Translated by Ana Pepelnik and Zoë Skoulding

podobno sprehodu

السلوفانية | Ana Pepelnik

Ulica se naenkrat sprazni.
To je učinek snega. Danes se usuva
po cestah kot težka zavesa po odru.
S sabo prinese nek svoj mir in kot
po maslu izgine vse kar je umazano.
Zdaj že vem da to pomeni da se bo
spet pojavil klavir in potem zadušen
zven rokavic ki prehitro drsijo po tipkah.
Spet boš v rokah držal pikapolonico
in mi jo na koncu ulice položil v naročje.
Da me ne bi treslo in da se bo mir
obdržal za par dni. Ulica in vse kar je
na njej je danes drugačno. Belo in prazno.
Deluje rahlo tuje zato se skoncentriram
na toploto v naročju. Z obema rokama
držim pikapolonico ki mi prinese srečo
vsakič ko jo pogledam.

Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2010

Walk like

الانجليزية

Suddenly the street empties.
That’s the effect snow has. Today
it’s falling down like curtains on a stage.
It brings some peace of its own and
smooth as butter everything dirty
disappears. Now I know it means the piano
will appear again and, later, the muffled
sound of gloves sliding too fast over the keys.
Again you’ll hold the ladybird in your hands
and put it down on my lap at the end of the street.
So I won’t shiver and so that the calm
will hold for a couple of days. The street and everything
on it is different today. White and empty.
Its effect is slightly strange so I concentrate
on the warmth in my lap. With both hands
I hold the ladybird which brings me luck
every time I look at it.

Translated by Ana Pepelnik and Zoë Skoulding

pod stopnice

السلوفانية | Ana Pepelnik

S prstom drezam v sponko
za papir. Razstavim jo
do tanke žičke
in nastane roža.

Za pripet podobe. Za poletje
ko na pomitih šipah ne bo
več risbic iz prahu.

Pozabila sem se pogovorit
z vetrom in si nalila vino
v čist kozarec. Steklo
je iz rož in na dnu je kamen.

Diši po cvetju iz Pariza
in včerajšnjem večeru
ko se je mesto zapiralo
ob stopnicah.

Po njih se je spuščal menih.
Spominjalo je na drsenje
in pripravljeni smo bili
pozabit na greh.

Golobu sem dala
salamo ker pri sebi
nisem imela drobtin.

Šele ko se je vse umirilo
smo shodili čez vodo
povezani z drobno sponko.

Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2010

Under the stairs

الانجليزية

I’m poking at a paper clip
with a finger. I dismantle it
to a thin wire
and a flower appears.

For pinning up images. For the summer
when there’ll be no more dust
drawings on the washed windows.

I forgot to talk
with the wind and poured myself some wine
in a clean glass. It’s made
of flowers and at the bottom there’s a stone.

You can smell the flowers from Paris
and yesterdays evening
when the city was closing
by the stairs.

There the monk was descending.
It looked like gliding
and we were prepared
to forget about the sin.

I gave some salami
to a pigeon because I
didn’t have any crumbs.

Not until everything was quiet
we started walking on the water
connected with a tiny paperclip.

Translated by Ana Pepelnik and Zoë Skoulding

nenadoma sneg

السلوفانية | Ana Pepelnik

Danes mi gre svet na živce.
Ljudje so zategnjeni
kot popki na češnji.
 
Če zapišem da sem sama
to tudi mislim. Z glasbo
med prsti ponazarjam slabo pesem.

Potem je svet kar naenkrat spet
v redu. Plundro je pobralo
čez noč in vrabci so pri zajtrku.

Rada bi spet dobila kartico
s tremi vrsticami o tem
kako je kaj z ljudmi v drugih mestih.

Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2010

Suddenly snow

الانجليزية

Today the world gets on my nerves.
People are overstrained
like buds on a cherry tree.

If I write down that I am alone
I mean that. I illustrate bad a poem
with music between my fingers.

All of a sudden the world is ok.
The slush was gone through the night
and sparrows are having breakfast.

I want another postcard
with a few lines about how it is
with other people in other towns.

Translated by Ana Pepelnik and Matthew Zapruder

december

السلوفانية | Ana Pepelnik

Čez umazanijo posuto po mestu
se je naredila tanka skorja ledu.
Ljubljana kot torta z marcipanovim
prelivom. Če obhodiš malo ulic
še preden se stemni in se mesto sprazni
lahko vidiš kako se ljudje rahlo zaletavajo.
Nanje se usipa sneg kot v krogli
s figuricami. Ko jo potreseš
se figurice zaletavajo in nad njimi krožijo
bele pike. Če je naokrog tišina lahko slišiš
praznično petje in rahlo potrkavanje.
Danes sem utrujena. Drsam se po tankem
ledu in pazim da se ne zaletavam.
Mrmram si sveto noč ker se je že stemnilo.
V žepu imam marcipan. Vsakič ko se kdo
rahlo zaleti vame ga malo odgriznem.
Samo zato da sneg ki ga lovim med prste
postane topel. Samo zato da zdržim.

Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2010

December

الانجليزية

Over the dirt-infested city spreads
a thin veneer of ice. Ljubljana’s
a marzipan-covered cake. If you wander
through a few alleyways even as dark
is emptying the town you’ll see how people
are softly colliding. Snow falls on them
as on the figurines in a crystal ball
when you shake it the figurines begin
colliding softly in a swirl of snowflakes.
If it is quiet you can hear carols,
a tinkle of chimes. I am tired today.
Skating on thin ice I try to avoid
those slight collisions. I murmur holy night
to myself because it’s already dark.
In my pocket I keep marzipan and each
time someone bumps me bite a little off
so that the snow is warm when I catch it
in my fingers. So that I can hold out.

Translated by Ana Pepelnik and Matthew Zapruder