Daljnovod

Poševen sneg, nedelja, odprta v nebo.
Igra vode in mraza se odvija
v rednih, fantastičnih nadaljevanjih.
Tri postave sekajo neskidan pločnik
kot privid.
Sedim za mizo ob oknu, vstavljenem
v debel severni zid.
Otrok spi in z dihanjem divja po sobi,
kot da se bode s snežnim metežem.
Dve misli se zapodita v spolzek klanec.
Na vrhu počijeta, s hrbta snameta sanke
in se usedeta.
Glej, mama nama maha.
Glej, tam.
Sanke drvijo čez belo čistino
kot nore,
piš vetra in pršec snega si podajata
divje zagledani otroški obraz,
nagnjen
čez zamišljeni rob.
Potem zakašlja, zajavka.
Sedim in sledim vsemu temu
kot buden pes,
na preži pod visokim daljnovodom
jem nedeljski sneg.

© Jure Jakob
From: Delci dela
Ljubljana: LUD Literatura, 2012
ISBN: 978-961-6717-84-7
Audio production: LUD Literatura, 2014

Pylons

Pylons   

Slanting snow, Sunday open to the sky.
The play of water and cold unfolds
in even, fantastical sequels.
Three figures cut through cluttered pavement
like apparitions. 
I'm seated at the table by the window that's
planted into the thick northern wall.
The child's asleep with breath zooming  
round the room, fisty-fighting the snowstorm. 
Two thoughts veer headlong on the slippery slope.
They come to a stop at the top, take sledges
from their backs and sit down.
Look, mother 's waving at us.
Look, there.
The sledges go rushing across the white clearing
like crazy,
Gusts of wind and fine snow, back & forthing
a starkly bewildered child's face,
leaning
across the imagined edge.
Then a cough, a moan.
I sit and follow all this
like a vigilant dog, 
on guard under the tall pylon
& eat Sunday snow. 

Translated from Slovenian by Ana Jelnikar and Stephen Watts