Evald Flisar 
Translator

on Lyrikline: 5 poems translated

from: croatian, slovenian to: english

Original

Translation

PSALAM O NEBROJENOM

croatian | Dražen Katunarić

Na otoku vidjeh tristo koza
i trideset jaraca,
čudo od ovaca,
četiri tisuće pognutih
i na stotine živahnih ovnova.
Osamdeset magarica i deset tužnih magaraca
sedam stotina tridest pet konja,
dva u kasu, mazga njihovih
dvije stotine četrdeset i šest.
Stada i stada neizmjerna.
A nijednog pastira.
S magarcem se nađoh licem u lice,
bijasmo suočeni u tami staje.
Nakon viđenja, propjevah:

gledam ti otok, nepoznati Bože
i na koljenima klečim
pred djelom očiju
gledam ti zemlju crvenu
djelo tvojih ranjenih tabana
gledam ti stabla stamena
djelo tvojih šaka i nokata.
Ničega se ne moraš stidjeti.
Ni groblja, odrona, skeleta,
šišarki beskorisnih.
Ni smokve besplodne u kamenjaru.
Ni bogalja zakraljenih.
Ni kostiju što dršću rasute
ispod zemlje i pjevaju hvale Gospodu.
Ni magaraca što gledaju se oči u oči
nasamo s ljudima, nasamo s tobom.

© Dražen Katunarić
Audio production: Croatian P.E.N. Centre

PSALM ABOUT THE INFINITE

english

On the island I saw three hundred goats
and thirty billy-goats,
a wonder of sheep,
for thousand bent sheep
and hundreds of lively rams.
Eighty she-asses and ten doleful donkeys
seven hundred thirty five horses,
two gallopping, their mules
two hundred and forty-six.
Herd upon herd, limitless.
But not one shepherd.
With a donkey I found myself face to face,
we confronted each other in the darkness of the stable.
After the vision I sang:

I watch your island, God unknown
kneeling
before your work with my eyes
I watch your red earth
the work wounded stalks,
the work of your fists and nails.
You don't have to be ashamed of anything.
Not of cemeteries, landslides, skeletons,
Useless gall-nuts.
Not of barren fig-trees inside a stone enclosure.
Not of cripples made kings.
Not of bones that spring up
from under the soil and sing praise to God.
Not of donkeys who look straight in the eye
alone with people, alone with you.

Translated by Evald Flisar

NEVOLJENA

croatian | Dražen Katunarić

Ti me ne znaš, dušo, i kad te držim za ruku. Milujem po ozeblim
prstima. Konobar nas je uhvatio na djelu donijevši crnog vina
iz čistog žara.
Ti me ne znaš, dušo, kao ni staricu, samu za stolom jer za nju
nitko ne mari, osim drugih starica koje će doći, samo kasnije,
kasnije...na kartanje.

Zar se itko zna poljubiti kao mi, dotaći koljenima? Konobar?

Zar bi itko požalio starice, il strasno poželio ih? Konobar?

Da sam prolio crno vino na pod, ti bi ispustila ruku, oćutjela se
nevoljenom.
Ti me ne znaš dušo, a možda i starice slute da te volim, čim kartaju
tako živahno, i konobar pleše noseć pladanj vina, znači vjeruje
u našu ljubav

samo ti, ti mi ne vjeruješ dušo,
dugo, dugo bila si nevoljena

© Dražen Katunarić
Audio production: Croatian P.E.N. Centre

UNLOVED

english

You don't know me, my dear, not even when I hold your hand. Caressing
your frozen fingers. The waiter caught us at it when he brought us red wine from sheer excitement.
You don't know me, my dear, nor the old woman alone at the table
because no one cares for her, except other old women who will come,
only later, later...to play cards.

Can anyone kiss the way we can, knees touching? The waiter?

Would anyone pity the old women, or want them passionately?
The waiter?

If I spilled red wine on the floor, you would let go of my hand, feeling
unloved.
You don't know me, my dear, but maybe even the old women sense
that I love you, since they are so lively at cards, and the waiter dances
carrying a platter of wine, which means he believes in our love,

only you, you don't believe me, my dear,
you have been unloved for too long,
for a very long time.

Translated by Evald Flisar

OSTAJEM SVE DULJE U MORU

croatian | Dražen Katunarić

Ostajem sve dulje u moru. U nedužnosti.
Toplo je sve do zalaska, kad se zapad
zarumeni, a lastavice polude od sreće: pretiču
nebesa. Ostajem sve dulje u moru, uživati u
svakom valu, slatkom kao narezane tikvice u
maslinovu ulju, posute peršinom, češnjakom i
bosiljkom. Ostajem sve dulje u moru, veseliti
se pjenušavom zaveslaju, i tragu usputnom,
hoću li vlastitim očima naći uspomenu na
čistini pijeska, u vlatima dna: u svakoj sjeni
ima ponešto od naslaga sna. Ostajem sve dulje
u moru, gledajuć ljubičaste kupačice na
škrapama, galebe kosih čela, s ribom preko
kljuna, naslikane dveri na ljeskovoj, riđoj
površini. Ostajem sve dulje u moru, vabeć
smiraj, u ušima mi ciči jeka radosnih dana i
klicanja: slušam svog čovjeka! Ostajem sve
dulje, do mraka, u moru.

© Dražen Katunarić
Audio production: Croatian P.E.N. Centre

I STAY IN THE SEA LONGER AND LONGER

english

I stay in the sea longer and longer. In its innocence
It is warm right until sunset when the west
grows red and swallows go crazy with joy: they overtake
the heavens. I stay in the sea longer and longer to enjoy
every wave as sweet as sliced courgettes in
olive oil, sprinkled with parsley, garlic and
sweet basil. I stay in the sea longer and longer to look forward to
the foamy stroke and to the incidental trace;
shall I, with my own eyes, find memory on
the clear sand, on the leaves at the bottom: in every shadow
there are some layers of a dream. I stay longer and longer
in the sea, watching purple female swimmers on
cracked limestone, seagulls with slanted foreheads, with fish across
their beaks, painted gates on the shimmering, reddish
surface. I stay in the sea longer and longer, alluring
the sunset, in my ears there squeals the echo of joyful days and
cheering: I listen to my own man! I stay longer
and longer, until the dark, in the sea.

Translated by Evald Flisar

USPAVANKA

slovenian | Aleš Šteger

Le še pet minut ti ostaja,
Dokler ne ugasnem luči.
Ker pesmi, ki si jo ves dan čakal,
Ni bilo, naštej za konec enostavno, kar je.
Torej: na mizi ležijo utrujene knjige,
Rastline so že zvile svoje liste in spijo,
Televizor šumi in na mizi frfota vešča,
Do smrti zaljubljena v luč.
Le še minuto imaš. Trideset sekund.
Sedaj sem gol in v postelji. Slišim te:
Deset, devet, toda - ali nisem nečesa pozabil? -
Šest, da, pet, pozabil sem na štiri,
Tri, toda sedaj je dva in je tudi za to
Prepozno. Lahko le še trdno zatisnem krila
In upam, da me ob nič prebudiš.

© Aleš Šteger
from: Kaschmir. Gedichte. Slowenisch / Deutsch, übersetzt von Gerhard Falkner und dem Autor
Wien: Edition Korrespondenzen,
ISBN: 3-902113-10-3
Audio production: 2000 M. Mechner, literaturWERKstatt berlin

LULLABY

english

There's only five minutes left to you
Before I put out the lights.
Because the poem for which you waited all day
Isn't there, simply enumerate what is.
So then: tired books on the table,
Plants have folded their leaves and are now asleep,
The TV is buzzing and above the table a moth is fluttering,
Fatally in love with the light.
Only a minute now. Thirty seconds.
Now I'm naked and in bed. I hear you:
Ten, nine, but  - haven't I forgotten something? -
Six, yes, five, I forgot four,
Three, but now it is two and for that, too,
It's too late. I can only firmly shut my wings
And hope you'll wake me at zero.

Translated by Evald Flisar




© A. Steger / Evald Flisar


OREH

slovenian | Aleš Šteger

Ostal si praznih rok in v rokah imaš oreh.
Sprva ga stiskaš in skrivaš kot kako čarovnijo,
Toda potem stisne vse tebe in veš, da moraš
Odgovoriti in s tem ubiti čarovnika, da bi preživel.
V središču oreha je jedrce, toda jedrce te ne briga,
Rešitev rabiš, ki je zapisana na notranjosti lupine.
Stiska je prehuda, zato stisneš prazno pest in ga zlomiš.
Oreh umolkne, počeni znaki postanejo nedoumljivi
In odgovor sfingičen, a skozi razpoke smukneš v notranjost
In poješ jedrce. Tako si izdolbeš prostor. Tako postaneš ti jedrce.
In jedrce postane ti. Ti počepne in čaka,
Da se lupina okrog njega zarase. Kot nekakšen fetus
Čepi in čaka in v orehu je vedno manj svetlobe
In vedno manj ran. Počasi lahko prične ti brati znamenja
In znamenja so vedno bolj cela.
Ti bere na glas, a ko pride skoraj do konca,
Se lupina zaraste in okoli ti se znoči. V temi ujeti ti sliši,
Kako iz cilindra skoči beli zajec z morilskimi sekalci,
Obstoji pred orehom in ga nepremično gleda.

© Aleš Šteger
from: Kaschmir. Gedichte. Slowenisch / Deutsch, übersetzt von Gerhard Falkner und dem Autor
Wien: Edition Korrespondenzen,
ISBN: 3-902113-10-3
Audio production: 2000 M. Mechner, literaturWERKstatt berlin

WALNUT

english

You have remained empty-handed and you have a walnut in your hands.
At first you squeeze it and hide it like some magic,
But then everything squeezes you and you know that you must
React and kill the magician to survive.
In the middle of the walnut there is a kernel, but you don't care about it,
You need the solution which is inscribed on the inside of the shell.
The agony is too great, so you squeeze the empty fist and break the walnut.
It grows silent, the broken signs become  incomprehensible
And the answer sphinx-like, but through the gaps you climb inside
And eat the kernel. So you make room for yourself. So you become the kernel.
And the kernel becomes You. You squats and waits
For the shell to grow around it. Like some kind of foetus
He squats and waits while in the walnut there is less and less light,
And fewer and fewer wounds. Slowly You can begin to read the signs
And the signs are more and more whole.
You reads aloud, but when he reaches the end
The shell grows complete and night falls around You. Caught in the dark,
You hears how a white rabbit with murderous teeth jumps out of a hat
And stops in front of the walnut, looking at it intently.

Translated by Evald Flisar




© A. Steger / Evald Flisar