Tomaž Šalamun

slovenščina

Michael Biggins

angleščina

ANDRAŽ

Moj brat stopi gol, lep kot deviški vrelec
v dvorano in ubije jagnje iz ljubezni:
jemo in premišljujemo sliko.
Sani zarjavijo čez poletje, nebo se zniža

in postane vlažno, zemlja rodi jagode.
Vojaki stojijo lačni
med narcisami rumenimi kot noč,
jasna, jasna straža;

roloji so spuščeni in zaklenjeni,
markacija pelje v gore, v Trnovski gozd,
o, Čaven, zrak nabit z angeli,

krediti armade, kruh, kruh,
o, Sibila, razlita, strnjena barva,
nepremično, nespremenljivo hrepenenje.

© Tomaž Šalamun
Iz: Amerika
Maribor : Založba Obzorja, 1972
Avdio produkcija: Študentska založba

ANDRAŽ

my brother strides naked
beautiful as a virgin spring
through the hall, kills the lamb
with love

we eat and meditate on the image

sleds rust between winters, the sky gets lower
and grows damp
the earth bears strawberries
soldiers stand hungry
among daffodils yellow as night
a clear, pure guard

shutters, closed and locked
trail markers in the woods and mountains
O Mt. Caven, air crowded with angels

army tracks, bread, bread
O Sibyil, split hardened color
immovable, unalterable itch

Translated by Michael Biggins
© by White Pine Press