Two poems from Sliding World (Drseči svet)
kako spremeni smer in se izstreli
v spalnico. glej, muha.
muha je tu. obrača olivne oči,
da bi videla, kje se nahaja.
kako sem mislila, da se bom v njeni
gladki prisotnosti lažje borila
s sencami. da jih bo
odmijavkala. kako sem jo
namesto tega naučila nekaj
besed. muha. mačka. nehaj.
pridna.
kako so me naučili nekaj besed.
pametna. prijazna. pridna.
kako je ukaz prej kot
pohvala. kako si zase želim,
da bi znala ubogati le, kadar se
odločim. kako od nje pričakujem,
da bo zmeraj ubogala.
muha. mehka šapa.
pridna.
How she changes course and launches
into the bedroom. look, a fly.
a fly is here. she turns her olive eyes
to see where it is.
how I thought her smooth presence
would make it easier to fight the shadows.
that she would meow
them away. how, instead, I taught her a few
words. a fly. kitty. stop it.
good girl.
how they taught me a few words.
smart. kind. good girl.
how it’s an order rather than
praise. how I wish
I could obey only when
I decide to. how I expect her
to always obey.
a fly. soft paw.
good girl.
Translated by Boštjan Kmetec, proofread by Sunčan Stone.
kako me časopisi včasih
iztaknejo iz prostega teka.
četudi moja občutljivost
niha z nasičenostjo sveta
in valovanji kortizola.
kako se kljub temu naučim
lahkotnosti.
ne vzrojim zaradi brenčanja muhe,
ko naj bi se pisala poezija.
kako dolgo časa stojim ob oknu in
vljudno sugeriram izhod.
in nisem prepričana, katera od naju
izbira bolj nesmiselno strategijo
za doseganje svojih ciljev:
muha, ki pod stropom kroži
v upanju na odprtino,
ali jaz, ki
se urim v jeziku žuželk.
how newspapers sometimes
rip me from running idly.
even if my sensitivity
swings with the saturation of the world
and the undulation of cortisol.
how, despite all this, I learn
lightness.
I don’t fly off the handle because of a buzzing fly
when poetry is supposed to be written.
how I stand in front of the window for a long time and
politely suggest the way out.
and I’m not sure which one of us
is choosing the more irrational strategy
to achieve our goals:
the fly circling under the ceiling,
hoping to find an opening,
or me
training in the language of insects.
Translated by Boštjan Kmetec, proofread by Sunčan Stone.
Photo Credit: Sami Rahim