Počasi sprejemajoč svoje meje

Vse kaže, da prvi znaki neurja
niso dovolj, kadar hodiš po nevidnih robovih;
na eni strani predaje, opirajoče se na
topel zrak, ki se dviga in dviga,
nezadostnost budnosti na drugi,
dišeča kot avto v hladni noči.
Ampak to v bistvu nima vonja in ta
pesem obotavljivo govori o nečem drugem,
kako bi se najraje obrnil in pustil,
da mi ogenj z obeh strani ožge noge,
da z dimom vzleti nova noč
za nekoga, ki jo bo lahko sprejel
kot sopotnico za del poti, ne več,
zakaj spomin zase zahteva neizpolnjenost --
nato ledeni orehi zamenjajo oči,
varno spravljene v mojih besedah;
tako brez truda črke včasih odklenejo prepade.
A vse, kar bo po tem ostalo,
bo treba počistiti kot stopinje v prahu.
Če bi bil pes, bi polizal sirupaste luže,
slajše z vsako zmrzaljo.

Slowly accepting my boundaries

It all seems like the first signs of a storm
do not suffice when walking on invisible edges;
on the one side surrender, leaning on
warm air, rising higher and higher,
the insufficence of vigilance on the other,
as fragrant as cars at night.
But this in truth contains no scent and this
poem is about something different,
how I would like, most of all, to turn and let
my legs be burnt by fire from two sides,
and a new night take flight with smoke
for whoever will be able to accept it
as a companion part of the way, not more,
for reminiscence insists on incompleteness --
next icy wallnuts substitute eyes
safely stored in my words,
thus, effortless, letters sometimes unlock abysses.
But all that will be left behind
will have to be wiped of like footsteps in dust.
If I were a dog I would lick the syrupy puddles
sweeter with every frost.

Translated by Ana Petkovšek.