Občutek za veter

Stari so znali praviti, da je tukaj nekoč, ko so bile še zime bele, ostre
in globoke, zavijal svilen veter, ki je vzel k sebi vse, ki so gazili čez
belo ravnino, ter da so takrat, ko so tukaj še bila dolga, vroča in
visoka poletja, da je ponoči žarela zemlja, tukaj pihale suhe sape, ki
so izsušile vsako grlo. Tudi pomlad je imela svoj značilen veter, ki
je nosil nevidno življenje čez travnike in gozdove, da je orosil
vsako oko in raznežil srce, o poznem jesenskem vetru so znali
govoriti še posebej slikovito, to je bil tisti šelesteč veter, ki je nosil
vonj izobilja, opitosti in hkrati že tudi zamiranja, sanj in trohnenja.
Zdaj, ko domišljija starih, zadnjih, ki so še zmogli zgolj z nekaj
besedami pričarati rojstvo in smrt, vznesenost in še posebej tisto
nedoumljivo ter otožno hrepenenje, podobno upočasnjenemu
teku reke, neustavljivo ugaša, zdaj z njimi izginja tudi občutek za
veter. Le še redki, če sploh še kdo, zmorejo prisluhniti temu vedno
bolj enoličnemu in brezimnemu zamahu vetra, ki brezupno išče
duše, da bi v njih ponovno zazvenel.

Feel for the wind

The elders used to say that years ago, when winters were still
white, harsh and deep, a silky wind would howl, taking away all
those who trudged the white field, and that when the summers
were still long, hot and high, with soil glowing into the night, dry
winds would blow, drying up every throat. Even the spring had a
wind of its own, carrying invisible life over the meadows and
woods, bedewing every eye and softening the heart, they would be
strikingly expressive about the autumn wind, it was that rustling
wind carrying the horn of plenty, intoxication, as well as dying
away, dreams and rotting. Now that the imagination of the elders,
who were able to invoke birth and death, rapture and especially
that inconceivable and sombre yearning, resembling the sluggish
river current, in just few words, is slowly but surely becoming
extinct, it is also the feel for the wind that is dwindling away. Only
the rare few, if anyone at all, can still give ear to the more and more
dull and nameless sway of the wind hopelessly searching for souls
to resonate in them once again.

Translated by Janko Lozar