To walk, on this day, across the Prešeren square, on the dead faces of paving stones,
Along the river, leaning over the fences of bridges, laying off what has pierced through
the eyes
In the pouring of water, laying off what has entered the ears and has left burnt sounds
In the pouring of water, laying off, in the morning, after a sleepless night, to move on
And see as much as I can on this day, I am trying to visualise the path, watching
The dispersed people attached to the low sunbeams, I know that no one can
Give me the word which would fit my own, I know that I have to move through
The City, alone, like through the forest, like through the body of morning in June, dense
With birds and wind, it is the only way I can move and bear everything piercing through
my eyes,
When I walk on the bones of the city as if climbing the branches of a tree, always further,
always
Further away, to move away, to be light, on the walls of the castle, on the edge of the air,
to be in the hands
Of something lighter than myself, on this day, this is the only way I can learn to fall
And break away from the day when they set off fireworks on the roof of the city and
when
The fireworks entered our bodies and turned us into each other we were holding
Hands, not knowing to whom they belonged,
Only by moving on and becoming lighter, falling and breathing among the greasy
Scent of flowers and car exhausts in the ripped city washed by the river,
Along which I walk and watch and listen to the cigarette butt in the face of water
And try to remember these words, the words of sizzling, which are all that is left.
Translated by Igor Divjak
Hoditi, na ta dan, čez Prešernov trg, po mrtvih obrazih tlakovcev,
vzdolž reke, in se nagibati čez ograje mostov, odlagati tisto, kar je prebodlo
oči v pretakanje vode, odlagati tisto, kar je šlo v uho in zapustilo ožgane zvoke
v pretakanje vode, odlagati, jutro je, po noči, ko nisem spal, iti,
čim več videti na ta dan, trudim se, da si predstavljam pot, gledati
razpršene ljudi, navešene na nizke sončne žarke, vem, da mi nihče ne
more dati besede, ki bi se prilegala moji besedi, vem, da moram iti
skozi mesto, sam, kot skozi gozd, kot skozi telo junijskega dopoldneva, gostega
od ptic in vetra, samo tako se lahko premikam in prenesem vse, kar se zabode v oči,
ko hodim po kosteh mesta, kakor da plezam po vejah drevesa, vedno dlje, vedno
bolj
stran, oddaljevati se, biti lahek, na obzidju gradu, na robu zraka, biti izročen
nečemu, kar je še lažje od mene, na ta dan, samo tako se lahko naučim padanja
in se odlomim od dne, ko so na strehi mesta uprizorili ognjemet in sva se pri tem,
ko je ognjemet stopil v najini telesi in naju obrnil drug v drugega, držala
za roke, ne da bi vedela, katere roke so čigave,
samo tako, da grem in postajam lahek, ko padam in diham zrak med mastnim
vonjem rož in izpušnimi plini avtomobilov v preparanem mestu, ki ga pere reka,
ob kateri hodim in gledam in poslušam cigaretni ogorek v licu vode
in si poskušam zapomniti te besede, besede cvrčanja, ki so edino, kar je ostalo.
