Chestnut

Thank you for the chestnuts –

this year I couldn't find time to pick them up.

 

Once the tree stood in the middle

of the garden before it was cut down.

Straight as an ascetic

he stared at the winter forecast.

Yesterday he crossed the threshold again

and shook with his treetop.

 

Even today

its rough trunk talks

how among the thorns something is hidden.

 

He swung me back in the falls,

when it was possible to believe

that we won't burn ourselves

when the burnt shell acres

brought a smile.

 

Nowadays it's a different forest from

the one we whistled in

to walk from one glade to another.

Long paths are covered and evening

rises with another thoughts.

 

However, I walk on.

 

If I take a break,

I hear stories again about lumberjacks

and someone who is looking for an ax –

together with them the tree is disappearing in a cold.

 

Thank you for the tasty chestnuts,

but I would prefer to share it with you.

Kostanj

Hvala za kostanj –

letos ga nisem utegnil nabrati.


 

Nekoč je stal sredi vrta,

a smo ga posekali.

Vzravnan kot asket

je strmel v zimske napovedi.

Včeraj je ponovno prestopil prag

in zamajal s krošnjo.


 

Tudi danes

njegovo hrapavo deblo govori,

da je med bodicami skrito marsikaj.


 

Zavrti me v jeseni,

ko je bilo možno verjeti,

da se ne bomo opekli,

ko so zažgane lupine juter

zazevale v nasmeh.


 

Zdaj je drugačen gozd od tistega,

po katerem se je žvižgalo,

da bi se prišlo od ene jase k drugi.

Temne poti so zakrite in večer

se dvigne z drugačnimi mislimi.


 

Kljub temu hodim naprej.


 

Toda kadar posedam,

ponovno zaslišim zgodbe o drvarjih

in nekoga, ki išče sekiro.

Z njimi v mraz izginja tudi drevo.


 

Hvala za kostanj – bil je okusen,

a raje bi ga delil s teboj.