coca cola

by Ana Pepelnik


coca cola

Something scared the butterflies.

While they are sitting around tender flowers

sipping nervously something sweet for breakfast

I am cold. Orange-brown butterfly scrambles

on the little finger of left leg. I don't know whose

heart is pulsing faster. I don't even know if butterflies

have a heart. It is all sensibility. Of flowers.

Of butterflies. Of people. That’s why you are moved

by every sound and in some extended moment

of comfort you could remember the donkey

with gloomy eyes rounded with white. He was

searching a piece of shadow and quietness together

with you. Though a few crates of coca cola were hanging

down his back he was lighter than me. Relaxed.

Accustomed. While I couldn't stop thinking about

truly how many people are on this world. Maybe

that's why the butterfly was sitting on me. So we

could hold our hearts together and stop trembling.

So we could rest in the donkey's shadow and draw some

little white circles on the sun and postpone it

on others. To get accustomed. And drink coca cola.

Translated by Ana Pepelnik

kokakola

Nekaj je prestrašilo metulje.

Ko posedajo po občutljivih rožah

in živčno srkajo nekaj sladkega za zajtrk

me zazebe. Oranžnorjav metulj se spravi

na mezinčka leve noge. Ne vem komu

bolj utripa srce. Sploh ne vem če imajo

metulji srce. Važna je občutljivost. Rož.

Metuljev. Ljudi. Zato da te premakne

vsak zvok in se v podaljšanem trenutku

udobja lahko spomniš na osla ki je imel

otožne oči z belimi krogci. Ko sta skupaj

iskala košček sence in miru. Čeprav

je z njega viselo par gajbic kokakole je bil

lažji od mene. Sproščen. Navajen. Medtem

ko sama nisem mogla nehat mislit na to

koliko ljudi je res na tem svetu. Mogoče

je zato na meni posedel metulj. Da se skupaj

primeva za srce in nehava trepetat.

Da si spočijeva v senci osla in nariševa

bele krogce na poletje in ga preloživa na

druge. Da se navadiva. In spijeva kokakolo.

Ana Pepelnik