A Simple Sun
Children move along the path through the forest,
Birds have ascended into the foliage;
For the first time this week, a persistent wind blows across the road,
There are two nannies, one in the front and one in the back,
They know the names of some of these birds;
First green tufts of grass are growing from the ground
Through the mess of last year’s leaves.
Everyone walks as they wish, but they have to stay together,
The path is steep, so one of them will be the first to go higher,
Though the difference will then be immediately forgotten
And nobody’s restless palm will be visited by a bird.
There’s a castle there, they’re heading towards its walls
On which birds perch, birds different
From the ones any of them will ever remember
Sitting in front of a photo.
And one of the nannies scalds a girl for putting a stone in her mouth.
When she’s older, somebody will tell her that the mouth
Is soft, and maybe she’ll open it with somebody
As if the stone had melted.
But now they’re opening them as if everything was theirs,
And when I can’t see them anymore, birds rush
Down from all around me and peck at the leftover bread
As if the crumbs were truly theirs.
But the word wants the world inside it,
And so the world remains there, the child and the bird,
The free little bodies
Beneath a simple sun,
And the birds and the children don’t care.
I’m sitting behind the window, in the corner of the kitchen,
Twice locked in and twice immobile:
The birds and the children.
I couldn’t hear anything, but I know they both chattered about the same thing:
Ones at the others, about you and me, about yours and mine, the voices
That can’t drift apart.
That’s the reason for this poem.
I’ve locked myself in but the light still reaches me
And I want to stay present.
From Abandoned Places, Ljubljana 2010, translated by Jernej Županič