The Orange Tree in Front of the House Is in the Zenith

by Veronika Dintinjana


The Orange Tree in Front of the House Is in the Zenith

I listen to the absence of wind in the branches

and to the unpeopled afternoon.

 

For three things I have left the window shutters open,

for four I close the door.

 

For the glowing moon which hisses when the blacksmith sinks it in water,

for the morning which turns pale when the sun peers in its face.

For the day which blushes into night, and for the threshold –

there will no longer be feet to shine it, only petals.

 

Three ascend towards the heavens,

four have left without a slightest sound.

 

The filament blew in the light bulb,

a distracted line has vanished from my head.

Through a half-open window the cold came in,

and supper found its place at the table.

 

Four things I cannot comprehend,

three I cannot forget.

 

The round stone on the beach which taught me as a child

to tell my right knee from my left, one side of the road from the other.

The all-encompassing pain that left me a moment later.

The kindly sea I dream of every night, that waits for me at the door,

and by day sends seagulls and other messengers for an answer.

 

And the tree which is setting over the world.

You cannot tell which revolves and which is still.

 

By the shadow’s length we set the sky’s directions.

By the pace’s length we know the time of night.

Translated by the author and Ciaran O'Driscoll

Oranževec pred hišo je v zenitu

 

Poslušam odsotnost vetra med listi

in neobljudeno popoldne.

 

Zaradi treh stvari puščam polkna priprta,

zaradi štirih zapiram vrata.

 

Zaradi lune, ki razbeljena zacvrči, ko jo kovač potopi v vedro.

Zaradi jutra, ki prebledi, ko ga v obraz pogleda sonce.

Zaradi dneva, ki zardi v noč, in zaradi praga,

namesto stopinj ga bodo obrusili cvetovi.

 

Trije se dvigajo v nebo,

štirje so šli brez najmanjšega šuma.

 

Šla je gorilna nitka v žarnici,

iz glave mi je ušla prekinjena vrstica.

Skozi priprto okno se je pririnil hlad

in za mizo si je prostor našla večerja.

 

Štirih stvari ne morem dojeti,

treh ne pozabiti.

 


Oblega kamna na obali, kot otroka me je naučil

razlikovati levo in desno koleno, levo in desno stran ceste.

Bolečine, ki je bila vseobsegajoča in je minila hip zatem.

Ljubeznivega morja, vsako noč ga sanjam, čaka me pred vrati.

Podnevi pošilja galebe in druge sle po odgovor.

 


In drevesa, ki zahaja nad svetom.

Ni moč videti, kdo se vrti okoli koga.

 

Po dolžini sence določamo smeri neba.

Po dolžini korakov, katera ura noči je. 

Veronika Dintinjana