Ana Svetel

- Slovenia -

Ana Svetel (Maribor 1990) is a poetry and prose author, writing also essays, columns and anthropological texts. Her first book, poetry collection Lepo in prav (LUD Literatura, 2015) was shortlisted for the literary debut of the year, sold out and reprinted in 2017. It was warmly received both amongst readers and critics. Milan Vincetič described it as a »bright comet in the sky of contemporary Slovenian poetry«, while Martina Potisk pointed out that her language is »melodic, delicate and innerly freed«. Diana Pungeršič similarly recognized her »clear, unobtrusively warm and gentle poetic voice«.

At the end of 2019 she published Dobra družba, a collection of short stories, thematically framed by the phenomenon of car-sharing. The book got immediate attention and appeared on some of the annual reading recommendations.

She has published poetry, prose and essays in the major Slovenian literary and cultural magazines (Sodobnost, Literatura, Dialogi, Razpotja, Outsider, Airbeletrina, etc.) as well as on the national radio. Both her poetry (Grad oslikan balonima i kišom, 2019) and prose (Petdeset izbranih kratkih zgodb, 2019) are included in anthologies. She won the first prize at the literary competition Straniščne spletke in 2019.

As a poet she collaborated in the theatre project Nemo mesto (Glej theatre, 2014), while nine of her stories from Dobra družba have been recently adapted for the radio plays and will be broadcasted in 2020 on the national radio. Her works have been translated into English, Portuguese, Croatian and Bosnian and published in foreign literary magazines (Poezija, Observador, Ós Pressan). She has been hosted at the literary festivals both in Slovenia (Živa književnost) and abroad (Stih u regiji – Zagreb; LeV – Matosinhos). For Slovene ethnographic museum she translated a selection of contemporary Afghan poetry of Nadia Anjuman and Fereshta Nilab Sahel Noorzayi.

Educated as an ethnologist and cultural anthropologist she is a junior research fellow at the University of Ljubljana, where she is working on her PhD dissertation about the socio-cultural aspects of light, darkness and weather in Iceland. She conducted a 6-month ethnographic fieldwork in north-eastern part of the island in 2019. She is focusing also on the imaginations and perceptions of the North.

Besides, she is active in the field of contemporary storytelling. In 2018 she gained a residency within FEST (Federation for European Storytelling) at the Norwegian Storytelling Festival, in July of the same year she performed in Greece, at the Kea Storytelling festival. For the 2020 edition of the festival Pravljice danes (Ljubljana) she is preparing a solo performance 'But it’s nothing there', where she is combining the ethnographic experiences from Iceland with the artistic approaches. As one of the leaders of the Deveta dežela collective she is regularly doing storytelling for both children and adult audiences across Slovenia.

More about the poet

Poetry

(Untitled) / (Untitled)

The door is open
the wind blows
dances
through life
fine curtains
dust particles
float like tiny stars
the hardwood floor reflects
the room motionless beautiful
as if one (lovingly keeping the order)
popped out to sit in the garden for a moment
as if one more through intuition
than reflection knew
that the door through life
can only be
open.
Tranlated by Jernej Županič
Odprta so vrata
skozi življenje
piha
pleše
tanke zavese
prašni delci
lebdijo kot majne zvezde
parket odseva
soba negibna lepa
kot bi nekdo (med ljubečim vzdrževanjem reda)
za hip odšel posedet na vrt
kot bi nekdo bolj z občutkom
kot premislekom vedel
da so vrata skozi življenje
lahko samo
odprta.
Geometry: The Triangle / Geometrija: Trikotnik

The triangle is the one who says,
“you gotta have rules,”
or, “the point of agreements
is to keep them.”
The triangle has a wristwatch,
strapped a notch too tightly,
he holds his principles dear
and never recalls his dreams.
He sleeps alone,
so that he wouldn’t cut anybody
with any of his three blades.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Trikotnik je tisti, ki reče:
'neka pravila morajo bit,'
ali pa: 'dogovori so zato,
da se jih držimo.'
Trikotnik ima zapestno uro
za eno luknjico preveč tesno zapeto,
načelnost mu veliko pomeni
in nikoli se ne spomni svojih sanj.
Spi sam,
ker bi s svojimi tremi rezili
zmeraj koga porezal.
Geometry: The Square / Geometrija: Kvadrat

The square is an avowed egalitarian.
His platform states
that nobody will experience injustice.
The square adheres to the platform,
“principles are principles”, he insists
while trying to start
spinning.
Kvadrat je zaprisežen egalitarist.
V program je zapisal,
da ne bo nihče čutil krivice.
Kvadrat se programa drži,
'načela so načela,' vztraja,
medtem ko se skuša začeti
vrteti.
Geometry: The Octagon / Geometrija: Osemkotnik

The octagon is actually a kind of star,
an extended family with a minivan and a dog.
The octagon hates comparisons, monotheism
and shapes with few corners.
When he’s at the beach, he swims backstroke.
Swimmers regularly confuse him for a
shapely leaf.
During the winter, he clings to snowflakes
and reflects on the eternal circle
of life.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Osemkotnik je v bistvu neke vrste zvezda,
razširjena družina z velikim enoprostorcem in psom.
Osemkotnik ne mara primerjav, monoteizma
in likov z malo koti.
Kadar gre na morje, plava hrbtno.
Kopalci ga vztrajno zamenjujejo za
lepo oblikovan list.
Pozimi se oprime snežink
in razmišlja o večnem krogu
življenja.
Geometry: The Circle / Geometrija: Krog

The circle has known for a while
that he will never know himself fully,
and so he keeps his silence.
He can only recite
pi to five decimal places
(which some may find surprising),
however, the circle is not a cynic.
When a boy draws him
in the snow with his finger,
he is clearly touched.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Krog že dolgo ve,
da se ne bo nikoli docela spoznal,
zato molči.
Na pamet zna
samo pet decimalk števila pi
(kar bi koga utegnilo presenetiti),
vendar krog ni cinik.
Ko ga deček s prstom
riše v sneg,
je vidno ganjen.
Geometry: The Segment / Geometrija: Daljica

It may surprise
how gentle and friendly is the segment.
A woman of indeterminate age.
Still a girl? Already a mother?
Serene in the thought
that she can undetectably quiver
a child’s hand whenever she wants
and calibrate herself
as she desires.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Morda preseneča,
kako spokojna in mila je daljica.
Ženska nedoločljive starosti.
Še deklica? Že mama?
Umirjena ob misli,
da lahko, kadar se ji zahoče,
neopazno zatrese otrokovo dlan
in se umeri
malo po svoje.
Geometry: The Line / Geometrija: Premica

Along the page, the desk, the wall,
along the hallway, the pavement, by the trees,
along the road, the country, another country,
along the sea,
further along the sea …
a traveller, Alma Karlin, no, an even better one,
“our line has always –”
“that’s just who she is –”
as her hands find each other in the middle of the ocean,
grab each other by the wrist and forearm,
checking whether it’s really them,
is it possible,
is it true …

Because it’s true, because everything is true,
the line can go back home.
To sharpen the pencil,
complete the homework.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Po papirju, mizi, steni,
po hodniku, tlakovcih, drevesih,
po cesti, državi, drugi državi,
po morju,
še po morju …
popotnica, Alma Karlin, ne, boljša,
»naša premica je že od nekdaj – «
»ona je takšna – «
ko sredi oceana njeni roki zatipata ena drugo,
se grabita po zapestjih in lakteh,
preverjata, če sta to res oni,
če je to mogoče,
če sta res …

Ker je res, ker je vse res,
gre premica lahko domov.
Ošiliti svinčnik,
dokončati domačo nalogo.
Geometry: Points / Geometrija: Točke

Them, I’d like to see as well,
stars scattered over the bedsheets,
my grandfather as he was born,
him and all the other babies,
him and all the other beginnings,
instead of death – a tiny finger;
instead of everything – points.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Rada pa bi videla tudi njih,
zvezdice, raztrosene po posteljnini,
dedka, ko se je rodil,
njega in vse ostale dojenčke,
njega in vse ostale začetke,
namesto smrti drobcen prst,
namesto vsega – točke.
Critters: The Ant / Živalice: Mravlja

She’s been done with sadness since early adulthood.
It was then that she discovered
that to love responsibly was to build.
It was then that she also found
that the common was always above her.
She has nothing to leave to descendants.
Nothing to burden them with.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Z žalostjo je opravila v zgodnji odraslosti.
Takrat je spoznala,
da ljubiti odgovorno pomeni graditi.
Takrat je spoznala tudi,
da jo skupno zmeraj presega.
Ničesar nima, kar bi zapustila potomcem.
Z ničemer jih ne bo bremenila.
Critters: The Snail / Živalice: Polž

What the snail is doing
on the wooden wall of our house,
I realise, is the only
reasonable thing to do.
Movement,
a thin, glistening trail.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Kar počne polž
po leseni steni naše hiše,
me prešine, je edino
smiselno početje.
Gibanje,
tanka, lesketava sled.
Critters: The Moth / Živalice: Vešča

As she circles around, perhaps
she feels as if she’s getting closer.
There’s a deep
religiousness to her perseverance,
a devotion inaccessible to me.
The fine grey dust on her wings
is not of this world.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Morda ima takrat, ko kroži,
občutek, da se približuje.
Neka globoka,
meni nedostopna religioznost
je v njenem vztrajanju.
Sipek, siv prah na njenih krilih
ni s tega sveta.
Poems of the Sea: I / Morske pesmi: I

I’m running towards nothing, approaching nothing,
it’s just my perspective that’s shifting, this way and that,

we’re cracking almonds with pebbles, the shells remnants of friendly massacres,
while the sea spills into glasses and the sun juices like a peach,

we’re castaways, sand lizards in swimsuits, we’re crawling over rocks and watching:
no dead gulls or trash, we’re cheering and waving towards the open sea,

the waves and wind are like caresses and like playful shifts of meaning.
We’re all playing all the time, playing long and focused,

playing with everything that moves,
because that which moves is generous;

for as long as the sun remains on the horizon, I look at it,
just for a while longer, just a tiny speck of pink,

just a tiny little peach;
I have to be here for as long as it lasts.

Mežanj, July 201
Translated by Jernej Županič
Proti ničemur ne tečem, ničemur se ne približujem,
le gledišče se rahlo nagiba, zdaj sem, zdaj tja,

mandlje treva s kamenčki, luščine so sledi prijaznih pokolov,
medtem se morje preliva v kozarce in sonce cedi kot breskev,

brodolomki sva, martinčici v kopalkah, lezeva po skalah in gledava:
nobenih mrtvih galebov in smeti, juckava in mahava na odprto,

valovi in veter so kot božanje pa kot igrivo obračanje pomenov.
Vsi se ves čas igramo, dolgo in zbrano se igramo,

igramo se z vsem, kar se premika,
ker kar se premika, je radodarno,

dokler je sonce na obzorju, ga gledam,
še malo, še čisto majcena roza pikica,

še čisto majcena breskvica,
dokler traja, moram biti tu.

Mežanj, julij 2018
Poems of the Sea: II / Morske pesmi: II

Come and I’ll show you my coast,
one great open horizon,
with only Biševo glittering blue in the right corner of the eye.
I’ll show you a reading shelf between the rocks
and a sky that turns blueberry juice in the evening.
We all love open vistas, blue islands,
books and blueberries, don’t we?
That will be a good start.

Come and I’ll show you a slippery rock
that you can tumble into the water from, I’ll show you somersaults,
we should really talk about backwards somersaults,
these can be done with one arm only, but with a stronger initial impulse,
then I’ll swim under you, across and then along the length,
and ask you to push me under, as deep as possible,
then we’ll go to those cocky waves,
waves always talk, like we do.

When you become cold, we’ll crawl back on shore
and find a pooch, you can always find a pooch
here swimming. I’ll ask you
whether you like dogs. And whether you like it here.

This is my favourite place, I’ll tell you,
lay all my cards open on the table,
a hollowed-out fruit of joy, a reassurance that
what you’re wondering if it exists, exists.
It’s here. I can show you everything,

just write back first,
just write back,
so I can tell you: Come.

Srebrna, August 2018
Translated by Jernej Županič
Pridi, pokazala ti bom svojo obalo,
eno samo odprto obzorje,
le Biševo se modro svetlika v desnem robu očesa.
Pokazala ti bom skalno polico za branje,
pa nebo, ki zvečer postane borovničev sok.
Saj vsi ljubimo proste poglede, modre otoke,
knjige in borovnice, kajne?
To bo dober začetek.

Pridi, pokazala ti bom spolzko skalo,
po kateri se zvrneš v morje, pa prevale,
mislim, da bi se morala pogovoriti o prevalih nazaj,
gre tudi z eno roko, le začetni impulz naj bo nekoliko močnejši,
potem bom plavala pod teboj, najprej po širini, nato po dolžini,
pa te prosila, da me potopiš, čim globlje,
potem bova šla do tistih objestnih valov,
valovi se ves čas pogovarjajo, kot midva.

Ko te bo zazeblo, bova zlezla na suho
in poiskala kakšnega psička, tukaj se zmeraj najde
kak psiček, ki se kopa. Vprašala te bom,
če imaš rad pse. Pa če ti je tukaj všeč.

To je moj najljubši kraj, ti bom povedala,
naj bodo že spočetka vse karte na mizi,
izdolben sadež veselja, zagotovilo, da obstaja
tisto, o čemer se sprašuješ, če obstaja.
Tukaj je. Vse ti lahko pokažem,

ampak najprej mi samo odpiši,
najprej mi samo odpiši,
da ti lahko rečem: Pridi.

Srebrna, avgust 2018
Poems of the Sea: III / Morske pesmi: III

It seems to you that you’re looking at a mirror world:
you see what you know – treetops, clouds and,
if you come close enough, your face.

You know – the mirror world is predictable:
the surface, despite swirling reflections as it pleases,
always takes what’s known, what’s ours.

So I hope there’s a swimsuit under your shirt; take a dive,
pierce the surface so that you can see you haven’t pierced it,
there are no membranes here, no forceful clinging to one’s own.

You’ll see (but look): the reflection is merely the thinnest layer,
and underneath it soundless drifting, the sunny network of the bottom,
a fin that glitters instead of getting caught in it.

When you crawl out across the slippery rocks
you’ll be transformed for a while –
at least while the sea dries on your back.

Or maybe longer. I don’t know why it’s like that,
why the surface is and isn’t, why underneath it is a world
reflected nowhere, always floating.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Zdi se ti, da gledaš zrcalen svet:
vidiš tisto, kar poznaš – krošnje, oblake in,
če se dovolj približaš, svoj obraz.

Veš – zrcalen svet je predvidljiv:
gladina, četudi po svoje kodra odseve,
zmeraj jemlje, kar je znano, naše.

Zato upam, da imaš pod majico kopalke, skoči,
predri gladino, da vidiš, da je nisi predrl,
nobene opne, krčevitega priklepanja k svojemu.

Boš videl (pa res glej): odsev je le najtanjša plast,
podnjo neslišno letenje, sončna mreža dna,
plavut, ki se vanjo ne ujame, temveč zablešči.

Ko po zlizanih skalah zlezeš ven,
boš nekaj časa spremenjen –
vsaj dokler se ti na hrbtu suši morje.

Morda pa tudi dlje. Jaz ne vem, zakaj je tako,
da je gladina in je ni, in zakaj je podnjo tak svet,
ki se nikamor ne zrcali, ki ves čas lebdi.
Huntress / Lovka

My industry
is the industry of clouds,

clouds are hard to distinguish
from ice on high,

my industry
is such, white.

My industry has no effect,
has nothing

beside distant textures,
since – did anyone yet put their hand through clouds?

My industry
is the industry of the watcher, listener, feeler,

that pursues the arctic fox
between the cloud and ice.

My industry
is an industry without a charge,

without a reason,
white on white

all distinction is a little joke,
things that wound

don't wound
on white on white.
Translated by Jasmin B. Frelih
Moja industrija
je industrija oblakov,

oblake je z višine
težko ločiti od ledu,

moja industrija
je takšna, bela.

Moja industrija nima učinka,
nima ničesar

razen oddaljenih tekstur,
ker – kdo pa je že šel z roko skozi oblake?

Moja industrija
je industrija gledalke, poslušalke, tipalke,

ki med oblakom in ledom
vztrajno zasleduje polarno lisico.

Moja industrija
je industrija brez naboja,

brez razloga,
belo na belem

je vsako ločevanje majhen hec,
nič, kar rani,

belo na belem
ne rani.
I’m a Tenant / Jaz sem podnajemnica

I’m a tenant,
I don’t know which door prefers to stay closed,
which spiders have signed non-aggression pacts,
what to say to the tap to calm it down,
I’m a tenant,
I don’t know how to own a place,
how to invest, how to enjoy
the view, what to say to the super,
I never step out of the bathroom in the nude
because the owner could walk in at any time,
the owner who always announces herself except when she forgets,
I don’t get attached to the courtyard cat
and don’t know whether to put my name on the letterbox,
my feelings are temporary, born into impermanence,
born Buddhist and poor,
because I’m a tenant,
because I’m the one who doesn’t know.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Jaz sem podnajemnica,
jaz ne vem, katera vrata so rada zaprta,
s katerimi pajkci je sklenjen pakt o nenapadanju,
kaj reči pipi, da se pomiri,
jaz sem podnajemnica,
jaz ne vem, kako si prostore lastiti,
kako vlagati, kako se veseliti
razgledov, kaj reči upravniku,
jaz iz kopalnice nikoli ne stopim gola,
ker lahko kadar koli vstopi lastnica,
ki zmeraj javi, preden pride, razen ko pozabi,
jaz se ne navežem na dvoriščno mačko
in ne vem, ali naj na nabiralnik napišem svoje ime,
moja čustva so začasna, že v kali vrasla v netrajanje,
že v kali budistična in revna,
ker jaz sem podnajemnica,
jaz ne vem.
A Shrinking Circle / Krog, ki se krči

Because you never walk further than the perimeter,
the circle gradually, unnoticeably starts to shrink,
as if concentric circles were spinning backward.

Deep in thought, you never notice that you always
reach the rim a bit sooner, and you think,
“look how distances shrink with repetition,”
you think, “how strange that I never become tired anymore,”
you think, “that’s life for you.”

If the forest could speak, it would say, “for God’s sake, go further,”
if the forest could, it would pick you up and flick you across the stream.
“Why don’t you ever cross it? You haven’t stood here yet,
start here,” and you’d walk, walk further, walk where you haven’t walked yet,

not hoping for something to change,
just trying to keep space from shrinking.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Ker greš zmeraj le do oboda,
se krog zlagoma, neopazno začenja krčiti,
kot bi se koncentrični krogi vrteli nazaj.

Zamišljen ne opaziš, da vsakič malce prej
dospeš do roba, pomisliš:
'glej, kako se razdalje s ponavljanjem krajšajo,'
misliš si: 'čudno, sploh se več ne utrudim,'
misliš si: 'to je življenje.'

Če bi gozd znal govoriti, bi rekel: 'zaboga, pojdi dlje,'
če bi gozd znal, bi te zgrabil in frcnil na drugo stran potoka:
'zakaj ga nikoli ne prestopiš? Tukaj še nisi stal,
tukaj začni,' in ti bi hodil, hodil dlje, hodil, kjer še nisi hodil,

ne v upanju, da se nekaj spremeni,
le v nuji, da se prostor ne zmanjša.
Poem Fragments / Pesemski okruški

I

The sun sets and,
attached to nothing,
remains.

II

I’m no longer starting
at the beginning.

Repetition
is first and foremost
a study of repetition.

III

Memories aren’t spaces
that ever really
existed.

Their space
is not the space of geography.

IV

Encouragement is
the persistence of others.

V

I’m learning to think
about people
as if we’re all here and at the same time
there’s nobody.

VI

The soul should be
small and compact,
like a garden light around which
moths and faeries dance.
Translated by Jernej Županič
I

Sonce zaide in,
pripeto na nič,
ostane.

II

Ne začenjam več
iz prvič.

Ponavljanje
je predvsem
učenje ponavljanja.

III

Spomini niso prostori,
ki bi kdaj zares
obstajali.

Njihov prostor
ni prostor geografije.

IV

Vzpodbuda je
vztrajnost drugih.

V

Urim se v razmišljanju
o ljudeh na način,
kot da smo hkrati tukaj vsi
in nikogar.

VI

Dušica naj bo
majhna in kompaktna,
kot vrtna lučka, okoli katere
plešejo veščice in vile.
“Grandma, Look what We’ve Done!” / »Babica, glej, kaj smo napravili!«

Everything she accomplished,
or didn’t,
has flattened into a tiny little body
just a smidgeon larger
than the random tangle of bedsheets,

everything she accomplished,
or didn’t,
has precipitated in droplets of dry urine,
a perfect opposite of sea or wind,

everything she accomplished,
or didn’t,
has shrivelled into thin skin around the jaw,
a mouth turned upon itself,

everything she accomplished,
or didn’t,
is further away than antiquity;

what thoughts had she regularly,
gradually, through her whole life,
nurtured before going to sleep?

Did she ever, in the time she recalls, wish
upon a star for the same
or at least something very similar?

Did she ever feel as if happiness were within reach?
Did she ever admit to feeling so?
Did anybody hurt her?
Did she hurt anybody?

She’s further away than antiquity,
on the other shore,
the bedsheets billow.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Vse, kar ji je uspelo,
ali pač ne,
se je sploščilo v telesce,
le za nianso večje
od naključno razmetane posteljnine,

vse, kar ji je uspelo,
ali pač ne,
se je destiliralo v kapljicah suhega urina,
popolno nasprotje morja ali vetra,

vse, kar ji je uspelo,
ali pač ne,
se je izsesalo v tanko kožo okoli čeljusti,
usta, obrnjena vase,

vse, kar ji je uspelo,
ali pač ne,
je dlje od Antike,

katere misli je redno,
po malem kar celo življenje,
hranila pred spanjem?

Si je, odkar pomni, ob utrinku
zaželela isto
ali vsaj zelo zelo podobno?

Je kdaj imela občutek, da je na pragu sreče?
Je to komu priznala?
Jo je kdo prizadel?
Je koga prizadela?

Ona je dlje od Antike,
na drugi obali,
posteljnina valovi.
Marble / Marmor

We all touch each other.
But statues touch
most gently.

Their skin
is thinnest.
Translated by Jernej Županič
Vsi se dotikamo.
A najbolj nežno
se dotikajo kipi.

Njihova koža
je najtanjša.
Father and Son / Oče in sin

In a just washed hemp shirt
I descend the stairs,
my son holding my hand,
a tiny hand and a big one, a curious fit,
below, a bright wooden door
opens upon a vast garden, nothing but light,
we walk to an apple tree just high enough for me to sit him on a branch.
He clutches the trunk, and I think – I, not he
(he blissfully only thinks about the coarse bark of the tree) –
I think: this is what that feeling is, nothing but light,
I don’t waste time looking for the perfect word,
it’s more of a dispersed recognition, something along the lines of:
I walked on and eventually all parts began to fit together,
I walked on and everything found me,
I walked on to my own happiness.

Fathers can be so cocky.
Translated by Jernej Županič
V sveže oprani platneni srajci
se spuščam po stopnicah,
sin me drži za roko,
mala in velika dlan, nenavadno prileganje,
spodaj se vrata iz svetlega lesa
odpirajo na prostran vrt, povsod sama svetloba,
stopiva do jablane, ravno prav visoke, da ga posadim na vejo.
Oprime se drevesa in tedaj pomislim, jaz, ne on
(on, blagoslovljen, misli le na hrapavo površje lubja),
pomislim torej – to je ta občutek, povsod sama svetloba,
ne trudim se z iskanjem natančne besede,
gre bolj za razpršeno zavedanje v smislu:
hodil sem naravnost in sčasoma so se vsi delci začeli prilegati,
hodil sem naravnost in vse me je našlo,
hodil sem naravnost do lastne sreče.

Očetje znajo biti tako objestni.