Jasmin B. Frelih

Translated by Jasmin B. Frelih

1. *** / ***

   

   

   ENGSLV

   There stood a meadow. It was deeply bent over the doe, grazing on it. With its green snout it was rooting the burnt grass of hide and plucking red flowers of flesh. It hastily swallowed the whole apple of the heart, not even spitting out the seeds of lead. 

    

   There stood a cherry tree. It was weaving a nest out of sparrows and starlings. They were lying around it like open oysters, where crows stole grey pearls from. 

    

   Here and there a person lay. On his caved-in chest the imprints of wild butts of guns which he rode just before were shown.

   Translated by Jasmin B. Frelih

   Tam je stal travnik. Bil je globoko sklonjen nad srno in se pasel na njej. S svojim zelenim gobcem je ril po ožgani travi kožuha in pulil rdeče rože mesa. Hlastno je pogoltnil célo jabolko srca, niti svinčenih pečk ni izpljunil.

    

   Tam je stala češnja. Pletla je gnezdo iz vrabcev in škorcev. Ležali so okrog nje kot odprte ostrige, iz katerih so srake kradle sive bisere.

    

   Tu in tam je ležal človek. Na njegovih udrtih prsih so se poznala podivjana kopita puške, na kateri je še maloprej jahal.

    

    

   Sprehajalec ptic (Beletrina, 2013)

2. *** / ***

   

   

   ENGSLV

   In rats, houses spawned. Large, small, with scaly backs and staring windows.

    

   In rats, houses spawned. They squeal with their doors, they grunt with their hatches and squeak with their hinges, as they gnaw on their flesh, gouge their bones and carve their house-numbers into their thoughts.

    

   In rats, houses spawned. Made of repugnant brick, or with hairy facades and long tails of garages. All full of voracious parasites, all scabby of their own voraciousness.

    

   In rats, houses spawned. In their cold chests beat hot ovens and in their conniving attics a shelter dreams.

   Translated by Jasmin B. Frelih

   V podganah so se nakotile hiše. Velike, majhne, z luskastimi hrbti in strmečimi okni.

    

   V podganah so se nakotile hiše. Cvilijo z vrati, ječijo z durmi in škripajo s tečaji, ko glodajo njihovo meso, dolbejo v njihove kosti ter praskajo svoje hišne številke v njihove misli.

    

   V podganah so se nakotile hiše. Ostudno opečnate ali s kosmatimi fasadami in dolgimi repi garaž. Vse polne požrešnih zajedavcev, vse krastave od svoje požrešnosti.

    

   V podganah so se nakotile hiše. V njihovih mrzlih prsih utripajo vroče peči in na njihovem potuhnjenem podstrešju sanja zavetje.

    

   Sprehajalec ptic (Beletrina, 2013)

    

3. *** / ***

   

   

   ENGSLV

   It is complete windlessness today. The River Drava stands bricklain out of a single surface. On both banks right past her always faster the city is flowing away. All around her waves of roofs and housefronts, here and there a splash of bridge. The current of the city speeds up, getting stronger. Its surface cut by dorsal fins, pointers, circling in the eddies of belfries. Some try to dam the city to use its energy, they're so occupied with it that they fail to see themselves also being carried away.

    

   All around her waves of roofs and housefronts, here and there a splash of bridge. The current of the city speeds up, getting stronger. With it goes all that it takes, all that is and all that is in it. With it we go – drowned men behind closed flesh windows, opened glass eyes, worked over by walls, chewed through by walls. I get carried away with the thought of finding someday somewhere the riverbank they're looking for.  

   Translated by Jasmin B. Frelih

   Danes je popolno brezvetrje. Drava stoji sezidana iz ene same gladine. Na obeh nabrežjih mimo nje vedno hitreje odteka mesto. Vsenaokrog valovijo strehe in pročelja, tu pa tam čez Dravo pljuskne most. Tok mesta je vse hitrejši, vse silovitejši. Njegovo gladino režejo hrbtne plavuti, kazalci, ki krožijo v vrtincih zvonikov. Nekaj jih poskuša zajeziti mesto, da bi izkoristili njegovo energijo, tako so zaposleni s tem, da ne vidijo, da tudi njih odnaša.

    

   Vsenaokrog valovijo strehe in pročelja, tu pa tam čez Dravo pljuskne most. Tok mesta je vse hitrejši, vse silovitejši. S sabo nosi vse, kar zajame, vse, kar je, in vse, kar je v njem. S sabo odnaša nas – utopljence za zaprtimi mesenimi okni, z odprtimi steklenimi očmi, ki so jih načele stene, ki so jih nagrizli zidovi. Odnaša me z mislijo, da mogoče nekoč nekje naplavim nabrežje, ki ga iščejo.

    

   Sprehajalec ptic (Beletrina, 2013)